Sex: MaleThe solemn wolf's steps were ponderous as he wore a track around the edge of the clearing with his heart in his throat. He'd found the place easily enough. Nowhere else in the sequoia woods did the dry scent of dead, year old lavender dust the air. He could smell it even beneath the layer of snow that persisted in the shadows. One wouldn't name a place after lavenders in their absence, he reasoned. This had to be the right place. Even if it wasn't, the Attaya believed it was, and that was enough.
Still, nervousness clutched at him and kept him from delving into the ethos. It wasn't just the proximity of the pack. Even from here, he could smell a prevalence of wolves, and their scent clung to the ethos as well. And why wouldn't it? This was the resting place of Maksim Baranski, he thought, and that meant all of the Baranski wolves likely came here from time to time. Heaven knows Mace would visit his parents in their grave, if only he knew where they were, or whether they lived or not. That was a sad story for some other time, though.
At last, the Attaya broke from the tree line and swung his bulky figure out toward the middle of the clearing. His steps were quicker as he found the mound roughly in the middle, and then he sat heavily in front of it. There was no way to confirm that this was Maksim's grave. It could be nothing more than a hillock in the glade. Nevertheless, he treated it reverently, lowering his head and his ears and turning his eyes to the ground at his feet as though in prayer. But there was no prayer. Mace didn't believe in any gods. If he had, he'd no doubt have forsaken them by now.
Maksim, he began, and was surprised to find his voice choked with emotion. It had been three years or so since he last saw the Baranski patriarch, but it felt much shorter. Time hadn't driven the memories of this wolf from Mace's head. He couldn't say that for many others, but Maksim held a special place. Mace had looked up to him like no other. Even now, the memories were painted with a rosy brush, and any disagreements or disapproval was long forgotten and forgiven on his side. He couldn't imagine it was mutual, but he would never know.
I am sorry, old friend, he said quietly as he forced away a creeping feeling of foolishness. This is what wolves did, right? It wasn't that weird to talk to the dead. I left you, after all you did for my family. I left you, without even a sign of my appreciation to show for it. He wet his lips with a swipe of his tongue and blinked rapidly against a growing itch in his eyes. There were many words to say, but all of them felt inadequate.
I met your daughter. Inna, he clarified, and paused as though listening for a response. All he got was wind in the trees, the rattle of wood. Not a comforting sound in a place like this, so heavy with loss and memory that he could almost taste it. She seems a lot like you, you know. Always knows just what to say. At least, you always knew what to say to me. I wish I could say it made a difference, but you know us... we don't know how to stay put.
Did Maksim know? He'd been with Kade and Ava for as long as Mace was alive, but did he understand why the children wandered? No one could stop the flow of a river, and the rapids lived in each of them. It rushed in their veins, made up their life blood, and roared in their ears in their dreams. He could not stop himself from following his paws any more than a wolf could dam the rapids and keep it from running its course. It was the restlessness of the water that was his life that made him leave, and would make him leave time and time again.
The ethos was growing quiet. He couldn't see the clouds gathering through the thick tangle of branches overhead, but he could smell moisture on the wind. It would rain later. I wish things had been different, he sighed to the grave. I wish I'd had more control over my feet. I wish I'd been better at keeping my word. I meant to stay, I really did, but my word washed away, too.
And now, well... Mace took a shuddering breath and glanced up at the snowy woods. Damn you, Maksim. He swallowed thickly and his shoulders shook lightly. How could you die? How could you ever die? You were a rock in a storm, you couldn't. But you did. Mace had taken shelter behind it only to leave without gratitude, and the rock had rolled away in a gale, even though it seemed it should be impossible for that to happen. Maksim was gone, and Mace wasn't sure where to go next.
I am glad you had a family, though. To carry on your legacy. You deserve to be remembered for all you were. he said, and his voice died in his throat as a tear dripped down his cheek. Had Maksim still been alive, they might have met as strangers. Grief made the memories seem stronger, and more fond. I wasn't strong enough to be there for you like you were for my family, he concluded, but believe me, I never forgot you. I never will.
Maksim's ghost, and the ghost of Mace's failures, would be with him always. He stood, tail drooping and ears splayed back, and with a tightening of his lips, he declared, but I will not make that mistake again. I wasn't strong enough to be there for you, so I will be strong enough to be there for them. Tinley would be fine without him. Iyes he could visit. But the Baranskis... Mace had a life debt to repay to Maksim, and he would not fail again.
The pitch Attaya turned from the grave, and with a whispered, farewell, old friend, he trotted away in the direction of the nearby pack.