And I carry Canaan’s pain too, because some losses don’t belong to just one of us.
Noa breaks the silence first.
“I had a dream about a bird,” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
The words are so unexpected I falter mid-motion, my hand pausing where I’d started tracing the line of her cheek again. She leans into the touch without thinking, chasing it instinctively, and silently asking me for more. That tight, painful sensation loosens in my chest just a little.
“A bird?” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her bottom lip. “Do birds in dreams mean something important that I don’t know about?”
“This one does.” She doesn’t offer more information than that, and I don’t push, knowing if she wants to tell me, she will. “What time is it?”
“Still early.”
“We told Zora and Amara that we’d would meet them at the healer’s cabin to help them prepare.”
She doesn’t elaborate further by what she means by prepare, but she doesn’t have to. I know. And fuck if I don’t wish I didn’t.
Preparing the bodies of the two Ashvale Coven members who fell here, along with the beta originally from Lowri’s pack. They’ll be treated with the same care as the fallen from the Ashvale raid were. Oils and herbs layered with meanings I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand, then wrapped in that gauzy white fabric before the pyres are set.
I hate how familiar this feels. The sense of déjà vu settles deep, bitter, and unwelcome. I’ve already watched my mate walk away from me once to tend to the dead. Too much pain. Too much loss. I find myself praying, not for miracles, just this pocket of peace to stay. To give us a pause where nothing else is taken from us.
Pack Fallamhain has its own dead to honor.
Seven.
Including Rhosyn.
One of them an omega who fought like hell when traitors broke through her cabin door. From the state they found her in, she either fell or was shoved in the struggle. A shifter’s skull doesn’t fare any better than a human’s against a stone hearth.
The other five died scattered across the territory, on makeshift battlefields carved out of mud, blood, and snow.
They died defending their pack.
They’ll be remembered for that.
I don’t include the traitors in my count. Executions don’t belong on the same list.
“Canaan found me yesterday,” she says quietly. Her eyes leave my face, dropping to where her fingers worry the corner of the blanket. “Rhosyn really liked the coven’s traditions at the funeral she attended in Ashvale. Said she brought it up a fewtimes since. He asked if we’d be willing to include her in them today.”
Today.
The funeral.
We waited three days for the chaos to ease enough to give this the attention it deserved, and Amara’s elemental magic bought us that time by preserving the bodies until we were ready to lay them to rest.
We decided against holding two. One for the people from Ashvale and their rites, and another for my pack.
No, we’re doing this together. Amara will lead her people and the Craddock wolf through their customs. Zora will guide my pack through ours, as is her role as pack healer. The pyres will be lit at the same time.
It felt right since Amara and I talked it through, both of us agreeing that her people should stay here on Fallamhain territory for now. We’re stronger together. Until Tanith and her last remaining triplet make their move, combined forces makes the most sense.
I also assured the High Priestess that we’d find a way for them to safely visit Ashvale. Their home.
I can see in Noa’s eyes when she talks, about how much she misses it too. The sanctuary she built there with Thalassa, the apothecary she’s so passionate about. Finding a way to safety give that back to her, while also balancing everything here is the hurdle I don’t know how to jump, but I do know I’ll bend myself into whatever shape I need to keep her safe and content.
“You’ll be preparing Rhosyn’s body?” I ask, careful to keep my voice even.
I hate the thought of her putting herself through that kind of pain, but this isn’t something I can outwardly protest her doing. Noa knows her limits and if she felt she couldn’t do this one final act for Rhosyn, she wouldn’t have agreed to it.
