it comes to him in slow motion. that's how he feels, how he sees it, anyway, even if it takes but mere seconds in reality. his life is over quickly, but to rio it takes much longer than an eternity. it is with a certain fragile clarity that he sees the young silver wolf, and his mind takes it upon itself to seek solace in memories. gone is the silver fur of the youth, replaced with a brilliant golden that belonged to his brother from a life time ago. raylen had been a brother not in blood, but by duty, pack and honour. intermingled with that brilliant gold is a different sort of silver than the actual wolf standing there. it is more of a gentle grey, and he knows it to be his second brother in arms. tamlin, he had learned, had taken up the mantle where their alpha had left it. he had kept bright moon together still, even while raylen had remained a little while and he had all but disappeared on them. abandonment was ever present, left and right, throughout his life, and even in his memories he was not safe from the plague of it all.

by the time he's close enough to breathe hot breath against him, the young wolf is giving his voice only briefly. it is time, that is the only explanation he offers though it falls on practically deaf ears. for at this close proximity, the silver fur is neither gold or grey but this time black with a splash of white. rio knows it to be her, satowra, the first and only alpha for him to have served and bent the knee to honestly. besides her, it was not in his blood to bend his will and obey others. besides her, he had no reason to stay in bright moon as he did all those years ago. this is his minds way of processing the events now happening to him, those which he is already powerless to and frankly all the more accepting. when small jaws part to grasp the thick flesh of his scruff, out of the corner of his citrine eyes rio knows he now sees red. it is both just beside him, and off to the opposite side, where the forest fades into inky blackness. dismissing it as nothing but a glare, it is only a moment later that his jaw and muscles of his entire body are going slack.

he is not dead entirely, but the savaging happening at the nape of his neck is more than enough to sever nerves and tendon alike. his mind still churns and processes, but his body is useless and no longer can he hold himself up at all. the red headed wolf of the north is quick to succumb and fall to the side, the amount of blood loss at this point bringing a haze over naturally light and bright golden irises. he can still see also, though even his vision fades in and out with the seconds passing by. the young wolf he thinks is still at his neck, and there might be muffled voices near by but he is fading far too fast to focus on anything in particular. gone is any other fur than the silver of the ghost that had found him, though still something has his eyes rolling to the side as far as they can possibly go. there, he swears there is red, red as his very own by the dark trees but there is no time for him to be sure. his strained features do not find peace or closure in these last moments of his, and there are no kind words to transpire as his heart stops.

as he lived the majority of his life, so did he die, without another soul ever by his side. unless one counted the murderer that stood above him, or the king of a wolf fast approaching, or even the girl of darkness that stood like a wraith in the shadows. and not even the red headed she wolf that stood watching the ordeal at the edge of the forest, frozen beyond all thoughts of sanity and logic. kindness was not something often granted by fate, and as it was rio had been no exception and faced his destiny as did all the rest- into the darkness where there was no more light.