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The lids of his eyes fell heavy and slow. Darkness surrounded him for only a brief moment, yet it felt like an eternity.

As his eyes opened again, time slowed to a crawl. The sound in the room had faded away completely, leaving only a dull buzz in his ears. Even the sounds of his own breathing, of his heart beating, felt like a distant vibration in the air.

He watched as Ashleigh’s face contorted in shock and pain. The tortured expression scrunched her face in on itself. Finally, her mouth opened in a silent howl of anguish.

He swallowed, watching her fall to her knees as the grief hit her full force. Caleb wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His lips moved against her head as he rocked her slowly.

For the briefest moment, Axel wondered what words of comfort he offered.

Was he telling her that he understood her pain? Was he telling her that it would be all right? Was he simply reminding her that he was there for her?

Axel swallowed.

Former Alpha Wyatt of Winter was gone.

Wyatt of Winter was gone.

His father was….

Axel clenched his jaw, turning his attention back to Ashleigh.

He couldn’t hear her screams, her cries, but the expression on his sister’s face gripped his heart.

Axel moved behind her, placing his hand on her back. He offered her comfort through his touch. Then, above her head, his eyes met with Caleb’s.

Caleb nodded to him.

Axel looked away.

His mind turned even further. It took him to a place way back in his memory, to a time when he was small, before the Blood Moon, before his wolf.

Axel stood with his tiny hand held by the warmth of his father’s much larger hand. He looked up at the great man. His hair was not the same peppery color of the present, but a dark blonde that was almost brown. However, the tightly woven braids still remained.

Through the eyes of the small boy, he saw his father as a solid and unshakeable figure, a man that would never fall.

And yet, a tear fell from his eye. His jaw was set in a severe expression. He looked hard and cold, but Axel knew he was warm. He was hurt.

Young Axel pulled away from his father.

Wyatt looked down at the boy, and young Axel wrapped his arms around his father’s leg.

Wyatt let out a soft chuckle and ruffled Axel’s hair. Then, he reached down and lifted the small boy into his arms.

“Do you wish to comfort your father?” Wyatt asked.

Young Axel nodded his head and hugged Wyatt around the neck tightly.

Wyatt chuckled once more.

“It’s all right, my boy,” Wyatt whispered, patting his son’s back. “There is no cause for concern. I am not sad.”

Young Axel pulled back, searching his father’s eyes for sadness. Wyatt smiled. He turned his head; a soft orange glow highlighted his sad smile.

“His time with us is over,” Wyatt said softly, “but now my father returns to the Goddess.”

Young Axel turned his head to look out at the funeral pyre for his grandfather.

Wyatt took a deep breath.

“We will honor him through our actions, Axel,” Wyatt said, turning back to face his son. “We are the future of Winter, and we will make it a great one. Won’t we?”

Young Axel nodded his head.

“I’ll find a room for her.”

Axel stared up at Caleb with confusion. His words have brought Axel back to the present.

Caleb stood; he held a sleeping Ashleigh in his arms.

Axel got to his feet. He looked at his sister, her face was red, and heavy bags decorated her eyes. He reached out, touching her hair gently.

“She has been awake all night,” Axel whispered. “We both have.”

Caleb nodded.

“I will find a room for her, get her settled in for a few hours of rest,” he said. “Please, wait for me here.”

“I need to return,” Axel said. “Mom… needs to be told.”

“I know,” Caleb said. Adjusting his position to give Ashleigh a more supported position against his shoulder. “But there is something you need to know before that.”

Axel furrowed his brows. What more could he need to know?

He took a deep breath and nodded. As Caleb left the small room, Axel took a seat. He closed his eyes as a deep ache grew behind them.

The weight of the night was beginning to settle over him.

He saw the expression on his mother’s face, the panic that had filled her eyes. The slight tremble of her body. The way she had scratched at her chest, gasping for air, choking.

And then the scream. The silent scream grew into one that threatened to burst his eardrums. A sound that he had no doubt would haunt his dreams for years to come.

Had that been the moment, he wondered. Was that the moment when they had lost him? Did his mother already know?

Axel sighed.

He would need to make the arrangements. The pyre would need to be tonight or tomorrow at the latest. Any longer would be seen as preventing Wyatt from his journey back to the Goddess.

A feast would need to be organized a week later. A celebration of life, a sharing of memories, a toast to his return to her side.

Axel clenched his jaw.

He remembered his grandfather’s feast. He had hidden under the table and listened as the speeches were given, as the laughter and singing filled the night sky.

It had confused him.

He was sad. He missed his grandfather. How could all these people be so happy when he was gone?

It was his mother that found him. He heard her approach and quickly lay down and pretending he was asleep. She lifted him into her arms, carrying him in silence until she came to a stop. A moment later, Axel was pulled away by two large, warm hands.

As he lay against his father’s chest, Axel did his best to continue his charade.

But there was something he didn’t realize. He had been crying.

“These men and women loved your grandfather,” Wyatt whispered as he walked. “Each and every one of them mourns him as strongly as you. Yet, the laughter, the songs, the joy all around us right now is not because of his death, but because of his life.”

Wyatt chuckled and sighed.

“My father was well loved,” he said. “The funeral of an Alpha of Winter is not a place of sadness and regret. Instead, it is a celebration of the life that was lived. It is a time to honor the man who is gone and send our most grateful and happy thoughts to the Goddess. Thank her for blessing us with such a man to have guided us as long as he did.”

Young Axel could pretend no longer.

“But I am sad,” he said softly.

Wyatt stopped walking. He lowered his head and looked down at his son with fresh tears in his eyes and a wide smile.

“My heart is broken, my boy. But with each story, each laugh of another person touched by my father’s life, another stitch is sewn into my heart. In time, the wound will heal until all that remains is a small scar.”

Wyatt looked around at the celebration, at each of the men and women raising their steins and toasting again and again to his father.

He sighed with a gentle smile.

“When my time comes,” he whispered. “I can only hope there is such joy at my feast.”