Swiftcurrent Creek August slipped away into a moment in time.

His dark form remained leaned back against the tree.The sun sat high across their home—the ground decorated with the remaining leaves that had finally fallen as winter came for them. Silence, too, had seemingly blanketed over them—and as such, Akavir studied the den in which Jakoul had birthed her litter—their litter.

Two boys, a girl.

All four of them gone now.

Gone were the days he slept outside this den as Jakoul nursed and cradled their brood. Gone were the days when she had vanished without a trace—and in her stead, he had tried. He had taken them to the river pack. Had waited for them to be weaned—had slept with them every night he was home…

Until one day they were not home.

The sun was bright above, but all he could do was look at the unused den—his stomach acrid. His thoughts dark.

And somewhere—as if the world taunted him, he swore he could hear a familiar voice singing on the wind—and in turn, the song of the last winter birds fell to silence.