Some tears welled up in his eyes, but they refused to fall. One of those wolves was his beloved mate, probably a month in due with the pup in her and all. Both died of a attack. They didn't deserve it. Why did this happen? No one knows for sure, but there has been some minor assumptions. For one, either one of the members from either pack went hysterical and attacked one of the opposing members, causing a riot or just by chance. The flood of images swiveled around his subconsciousness, all those memories of his mate blocked everything else around him. One was when they first met.
As Daemon sat over by a shaded tree on a summer's morn, a she-wolf padded over to a river, in Daemon's view. She crouched down close to the edge, with the water tapping her forepaws gently. She lowered her head close to the river, seeing her reflection, her tongue lapped over the riverbed, quenching herself. Daemon watched closely, breathing quietly to not let her detect him. She lifted her head a moment before sitting down, glancing up at the sky. "Sure is hot today." She hummed. Her voice was regal and formal. That, made him turn shy and continued to gawk at her. She darted her pupils to the male by the tree; he buried his head in his paws in a response.
The memory quickly faded at a waft of wind batted down on his maw, irritating his nose. "I see." He could understand. He retreated back to fetal position and sighed.
(Um, yeah. She'll come to you when ready/prompted to.)
