The two men stood solemnly at the edge of Eternal Sleep Lake that morning.
Above them, the gloomy clouds covered the vast expanse of sky. The greyish fluffs were reflected in the clear lake water, drifting in an unhurried pace from the edge of the lake to the center.
Ronan held the urn with both hands. His empty gaze drifted along the water surface, seeking solace in the resting place of all werewolves, generation after generation.
Lucien touched the small spot on Ronan's back.
"Ronan?"
The Alpha snapped back from his trance and cleared his throat.
"My Mom was an only daughter, the last person who carried the name of the Fangblade family. Her parents doted on her a lot. Although the family never belonged to any pack, she was raised properly as a high-born she-wolf, more than what most Alpha's daughters can say about their upbringings.
She is loyal and has never once strayed from the righteous path.