Mom's body lay in the front room, wrapped in white linen that someone from the pack had brought. Clean. Peaceful. Like she was sleeping instead of gone forever.
I couldn't look at her anymore. Every time I tried, my brain kept replaying the moment I'd walked into that blood-soaked living room, kept hearing her scream cut off too quickly. Kept seeing her eyes staring at nothing while strangers with fangs and claws decided her life was worth less than their war.
“It's time,” Evan said quietly from the doorway. He'd been hovering there for the past ten minutes, probably working up the courage to interrupt our grief with practical necessities. “The moon's right. Dad says it needs to be tonight.”
I nodded because words felt impossible. Because if I opened my mouth, the sound that came out might never stop.
Dad set down his mug with hands that shook just enough to make the ceramic rattle against wood. “How do we... what do I need to do?”
“Just be there,” Evan said, voice gentle in a way that made my chest tight. “The pack will handle the rest.”
The walk through the forest felt like a funeral march, our footsteps muffled by pine needles and the kind of mist that made everything look like a dream you couldn't quite remember. Wolves flanked us on either side, silent guardians moving through shadows with the fluid grace of creatures born to hunt.
But tonight they weren't hunting. Tonight they were mourning a woman who'd never known their names but had loved one of their own enough to matter.
Dad walked beside me, one hand gripping my shoulder like I was the only solid thing left in a world that had just revealed itself to be made of smoke and lies. His other hand carried nothing because there was nothing left to carry. Mom's body was being transported by pack members with reverent care, wrapped in white and treated like the sacred thing she'd always been.
The Moon Clearing opened before us like a wound in the forest, circular space where no trees grew and moonlight fell unobstructed by branches or leaves. Ancient stones marked the perimeter, worn smooth by centuries of weather and ritual, and the very air felt charged with power that made my skin prickle.
They were all there. The entire pack, maybe thirty souls gathered in a circle that encompassed the clearing's edge. Some stood on two legs, others had shifted to wolf form, massive shapes with eyes that caught the moonlight and reflected it back like mirrors. All of them had their heads bowed in respect for a woman most of them had never met.
The weight of that recognition, that honor, made my throat close up entirely.
In the center of the clearing, someone had built a pyre. Logs stacked with mathematical precision, gaps left for airflow, the whole thing rising maybe four feet off the ground. It looked ancient and primitive and absolutely right in ways that a funeral home with its sterile efficiency never could have managed.
“She would have liked this,” I whispered, and immediately regretted speaking because my voice came out cracked and raw.
Evan moved closer, close enough that I could feel warmth radiating from his skin. “Yeah?”
“She always said she wanted to be buried under the stars. Cremated, actually, but buried under the stars.” I laughed, and the sound came out bitter. “Guess she's getting both.”
Daniel stepped forward, and the entire clearing fell silent. Even the wind seemed to pause, leaves hanging motionless on branches that should have been swaying. Alpha presence was apparently a real thing, some kind of supernatural charisma that made every living creature in a half-mile radius sit up and pay attention.
“We gather tonight under the moon to honor Anna Harrington,” he said, voice carrying across the clearing with the weight of ritual. “She was not born to our pack. She carried no wolf in her blood, held no magic in her hands. But she was family nonetheless, bound to us through love and loss and the simple choice to open her heart to one of our own.”
His eyes found mine across the space between us, and I saw something in them that might have been understanding. Or maybe just the recognition of one grieving person seeing another.
“Anna lived with grace. She loved without reservation. She died protecting her family, which makes her as brave as any warrior who ever drew breath.” Daniel's voice grew stronger, carrying the weight of ritual and meaning that stretched back further than memory. “Tonight we send her spirit to whatevercomes after, and we promise that her death will not go unanswered.”
The last words rang out like a bell, like a vow sworn on sacred ground under a moon that had witnessed thousands of similar promises. Several wolves lifted their muzzles to the sky and howled, a sound that started low and built into something that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth.
I shivered, and not from cold.
Two pack members approached the pyre carrying Mom's body between them. They placed her gently on the stacked wood, arranging the white linen until she looked peaceful, dignified, like a queen laid to rest in state.
“Would you like to say anything?” Daniel asked, and I realized he was talking to Dad and me.
Dad stepped forward on legs that didn't look entirely steady, clearing his throat like words were foreign objects he was trying to dislodge. “She was... Anna was the best person I ever knew. The kindest. She made terrible coffee and sang off-key in the shower and worried about everyone except herself.” His voice broke on the last word, and tears carved tracks down cheeks that looked like they'd aged a decade in two days.
“She deserved better than this,” he continued, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “She deserved to grow old and meet her grandchildren and complain about my cooking for another forty years. She deserved peace.”
The words hung in the air like an accusation, and maybe they were. Because we all knew who was responsible for the fact that Anna Harrington would never get the life she'd earned through decades of small kindnesses and unconditional love.
I stepped forward before I could lose my nerve, legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. “She was everything good in the world,” I said, voice barely above a whisper but somehow carrying in the absolute silence of the clearing. “Shewas my anchor. My safe harbor. The person who taught me that love didn't have conditions or expiration dates.”
My throat closed up, and for a moment I couldn't continue. Couldn't find words for the hole her death had carved in my chest, the way breathing felt like drowning now that she wasn't there to remind me that everything would be okay.
“I wasn't there to protect her,” I managed finally, the confession tearing out of me like broken glass. “I should have been there. I should have saved her. And I can't... I can't live with that. I won't make that mistake again.”
