Big Salmon Lake A thousand years

It was a hell of a thing, the way that the years kept tumbling on and on. He missed Vaïre like he'd never missed anything, an ache deep in his chest that made it hard to breathe a night. But it was getting into the dying days of summer and the weather was hot and the weeks were languid. There was enough to eat. The rivers were slow and lazy. The stars shone brightly, night after night.

He wandered in Raindrop's path, intent on seeing her for no reason in particular. He'd begun a habit of this, quite without either of their permission. When he got back from his scouting trips, he went and he found the last true point of familiarity within the pack.

Raindrop.

He found her outside the territory, today, gazing out at the water. She was like her daughter in this way, or her daughter was like her — always so thoughtful, so contemplative.

This was where the ritual ended. He'd seen her, and now he could go back to hunting or patrolling or perhaps head off to take a much-needed nap. But, instead, he found himself padding closer. In the quiet of the morning, he came to stand beside her, following her gaze as he'd often done with Angel during their trip. Just as with her, he could not find whatever it was that held Raindrop's attention. It must be something in her mind's eye, then.

He placed a paw in the cool water. It soothed his aching paws.

"It's going to be a beautiful day," he said quietly, his voice just a little sad, just a little wistful.