Bearclaw Valley Only the good die young

Cole had not planned to follow. He rarely planned anything these days — he simply moved where the pack moved, his pace slow, his thoughts slower. The others were light in their steps, led by laughter and wonder. He brought up the rear, worn as a riverstone, silent as the dusk that had followed him his entire life.

The cave had felt wrong to him from the beginning. Not in sound or scent, but in something deeper— a knowing that tugged behind his ribs. He should have turned around. Should have waited outside. But Ameline had gone inside, and Ancelin after her, and the children too. So he went.

There was no panic in him when it started. Only the cold steadiness of a man who had seen how fast the world could take. The cry — Periwinkle’s — shattered something in him. He lunged forward, trying to reach whoever he could, bracing his body against the shaking earth. But the cave did not care for strength or sorrow. The light dimmed. The air filled with dust. And Cole, too, was swallowed.

No grand final words. No defiant stand. Just a breath, one last thought of @Winslet and the riverbanks she loved, and the knowledge that if the pack was going, he would go with them.

Because that was what he did. He stayed. Even when it ended.