Serpent Lake enjarocharse

‘Wait! Wait!’

He did not want to—the sound of sob caught on her voice, and he closed his eyes to the world for a moment—willing this moment away. Enduring the loss of Silvertongue before had been one of the hardest moments in his life, but he had been able to do so with good faith that she had gone on to live a happy life. A life she had chosen. That she had wanted. That had made the pain and loss bearable.

But this? Forced to walk away from her again—it was as bad as the day in the desert, where she had brandished him the scar upon his eye and the fierce words to leave her.

Eivor took the pack from him, ordering him to stay—his eyes snapping open to hauntingly look after her.

He turned to look at her—limned in moonlight—no longer Silvertongue but Belen. This was what remained of the woman he loved—and a paw lifted to scrub wearily down his face, withholding a groan as he subdued to her request—sweeping down to sit. “I’ll answer any questions you have,” he rumbled, swallowing the emotion in his throat once more—eyes looking away from her and to the lake. “I’m Akavir. I lead a pack called Swiftcurrent Creek, in the Rising Sun Valley. Crowfeather lead a pack called Riverclan, also in the valley. You were much like his Beta.” The most simplest of answers, perhaps.

“We were allies.”

We were so much more than that.