The funeral was an all day affair. A funeral pyre had been erected and body after body had been burned. Almost every family lost someone. Last to go was the Alpha. They howled out their pain. The loss felt so keen, so intense. Astrid wondered if their pack could ever recover. Husbands, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons... so many gone. Grief, fear and pain ripped through them, but more than that, they were weaker now. With this many losses they were left vulnerable. Would the rogues return? Surely they knew what they'd done.
With the funeral over and night having fallen there wasn't anything they could do that day. But still, Astrid felt she needed to visit the wounded as their Luna. She made her rounds. The hours dragged on until finally, at midnight, she arrived back at the packhouse.
