Alarick dug through the pile of ash and still glowing embers, ignoring the burns that singed his hands as the village people looked on in horror. Their Alpha had apparently lost his mind in his grief, and it terrified them to think what it would mean for their pack to lose their Luna and be subjected to a crazed Alpha. Before long, however, a figure began to emerge from the cinders, and a small child pointed her finger and cried, “Look! Mama, look!”
Her raven hair had turned ghostly white, and grey ash covered her body, but other than that, she appeared to be merely sleeping as Alarick lifted his mate into his arms. His hot tears carved trails through the soot clinging to his cheeks as he held her close and stumbled his way back to the castle.
He bathed her himself, not trusting anyone
