Since the death of Maksim and the arrival of both the twins and Karina’s bundle of joy, Lachesis had not seen as much of Kisla as he would have liked. He felt guilty for being so caught up in his own life and being insensitive toward what had happened in hers. Not only had she lost Maksim, but she had also lost some of her children, who had wandered away from Hearthwood. It was also the first year in several that Kisla had not given birth. There had been a lot of unexpected changes in her life, and XIX felt as though he owed it to his late friend to be there for his widow.
The marks on his cheek were beginning to fade and the limp in his leg was almost completely gone. While he had won the challenge Lachesis was still worried that once his health returned Kjors would be in hot pursuit of the throne. The ghost would hold onto his position until his dying breath — he would not allow Hearthwood to fall into the claws of the dragon. This was his pack and his home; he would not allow Kjors to take control. But, as much as Hearthwood was his, it also belonged to Kisla. As he dragged himself from his infirmary the ghost wondered if the queen had gotten word of the challenge. A frown creased his maw as he made his way to her den. The sun had not yet risen from the horizon, which meant that most of the river wolves would still be in deep slumber.
Hovering at the entrance to Kisla’s den he called down to her, asking for her to follow him before he slunk away to the river’s edge, away from prying ears. The air was beginning to grow colder as August dragged on. Soon fall would takeover the lands of Relic Lore, followed swiftly by the arrival of winter. He shuddered at the thought. The ghost hoped their numbers would increase by then, but only time would tell.
stick with those who stick with you