It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He gulped down lungfuls of fresh mountain air, barely a step from hyperventilating, and focused his gaze on the horizon behind him. Nardir's horizon. The familiar mountain range, the perimeter of Nardir's homeland, put a pang of loss in his heart and made his eyes water. He'd gotten as many Nardiri out as he could, ranged around their crater for their scattered survivors, helped Alana and Julek count heads and take stock of who they had left. It wasn't many. He'd gone back in twice looking for more Nardiri, looking for Kestrel, looking for Bell, but it was like the mists that rose up from the tendrils had caused his missing loved ones to vanish.

His limbs shook. His heart skipped every third beat, making his chest feel tight and heavy. He couldn't go back in a third time. By the light of the moon, he wanted to, he wanted to go in and stay in until he found Kestrel. But he forced himself to turn and look at the assembled Nardiri, what was left of them, and he forced himself to think of what the survivors needed at this moment. And he hated himself for it. He took a step toward the group, away from Nardir's mountains. No! Kestrel! He felt like sobbing. His throat constricted and his insides screamed at him to go back, but he didn't, he couldn't, and he hated himself for it. He hated the hurricane he'd survived years ago and for the first time he hated himself for surviving it. He hated every single memory since then that bubbled up and threatened to drown him in the feeling of loss. He hated the marshlands, he hated that Akutan ever let him in, he hated the ease with which he'd grown to love Alana and then Julek, he hated his drive to watch the border and meet all who sought entry and check up on them later and make friends with them and watch over them and laugh with them and take trips with them and fall in love with them because everything, all of it, had led up to this moment when everything was ripped away and he was left standing, an undeserving survivor, to preside over the broken remains.

Was she dead? What if he never saw her smile again? He choked back a sob. He couldn't think of himself in this moment. He couldn't think of her, he couldn't think-- he had to look forward, press forward, ever forward, for those who remained. He was a leader! He needed to lead! He looked at the survivors, recognizing every face, recognizing-- Phillip? He latched onto Phillip's face, his oldest friend, the only one left from his life before the hurricane. Phillip, who'd never liked being in a wolf pack no matter how nice they were. Phillip, who'd still stayed in Nardir even when Familiaris had risen. Phillip deserved better than another broken pack, and he deserved better than Puffin's sobbing desperation. Puffin latched onto that. What did Phillip need? What could Puffin still do?

They had allies that could take them in. Inaria certainly would, he knew. They could rest up there and take the time they needed to decide where to go next. Where to begin anew. He trembled. He couldn't stop himself from turning to look back at the mountains. He struggled to gather the strength to approach Alana and Julek, to confer with them, to turn to his remaining packmates and give the order. He had led them across the strait before, he could do it again. He had to do it again. But it was all he could to wrench his gaze away from the mountains. Some survivors had to remain! Missing didn't mean dead!

It was just like after the hurricane. Dogs scattered to the four winds, nothing left to unite them until Familiaris. That's where he'd finally seen Cyrus again, an old dog just looking for a safe place to rest. Koen had ended up there too, for a time, until Familiaris had fallen and then who knows where they all went. Only a small handful had ever come to Nardir. Phillip certainly wouldn't have if Puffin hadn't rescued him from slavery elsewhere. What dogs would go to a pack of wolves? Would Anika and Hudson have come to Nardir if Puffin himself hadn't been there? He wondered.

Truth swept him up all at once, and his pawpads tingled with the terrific, exhilarating fear of looking down from a great height for the first time. He didn't want to go to Inaria, he realized. There was a void in his heart that had never been refilled, a terrible ache he'd simply been able to forget about for awhile; but just like after the hurricane, he was untethered. The love of his life was missing, while Nardir had a clear path to Inaria and beyond, and it occurred to him that he did not need to lead them there. Not when there was someone who needed him more.

The void created by the hurricane and reopened with Familiaris' fall called to him, and as his gaze was fixed on Phillip's face, he saw a path before him that did not lead to Inaria.

He took a step toward Alana. The words found their way to his tongue, easier than he ever thought possible, and he took another step. His heart ached, but something settled into place in his heart, and he felt his breathing slow. He closed the rest of the distance, and spoke. "Alana," he began, his heart pounding in his ears. "I think the next step is for Nardir to seek sanctuary in Inaria." He waited for her reply, all the while taking in her state and fatigue. They all looked ragged, but leaders always took the heaviest toll, he had come to realize.

His next words flowed like honey, even as they broke his heart. "I won't be going with you." He swallowed, watching her, knowing this would be a surprise but hoping it wasn't totally unexpected, given Kestrel. "I need...I need to stay behind, near these mountains. I'm going to continue to search for survivors, and I'll send along to Inaria anyone I find." A good tactical decision, he thought, to leave someone behind just in case. A terrible decision, tactically, to leave behind one of your leaders instead of just a scout.

He waited for her reaction and response, and as he did so he weighed his next words very carefully. There was so much to say. How could he say it all? How could he put to words everything he needed to convey? How did he tell his queen, the woman who had given him so much, that he was leaving?