Mid-morning, cloudy skies. Light breeze.
He couldn’t breathe.
The mountain air was thin. From the very first moment when they had begun to climb in elevation, Serach had noticed the difference. Every breath was a little bit harder, required a little more effort from his lungs. There were moments, when he was bent over coughing and desperately praying for the attack to stop, that he wondered if he might never take a painless breath again.
The forest-dweller had desperately wanted to return to the Bend. But logic had overridden that desire. He had seen the destruction with his own eyes, and even if the fire had not burnt his beloved trees entirely to the ground, it would take years for that particular section of Spectral Woods to recover. Even if the wolves returned, their prey was not likely too. Especially with the winds of winter bearing down upon them.
He couldn’t breathe.
Serach flared his nostrils, hoping that would somehow increase his airflow to an acceptable rate. But his efforts were futile as another round of the coughing began. This time it didn’t last quite as long, and for that at least he was grateful. Shaking his body as though he was shedding water, he tried to throw off the fatigue he was feeling before setting off to continue his hunt.
Gingerly he made his way through the rocky landscape. He slipped repeatedly, his paws unaccustomed to the uneven slopes. Even the small ones disoriented him, adding to his discomfort. But he trudged on, although the going was slow. Much slower than if he had been in Spectral Woods, he couldn’t help but grumble to himself. If there were any prey hiding among the rocks and pines, they were surely aware of his clumsy attempt at tracking and had made their escapes.
He couldn’t breathe.
Opening his mouth as wide as he could, Serach gulped down air like it was water to save his burning lungs. There was a little more relief this time around, but the crisp mountain air quickly dried out his mouth, adding to his discomfort. With a grunt, he sat down on his haunches against the base of a pine tree. Shifting uncomfortably on the needles, he eventually settled and looked out over the slope below him. He was not a fan of the mountains, but even he had to admit that the view was breathtaking.
It had become clear soon after reuniting with Aponi that his mate had not expected Aurora Heights to no longer be there. But there were no traces of Kyna and her family. Serach had chosen to believe that they had left on their own free will, perhaps relocated elsewhere in the Lore. Something that they would likely need to do soon themselves, he thought glumly. Although certainly not by choice.
They were all coming to terms with the fact that they were now adrift in the world. It was hard on them all, and he was failing miserably at being a rock for the rest of his family. Serach was stuck processing his own grief, struggling somewhere between pain, anger, and desolation. He didn’t even know how to grieve for the loss of the Bend. He’d lost the physical land...the trees he was so familiar with, the three waterfalls named for his sisters, and the den where he and his children were born. They had been the backdrop of virtually his entire life, and anything else just didn’t feel right. But the Bend was also his family, and regardless of what else had happened, he had most of his family here with him. That was the only bright spot in this whole situation, but even his eternal gratitude for that solace could not lift his mood and gear him up for doing whatever it was they needed to do next. And most was not all. Lila was still missing, and even if she returned to the Bend now, she would find no familiar faces there to meet her.
He couldn’t breathe.
The cough racked his body, forcing him fully down on the ground and eventually onto his side. It took several minutes before it finally subsided, leaving his chest aching. Serach panted, his sides heaving like he had just been sprinting. But he could barely lift his head, nevermind run. Shutting his eyes, he resigned himself that there would be no successful hunt today. Another disappointment to deliver to his family...
The plan was for them to make their way down the other side of the mountain and go to Charred Ash Draw. Serach wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but he had no alternatives. If Kisla was still alive, he would have suggested going to Hearthwood...but those days were long gone, and Serach was doubtful that Driftwood would be receptive to taking in his entire family. The same was likely true of their allies in Shallows Edge.
He had briefly considered going to Wild Rye Fields, but that was a long way north and it had been more than a year since he had seen Jessie, and nearly six months since Lila had returned from her trip to the Fields. Serach could not even be sure that Ice was still there, and after so long, he didn’t know what he would say to his father. How could he explain that he’d lost the Bend? Even if he could manage that, he didn’t know if he would have the courage to tell his father the truth - that he was hurt and disappointed that Ice had left him...again. The son had been able to forgive once, but he did not have it in him to forgive his father a second time.
No, he silently admitted, going to the Draw makes the most sense. But it was also not without challenges and confrontations he would rather not deal with. At best, they would only have to answer Treyah’s questions about what had happened. Sahalie would be harder to face, but at least with her, Serach felt confident that she wouldn’t blame him for what had happened.
He couldn’t breathe.
The coughing didn’t last as long this time, but only because his stomach lurched unpleasantly before it could finish. Ever since the fire, he’d been coughing up murky, gray mucus. But this was the first time something more solid came up with it. The exertion left him dizzy, and a weak, pathetic whine slipped out from between his lips.
Triell. Oh if his uncle could see him now. Even the possibility made his stomach twist and turn violently. Last Serach had heard, the Tainn wasn’t even in the Draw anymore, having gone missing at some point in the previous year. But they had never gotten their closure from what had happened...and while the Donata had found it in him to forgive Sahalie her transgressions, he could not bring himself to give her the father the same courtesy. Even nearly two years later, the feeling of betrayal stung so badly that the sheer idea of showing up at the borders Triell had established made Serach’s blood pressure spike.
But they had no choice. And for the sake of his children, the Bend leader (if that’s even what he was anymore) would swallow his pride. For them alone, he would confront the challenge that had underscored his entire life and allow it to be okay. Triell, Ice, his brothers Sceral and Fenru, and countless others - they were all guilty of the same crime of abandoning him without saying goodbye.
He had grown up hearing his mother’s stories about the transient nature of her first mate. Serach himself had been barely weaned when Ice first left. Barely six months when his mother had died. Not much more than a yearling when first his older brother, and then his littermate had left him. It had ingrained in him a profound sense of loss and a stubborn sense of loyalty to the only place he had ever called home. Now that home was lost, and he didn’t know how to cope with losing the only constant presence in his life.
Thank god I have her, a wry smile twisted his lips before another cough racked his body. Lord where would he be without Aponi? Adrift and struggling to accept what had happened, his mate was his lifeline. She had always been braver than him, and now was no different. He had once told her that he would follow her wherever she went, no matter what. Although he had said it in anger at the time, he meant it always. And he had every intention of following through with that promise.
And at least the kids would get to experience something new. Mabel, Corsair, and Ayla didn’t inherit their father’s recluse outlook on life, and while it would take time for them to grieve the loss of the Bend too, he also had high hopes that they would embrace the adventure. And if not...well, he was sure that Mabel would compel her siblings. Serach let out a soft chuckle at the thought. Yes, his eldest daughter certainly took after Aponi in that respect.
He was even more certain that Kisina and Azra would come out of this okay. There would likely be other pups in the Draw, and it would benefit them greatly to grow up around wolves outside of their immediate family. They too would need to adjust - he could already hear Azra’s neverending questions and see Kisina’s excitement at new adventures - but he was hopeful for their future.
It was time for him to start heading back. Wearily he lifted his head off the ground, but slumped back exhausted after his body refused to follow suit. The coughing began almost instantly, each wave more violent and painful than the last.
I can’t breathe.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, but he was powerless to do anything about it. His lungs were screaming out for air, but no matter how quickly and deeply he tried to inhale, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Instinct kicked in, every cell fighting for life so he could make it back to his family. His legs were flailing, trying to get him off the ground so he wouldn’t be so vulnerable. But he was too weak and unable to get a stable enough breath to push himself up.
”Hhhh”elp. He couldn’t even complete the word; his body too desperate for air to waste any on words that no one would hear. The only sounds he could make were guttural, tortured whines in between the coughing.Tears ran down his cheeks. They would be dry before anyone found him.
Serach’s final moments were filled with pain and agony. His last conscious thoughts were of his family, their faces flashing in his mind’s eye before everything went black. He was dimly aware that he was committing the same sin that had been committed against him so many times, but try as he might, he could not fight his way back to his family to say his goodbyes. The coughing subsided soon after he lost consciousness, his heaving sides finally still as his body resigned to the inevitable. The signs of his struggle gave evidence to the events that transpired: the disturbed dirt where his body had thrashed in his death throes and the drying blood and mucus he had been coughing up.
In the end, it was the burning of his cherished home that had killed him. He had inhaled too much smoke while searching for his family, permanently eroding the effectiveness of his lungs. But he had done it to save his family, and if given the choice to do the same, knowing what the consequence was, he would have acted no differently.