Duskfire Glacier may you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead

Wayfarer was barely listening as her mother took charge of the funeral procession, and not once did she raise her gaze to look upon a face that her own had come to resemble so closely. Instead, the girl fixed her stare to the mound of frozen earth that'd sealed the underground hollow where Duskfire's previous leading pair lay in eternal slumber.

It was the first time she'd visited, and she absolutely did not want to be there.

Though she leaned her flank lightly against Veteran's and drew comfort from the closeness of him, her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking fondly of simpler times, when she as a tiny thing with oversized paws would stumble after a towering Wintersbane in effort to match his proud stride. She was recalling the warmth of Tzila's smile and the effort made to mother her when her own had been absent. As she grew, bitterness and yearning for independence had distanced her from her family, and those more carefree days seemed so very distant to her.

She grieved - of course she did. Though her relationship with her father had never been as strong as she'd wished, Wayfarer mourned for the potential of it.

The sound of her name on her mother's lips distracted her from reflection, but still she did not glance her way. Wayfarer felt a muscle tightening in her jaw and she furrowed her brow; the last thing she wanted was recognition of any sort. Through flared nostrils she drew in a breath and, with teeth gritted, she pressed her tongue to the roof if her mouth to contain the teenage frustration that tempted her to give voice.

She would join her voice with those of her pack-mates on that night. She would not feast with them in the lowlands following. Wayfarer knew that she would linger only for as long as she had to, until she could slip away alone and unnoticed to nurse the re-opening of wounds unseen.