Veho was perhaps more aware than either of the younger wolves gave him credit for – missed certain things, but gained sensitivities he otherwise did not possess when the mushrooms weren’t in his system. He could see that Felix was humiliated, that Nineva too was uncomfortable. Felix, well, he couldn’t help that. He was a shy boy. Clearly too embarrassed to talk about breeding with his father – or maybe it was the pretty girl afoot.

He tipped his head to one side, pale eyes settling on Nineva instead. “Pack laws do not apply when you are not packed up, now,” he felt the need to point out. He saw the flinch. Did not like it. Was trying to help, he thought. “You were always a good girl.” Which could not be said for his own, but he would not dwell. Not think ill of the deceased. Something (someone) squalled in his mind, and he winced. Shook it off. “But you are not a girl anymore. And this is not a pack. A grown woman. What you do is for you to decide.”

The only laws that bound any of them, he could see, were the ones they decided to hold themselves too.

Even now, the pups could still warm his heart. They were hardly pups anymore. Felix himself was practically an adult, and Nineva had a whole four seasons on him. Still, they felt like children. Both of them – not in the sense that they were young in foolish – but only in the way a child could hold their parent’s heart.

The older wolf returned the loving gesture, nuzzling Nineva’s ruff, the side of her face. He even swept a few licks across those cheeks – paternal. Caring. “I love you too, Nineva. As much as any daughter of mine.”

And that was it, in truth. As Joan, Felix, and Ophelia had been his…Tomen and Nineva had been his as well, in equal parts.

Fade.