It was, I decided, rather a good little viewing area, the cliff top of Diveen providing my mate and I with our own private little veranda of sorts, the autumn gold of the pack land sweeping out below and the light breeze that promised of the coming winter lightly blowing the thick white of my pelt into the obsidian of her own. It was…..pleasant and indeed I think it’s about damn time something around here was pleasant. Zen and I have been- distant, perhaps, since the death of Saintly, it was perhaps the last thing we had done together before the silly little creature from Iromar had decided to throw a tantrum over something. Honestly it was rather cute, the poor little Alphess actually thought she had a chance. A passing smile graced my handsome features a moment as Zen lent further into my chest, a low growl of pleasure rumbling within as I angled my head towards her, jaws parting to allow my tongue to sweep over her cheek in a momentary show of affection before I turned the violet of my gaze to the land below and the trail of wolves that slowly made it’s way over the border. On this little war party my mind was rather…undecided. I suppose it is my own fault, after the death of my infant son I had hardly been given to care at all about some imbeciles declaration of war, my mind had been given only to thoughts of Zen, on trying to comfort her, on trying to hide the fact that the loss of that little boy left a wound somewhere inside myself that just won’t stop bleeding. How many children do I have to lose? How many times must I pay for my sins in this life by watching those I have some tendril of emotion for die? Alright, so I have hardly been in a pleasant mood since Saintly and yet what else can be expected. Zen had desired children for so, so long and I had been willing enough to give her that, only to watch her suffer the loss of her only boy while I did nothing. I do not handle being powerless well and indeed some part of me will always believe I could have done more. Not that it matters now. Saint is gone, hopefully he finds Lucifer and Kael in whatever place it is he rests.

I am too old for this, my mind just too tired to think on such things and so I won’t, no, thoughts of Saintly are for the darkest hours of the night when there are none awake to see how far the wounds go. Besides, I have no time to break and crumble, Zen deserves more than that and it would seem I have spent my entire life allowing others to cry into my fur. So be it. They say time heals and perhaps it does, Zen no longer cries for hours on end while I simply hold her, she hasn’t cried in some days now and perhaps…..perhaps she is slowly moving on. We have a daughter to think of after all, the mere thought of Neveah bringing a smirk to my lips as I move to rest my head on Zen’s back, enjoying her warmth, her closeness and the simple scent of a female so entirely my own. Hmm, it would seem age takes nothing from my possessive nature. I sighed rather dramatically and yet really I think it’s time I was a little dramatic don’t you? Hot air rushing from my muzzle to ruffle the fur at Zen’s ears in a playful tease before I yawned and drew my attention down once more. Apparently fate is content to continue to try and take my children from me, Isola and Azrael both having inclined themselves to this little war and truly, while I am content to act entirely indifferent I…….I worry for them, some part of my mind recoiling from even the thought that one, if not both could so easily be killed in this ridiculous charade.

Azrael, well, I am entirely content to believe he has enough rage to survive a hurricane if he puts his mind to it, the boy entirely to headstrong for his own good. I love him, I do and yet it is no lie that we have never seen eye to eye, even so, I suppose I have a slither of pride in him for this, for moving to defend his sister and the pack that raised him. It is Isola I fear for. She is not born of war, she is not trained to maim and destroy as her brother. In fact, my daughter is very much like her Mother. She is capable I am sure, she will die for Diveen and for her children and yet that is the very thing I fear. No parent should outlive their child and I have already seen three of mine die. If I lose Isola, if I lose Azrael I…….I fear that more then anything else. How do I tell my grandchildren their parents will not come home, how do I look Andromeda in the eye and tell her that her imprint and mate is gone? How will Kane lead a pack without his mate? Surely, surely such things will never come to pass, my children are entirely that. Mine. Yet, perhaps that is the reason Isola has been challenged as such. My blood does not bow easily and Isola, for all her gentleness, would not bend to the demands of some lunatic who looks as if she fell on her face. Perhaps she was just dropped on her head as a child. Hardly surprising.

“I am proud of her. Isola. She is not made for this and yet she goes anyway. I know Kane will keep her safe, I know Azrael will be fine but I…….I should have gone with them.”



h e y e l
The Angel King