Lake Rodney I call you now to tell you I'm thinking of you.

Grief was a powerful thing and Viinturuth, who thought he'd felt the weight of it many times before, was unprepared for how it engulfed him. He felt as though darkness seeped into his bones, into each fibre of his being, and there was nothing he could do to escape it.

Arielle, lost.
Lilitu, gone.
Ibis, dead.

Only Akavir remained, though he was not himself. He would never be whole again, not after what he'd been forced to face.

He hated that his brother had had to go through it all alone.

Viinturuth stood protectively over his littermate who lay slumped in the mud, and the rain continued to pour. He didn't care, barely even noticed it; his own sorrow pooled in his dark eyes, disappeared among already sodden cheeks. There was absolutely nothing in the world that he could say to Akavir, no soft murmurings that would bring him comfort. Instead the ghost lowered his muzzle and nudged at his sibling's platinum-tipped shoulders, tugged roughly at the coarse furs there with his fangs. "But you are still here," he said boldly, willing the broken wolf to rise - again and again, as many times as he needed to, "and you don't have to be alone now. Let me help you." He lifted his head to look at him pointedly, "come with me, Akavir."