She’d come to accept my humans. To my delight she lured her pack, all ten of them, to bow to Father, with me behind him, despite our disease.
The changing grew even harder on Father as he aged, but in this moment he swaggered on four legs, a proud grandfather nuzzling my mewing offspring. In a few hours, little Gerranne and five cubs would be embraced in his arms, and my heart swelled with happiness.
I glanced to the sinking sun. Yellow as Gerra’s lovely eyes used to be, the rising moon always claimed dominance, glimmering with the memory of those we’d lost and illuminating those we found with affection.