Chapter 17
How dare the sun show its bright, bold face today?
And the serene, clear blue sky was simply all wrong.
The beauty and tranquility belittled the horrific tragedy that took place here, seven years ago to the day.
In his wolfan form, Tristan Durrance padded across the isolated forest cove. It had taken a long time, but the pack was finally healing. The violent loss of Mason Walker, the eldest Alpha son, had struck all the Wahyas in Walker’s Run hard, but particularly Tristan. Mason had saved his life, become his mentor and his closest friend. His senseless death was a deep wound that hadn’t quite closed.
Tristan wished he had been with Mason and his younger brother, Brice, on that fateful day. His presence wouldn’t have prevented the rogues’ attack, but he could’ve evened the odds. Maybe Mason wouldn’t have died and Brice wouldn’t have nearly lost his leg, if Tristan had only listened to his instincts.
Something had felt off that morning. The sensation had wormed its way beneath his skin and inched into his muscles, making him restless and irritable.
Much like today.
He blamed the feeling on working too hard, too little sleep and the anniversary of his best friend’s brutal murder.
Tristan never found peace when he came to the cove, but usually the dark, dank, somber woods nursed his misery. Today, however, all signs of the violent past were obliterated by fresh green moss, tiny blades of grass and delicate flowers with colorful petals stretching toward the barrage of morning sunbeams breaking through the tall, skinny pines. Even the gentle breeze carried the fresh, fragrant scent of summer.
He scratched at the ground, his paw slicing through the gossamery green disguising the greedy soil that had soaked up Mason’s blood. Life had sprung from death, yet Tristan found no solace that it had. Everything and everyone had moved on.
Why couldn’t he?
Stuck in a rut, he didn’t quite know how to get out of it or if he wanted to. Most wolfans his age were mated and had a wolfing or two in tow. He wished them the best, all the while resigning himself to a life of bachelorhood. Coming from a long line of wolfans mated unhappily-ever-after, he preferred to be alone than to spend his life stuck in a doomed relationship he could never be free of.
Life is what you make of it, so make the choice to be a better man.
Mason’s voice whispered through Tristan’s mind. A memory rather than comfort from beyond the grave. In life, Mason had spoken those words to Tristan on more than one occasion and he found the sentiment both inspiring and irritating, depending on mood and circumstance.
Right now, Mason’s words of wisdom deepened Tristan’s restlessness. After all, he had made the choice to be a better man. He gave one hundred and ten percent to pack, family and community.
His efforts were never enough. Never good enough. People always wanted more.
Tristan stretched out over the freshly unearthed dirt and rested his chin on his paws.
“Brice has a daughter now. Brenna—she’s a real cutie.” Just as if Mason were next to him, Tristan used the telepathic communication Wahyas employed when in their wolf form. “She has the Walker coloring, with a touch of red that she got from her mama. And her eyes... I swear, sometimes I see you looking at me through her eyes.”
Silence answered, as always.
Still, Tristan shared everything that had happened with the pack since his last visit, a year ago. When there was nothing left to tell, he pushed up on all four paws.
“Gotta go,” his thoughts whispered, because there was no sense in expressing how
