Michael
Arriving at the border of our pack lands, I parked my car and walked into Ella’s Diner. Many of my pack members had already moved through to the burial site, she told me, but she wouldn’t be making it today. She had grown too old to walk up the mountain.
Her granddaughter walked on her behalf and I kissed her on her forehead, thanking her for her love. She was the mother to all the pack who lost a mother. The aunt, the best friend, the shoulder to cry on. The glue that sometimes kept the pack together when things got tough. Hugging me back for a second, she let me go, softly starting to cry. I didn’t look back and walked to the office where I undressed and shifted. Tying my boxers to my front leg for when I reach the mountain.
As I walked out the back door, I saw my father’s B
