At the bequest of Fenrir a few seasons earlier they had planned to set aside time to travel to Taviora. It had been an open call as well, entreating all their children to come with them, to spend some time amongst the familiar oaks and the interspersed pine trees. A family vacation, they called it, and every moment brought joy to the heart of Natu. The pups were growing at an exponential rate but they always did in the first year and when times came that she noticed a certain lapse in health of her husband she would turn her focus more completely upon her children. Natu ignored the signs because she knew they were there but she didn't WANT to know. There was something ominous and dreadful about knowing. How they grew, her lovely daughters, so beautiful and spirited and kind, each different in such a vast way. She often watched them play and considered it. How Ankh had the spirit of flame, how Samia had the spirit of sweetness, how Arthfael was a survivor but also a loner, how Alexander was born to be a leader, how Alistair was growing to be a reckoning force with a clever mind. How Thor was wild and unbidden but so very brave, how Tiamat held a certain burning hunger in her, how Medea was the calm within the storm, and how Feather was adoring and bright. All her children were different and amazing. Beautiful.

This trip was light hearted. Fenrir would swoop in at times when she grew melancholy, sensing perhaps the end result of such loveliness, and she would fast grow joyful romping with him and the children. To brush his fur, to kiss his cheek, to bury herself in his scent was a glory that she had never thought possible. The aches of her own age faded in those moments, the depression of the past long gone since her time with Fenrir and the births of their brood. How happy she was in these moments, nestled in the harsh pants of her children as they bounce around her, as they touch her in that unknowing manner that a child does a parent. Loving, beseeching, caring. They were spectacular and she made sure to spend time with each of them, showing them love through her words and each touch.

Ankh and Arthfael had followed Alistair away from the den where Alexander slept with the younger children, Samia having nestled in there despite the constraints. The green gaze of her mate is met with her icy blue ones, knowing instantly what he wishes, and thus she follows him, moving in sync with his body so that their fur brushes with each thrust of their shoulders. His hips push beneath him and he is racing and she follows, becoming the wind once more, spinning and dancing around him at times with an open mouth, wide eyes, and pricked ears. The moon highlights the snow as it builds slowly upon the earth and the white and black wolf dance.

Her song joins his in the night as they settle down, the cold seeping between their fur, and it is one of contentment and happiness. Life had been grand - she does not think about what will come in the hours of the night. Perhaps her body senses it, perhaps it is why she does not beg them to go back to the den, but she doesn't truly realize the course of events. Maybe she refuses, so content in her love, but her soul and heart would follow him anywhere. Heyel already rested on the beyond, watching her. "Always," she murmurs in reply, laying her head down so that his neck can rest atop hers. Sleep claims her quickly and her heart stutters, pauses, then stops as his own spirit rises and beckons. The children were the loves of her life but they did not need her anymore, not truly, for they had one another, and Fenrir called.

His call is answered and she follows him into the beyond, happy in all of her life. Perhaps she will see Heyel in the beyond, perhaps her fallen children, but she would be by Fenrir's side forever. Thus ends the tale of Natu, the wind-walker, her body left behind beneath the embrace of her love.