CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE - FRIENDS

ALPHA ASHA

I left my family’s graves and made my way into the pack cemetery, weaving through the headstones spanning back a century.

The south Asha pack was old, one of the oldest in the west, and had seen its fair share of bloodshed and senseless violence.

I was still ashamed that I had been a part of that violence, that I had contributed to the headstones sticking up out of the ground.

It was why I was there, walking further down the lines of fallen wolves until I spotted the very distinct headstone I had personally erected there months ago.

After Naomi’s blessing, I wanted to pay my respects to the late pack doctor and a young sentry who had been killed by rouges while on a recon mission to the pack borders about a year ago. For so long, the guilt and shame of losing a pack member, an innocent wolf who had only been trying to help, had eaten away at me until I was nothing. I stood before their graves, my hands clasped firmly behind my back to hide the subtle shaking in my fingers.