The den didn’t let in much light, with its narrow entrance and long tunnel, but Seren didn’t care. He didn’t care that his coat was half-caked with mud, or that he hadn’t eaten in three days. Three days was how long it had been since Brielle had died in that blizzard; three days since his heart was shattered into tiny pieces. Everybody wondered what was wrong with him, and he didn’t care about that either, but none of them seemed to be at all torn by the loss. That bothered him a lot, but what bothered him most is that it was his fault that she had died. If he hadn’t let her go alone, or go at all, he could have prevented all of this pain and tragedy.
Finally he rose to his feet, stiffly after having laid in the same place for so long. Not even shaking the thick mud off his side, he trudged his way through the tunnel and into the clearing where his pack was crowding around a kill. He squeezed his