The Sentinels in the woods somewhere

A year had passed. The soot was washed from his fur, but he still felt the sting of his losses. He was sure he always would. Yet the sun was shining through the boughs, and the gulls were calling on the wind, and the sea breeze that brushed his face was as fresh as he could've hoped.

Perhaps, even now, he could enjoy his life.

Struck by the thought, the male lifted his head and howled. He was tired of being alone.