The pack's cemetery was beautiful. The lawns were kept well and the flowers that were resistant enough to Anchorage's weather were planted and left at gravesites. The shadows of the trees and the few statues here and there next to the markers and headstones were taking longer shapes on the ground, the day was coming to an end.
It was very quiet, it was peaceful.
Or did it feel like that because it was the safest place possible for my brother to be in right now?
I could hear each and every sound near us, but nature around here seemed to be respectful of the dead too. There were the occasional gentle swishing sounds of the tree leaves or the muffled sounds of insects and small animals, those were further away — probably scared of us — The loudest sound around was for her life force, the repetitive drumming of her healthy heart and her soothing breaths, Mine fell to the background as I focused on hers.
Words weren't necessary when I was with her.
