Downwind Wing

I wasn't expecting it. No one was, really. He's seen his fair share of days, sure, but do you ever truly expect it? No, I think we all expect just one more day. One more chance to say our goodbyes. One. . . Just one more.

I say these words before the body of our beloved Scout, Downwind Wing, so that his spirit may be released and guided to the home of our ancestors, and he may join their ranks.
You have served your pack well, and I release you from your life's task. Be at rest, and be at peace. May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.

As Foliage Speckles speaks the last words, Chinook Fin takes his cue, as the remaining Scout. He throws his head to the sky and lets out a low, mournful howl. As he breaks for breath, Oak Pollen and Weasel Paw join in. As the leader's mate, Silk Wind adds her voice next, followed by each of the pupsitters in turn, and finally, each of the hunters. The clear night rings with the sorrowful singing of what sounds like a thousand wolves, their echoing harmonies almost convincing passers-by that even the ancestors have joined the chorus.