They'd told him Kitten was missing, and he added it to his "list of wolves to find," but he would not shy from the fact that Timberlake was number-one on that list. That burly boy was nowhere to be found, and after Shale had checked in at the rendezvous site in the maplewood, he headed back into the fray, unwilling to give up.
How could he? He had failed his children once; he would not do it again.
"Timberlake!" the man shouted hoarsely, the wind blowing hot smoke in his face. He carried on, like a bedouin into a sandstorm, eyes narrowed to slits. The fire had grown since he'd left; it was positively fearsome, the flames arching high into the late afternoon sky. Unless rain came, the blaze would not cease; he worried that the maplewood was not far enough, and that they were in danger still there.
It grew warmer and warmer as Shale continued his path to where the dens were, hoping that the boy hadn't gotten himself caught in some nook there. He coughed with every step, his mouth dry, his ribs heaving as his lungs struggled for breath. It was hotter than anything he'd felt, the flames all around, and the smoke even worse--an unbearable, inexorable blanket around him, stinging his eyes and nostrils.
Finally, with effort, he reached the whelping site, and began to poke his nose into each and every corner. Where was he?! "Timberlake!" he called again, repeating this over and over until he could speak no more. Eventually, Shale was brought to his knees in the midst of the clearing, coughing furiously. He spat and saw crimson on the ground, and his vision swam.
"Please. . ." he pleaded, scrabbling at the earth. His voice broke in a moan. "Please! God! Where is he? Where are you, Tim?" Visions of the pup burning alive, choking to death on the smoke, filled his mind, and he shut his eyes, a piercing agony ripping through his lungs as he screamed. He barely had enough moisture to cry, and he erupted into dry sobs instead, forehead pressed against the ground.
Shale.
The voice brought his head upright again, and he looked around, searching intently for the sound of the voice. That beautiful, lilting voice.
To his right, Grayday stood amidst the flames, by his side a lovely young woman he didn't know. To his left. . .Mom and Dad! His heart squeezed with a sudden joy to see them, but there was fear that gripped him as he realized what this meant for him. What this meant for Timberlake.
He had failed. He would die, and the pup with him.
It is not your fault.
The voice came from directly ahead, and he turned his gaze to see two twin emerald orbs blinking at him from between two columns of flame. Her silken gray form emerged, and he rose to his feet, incredulous and feeling. . .light. Lighter than he had in a while. He gave Grayday a brilliant smile and his parents a loving look before stepping forward. . .
"Lucy," he breathed, pressing his nose into the fur along her cheek. She felt real, smelled real--like the sweetness of spring. And at their feet, a quartet of roly-poly, grinning pups, beaming up at him.
The tears came, finally, and tracked down his cheeks as he gathered his children into his embrace, holding them tight. His wife rested her cheek over his shoulders, gently, and the six of them stayed this way for a long while, huddled among the wreckage. After a long while, they departed, the rest of the spirits on their heels.
The flames devoured his body shortly thereafter, but Shale was long gone by then.
How could he? He had failed his children once; he would not do it again.
"Timberlake!" the man shouted hoarsely, the wind blowing hot smoke in his face. He carried on, like a bedouin into a sandstorm, eyes narrowed to slits. The fire had grown since he'd left; it was positively fearsome, the flames arching high into the late afternoon sky. Unless rain came, the blaze would not cease; he worried that the maplewood was not far enough, and that they were in danger still there.
It grew warmer and warmer as Shale continued his path to where the dens were, hoping that the boy hadn't gotten himself caught in some nook there. He coughed with every step, his mouth dry, his ribs heaving as his lungs struggled for breath. It was hotter than anything he'd felt, the flames all around, and the smoke even worse--an unbearable, inexorable blanket around him, stinging his eyes and nostrils.
Finally, with effort, he reached the whelping site, and began to poke his nose into each and every corner. Where was he?! "Timberlake!" he called again, repeating this over and over until he could speak no more. Eventually, Shale was brought to his knees in the midst of the clearing, coughing furiously. He spat and saw crimson on the ground, and his vision swam.
"Please. . ." he pleaded, scrabbling at the earth. His voice broke in a moan. "Please! God! Where is he? Where are you, Tim?" Visions of the pup burning alive, choking to death on the smoke, filled his mind, and he shut his eyes, a piercing agony ripping through his lungs as he screamed. He barely had enough moisture to cry, and he erupted into dry sobs instead, forehead pressed against the ground.
Shale.
The voice brought his head upright again, and he looked around, searching intently for the sound of the voice. That beautiful, lilting voice.
To his right, Grayday stood amidst the flames, by his side a lovely young woman he didn't know. To his left. . .Mom and Dad! His heart squeezed with a sudden joy to see them, but there was fear that gripped him as he realized what this meant for him. What this meant for Timberlake.
He had failed. He would die, and the pup with him.
It is not your fault.
The voice came from directly ahead, and he turned his gaze to see two twin emerald orbs blinking at him from between two columns of flame. Her silken gray form emerged, and he rose to his feet, incredulous and feeling. . .light. Lighter than he had in a while. He gave Grayday a brilliant smile and his parents a loving look before stepping forward. . .
"Lucy," he breathed, pressing his nose into the fur along her cheek. She felt real, smelled real--like the sweetness of spring. And at their feet, a quartet of roly-poly, grinning pups, beaming up at him.
The tears came, finally, and tracked down his cheeks as he gathered his children into his embrace, holding them tight. His wife rested her cheek over his shoulders, gently, and the six of them stayed this way for a long while, huddled among the wreckage. After a long while, they departed, the rest of the spirits on their heels.
The flames devoured his body shortly thereafter, but Shale was long gone by then.
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