The young Drew settled into his room, burdened by the weight of his sorrow. He had wept for his master, convinced that he was to blame for Felicity's father's death. If only he hadn't ventured to the East side, he thought. His mother had tried to comfort him, insisting that it wasn't his fault the beta had died while protecting him, but her words did little to alleviate his guilt; in fact, they only intensified it.
The image of the sword embedded in Holland's back would forever haunt him. He often replayed that day in his dreams. As he gazed out of his window, his expression was devoid of emotion, resembling a lifeless boy, for he felt dead within.
The Luna was deeply troubled by her son Drew's refusal to eat. The poor boy seemed intent on starving himself, unable to move past the trauma
