A man stood off to the side, holding up a burning torch and waiting for the right time to light what was left of the pack’s second and their young teen. The rest of the pack had gathered at the foot of the stairs. All of them stood quietly in their robes as they waited for Donovan to speak.

Donovan waited a moment before starting. “Tonight we run for John Nolan and Thomas Moore. Their losses weigh on us all, and only together can we mourn them and overcome our grief. John was my closest friend through centuries of happiness and sorrow. Battles and victories. I feel his loss all the way to my bones.” He paused. On the outside, he seemed fine, but inside, there was so much heartache over the loss of John, that I was worried for him.

As a wolf, there wasn’t much I could do, but I pressed my body into his leg, trying to give him something to lean on. I was here for him.

Donovan sank his hand into my fur and then continued. “Thomas was a bright young star. We were all looking forward to seeing the man that he’d grow into. We’ll never get the chance, and for that I’ll be forever sorry. I urge all of you to reach out to Tadhg and Elizabeth. Their grief is a burden we must all help carry. We’ll not let them down.”

The last bit was a little reprimand. It was deserved. I didn’t know what the rest of the pack had been thinking last night, but the fact that the pack should support a grieving Were should’ve been a given.

Donovan was silent for a moment, giving his words time to settle before continuing. “When we hit the eastern edge of our lands, the three relief patrols will go relieve the Cazadores who are securing the village. Whoever did this to our people is still out there. One thing can be certain. The beast that killed them is very powerful. Please be careful and cautious. If you see the fey beast, do not engage it alone. Only together can we defeat him, and I don’t care to lose another of my wolves.”

With that, Donovan shed his robe, shifting at the same time. By the time the robe hit the ground he was on all fours. The rustle of cloth filled the night as all of the pack members shifted, except the man with the torch. He lowered the flame to each pyre in turn and stepped back as the fire caught.