With apologies, Serge worked in his office after supper. I understood. His presence warmed me, but I was scarcely his only concern. I forced myself to fight through my ever present haze of icy anxiety to do the things that helped me keep fighting. I listened to music and looked at photographs and recorded my experience of the magic.

I ventured out of my room when I heard him moving around. My quick look showed me that he smiled and I returned the expression.

"How are holding up?" he asked.

"I'm okay," I said.

"Want to run?" Denizen came trotting down the hall, panting and wagging his tail. He had heard a word that he well recognized. I smiled.

"Yes," I agreed. Without further discussion I followed him outside into the darkening forest.

I transformed and met the two of them near the house. I wagged my tail at Serge and Denizen assaulted my face with his tongue affectionately. He danced around us and I let his playfulness distract me from all the weight on my shoulders.

As we ran through the forest, the sky above the setting sun turned a vibrant dark aqua. I saw more than well enough as I ran just a bit behind Serge. My paws hit the ground rhythmically and I panted with my pleasure and exertion. It was relief and it felt good.

Howling sounded far off in the distance and it took me only a minute to recognize the sound of my father's mournful cry, which was then joined by other members of the pack. My heart constricted, it was a primal dirge for a lost brother.

Serge paused in the run and looked at me. I met his gaze with a steadiness I had once never believed I would manage. I was not sure precisely what he was thinking, but I knew it was about the sound ringing through the trees.

I moved my head up and down and he changed direction to lead me closer to the sound. Both Denizen and I followed him silently until we were on the border between his territory and my father's. He stopped and he threw back his head and howled his sympathy for my old pack.

I joined him and Denizen did the same, our voices intertwining in the song of loss.

* * *  *  *  *  * * *

Thursday was another day of grief, although I had never even met Larry. I went with Serge to the pack offices early, before anyone had even arrived. It was strange being there when they were so quiet.

Instead of sitting in my little crevice office, I sat in a comfortable chair off to the side of Serge's desk while he tried to get ahead on the work he had to do for the day. I was no less comfortable than if I were in my usual spot and I found that I liked being near him, even though the magic still tried to shake me with his presence.

Still, I was getting good at shoving my anxiety to the back of my mind where I would not focus on it. Even the chills over my skin were beginning to feel like a normal part of my day.

I tried to force my attention onto my book to little avail. I put it down on the table beside me. A glance in his direction showed me that he was reading something on his monitor. His brow was furrowed and then he began typing something.

I smiled to myself and pulled out my phone. I turned it on and looked at the text messages I had received from Beth. With a sigh I read through them and found they were mostly just talking about things I just couldn't care about. I responded generically and then checked my messages with my father.

He had not texted anything since yesterday.

Me: [Hey dad, how are you doing?]

Dad:[As good as could be expected.]

Me: [Yeah, sorry. How's Sean doing?]

Dad: [Very upset]

Dad: [But you should be worrying about yourself.]

Me: [I'm fine.]

Me: [I'm at the office here right now.]

Dad: [This early?]

Me: [He's trying to get ahead on work since there's a funeral here this afternoon.]

I still could not bring myself to write Serge's name, as inconvenient as that was, but my fingers felt less cold as I tapped the screen. It was easy to feel a little optimistic when things seemed to be getting progressively better, even thought the curse still wished to ravenously consume what little hope I had.

Dad: [I heard, give him my sympathies, please.]

I reread the text. Was my father saying something civil to Serge? It seemed impossible. I smile formed on my lips almost without me being aware of it.

Me: [I will. Ttyl dad.]

I turned back to my book.

* * *  *  *  *  * * *

Serge and I ate lunch together and then shortly we after we drove back to the house. I was pretty much ready, but I pulled on a different shirt and put a sweater over it. I met Serge in the kitchen with time to spare.

He was drinking coffee in his usual spot. I paused to admire him for as long as I could keep my gaze on him. He looked tired and it made sense because of all the strain he was under, but still his authority was apparent and he wore it well.

I felt another twang in my heart for him. It was an odd feeling, a sort of longing desire to offer him my support because I wanted to be the one to lessen the furrowing of his brow. I wanted him to smile for me, I realized.

I moved closer to him before the curse could really sink its claws in. He looked up at me and I met his eyes again.

"S-Serge? My dad sent his sympathies," I told him.

He smiled and pleasure swelled at the sight before my eyes fled from his handsome face.

"Let him know I appreciate the sentiment, please."

I nodded. I was mostly happy that I was acting as a conduit for civil interactions between them. He took my hand in his and pulled me closer. I perched on the edge of the stool next to him so that I was about level with him.

"Sorry this isn't ideal timing, Elise, but I have something for you."

I glanced at him searchingly. He pulled a small box from behind him and it was instantly obvious it was a ring. I smiled and glanced at his eyes, and then back at his hand.

He opened the box. A delicate ring set with several embedded diamonds shone in the indirect midday light coming in through the windows.  "I already asked you, but Elise, would you agree to marry me, again?"

"Of course, S-Serge." Everything that had happened since he asked me had made me only more sure of my decision. Under all the chains of the magic my happiness expanded like a growing thing. I wanted this so much that there was too much emotion for the curse to entirely dim the feeling.

He looked genuinely happy. "This was my mother's engagement ring."

Tears pushed at the back of my eyes at the thought. There were no words for how much it meant to me.

He slipped the ring onto my finger. I wanted him to be mine and I wanted to be his in return. I leaned forward and brought my lips to his.

We stayed like that, as if we could better come to understand each other with our lips. I put my hands around his neck and his were on my back and my sides, and somehow there was no more space between us.

I realized that I loved him, and in that moment it was almost as if the curse was completely gone.

Finally, we stopped. Serge's voice was huskier than normal when he said, "We should go, Elise."

A small smile spread across my lips. I could not help but enjoy deep feminine satisfaction at his reaction to me.

I touched my hair to ensure it had not become too mussed and once satisfied we made our way out the door.

* * *  *  *  *  * * *

The community center in Serge's territory felt like a feature of my nightmares since the challenge against Serge and this day did not make it better. The funeral was held in a picturesque little clearing with lines of chairs located not far from where Serge had almost died by Landon's teeth. I swallowed at the thought of how close to I had come to almost losing him before I even had been entirely aware of what I had to lose.

The ceremony was similar to what we had attended yesterday at my pack. Pastor Jensen looked very much the same as he had the previous day, but before he spoke, Serge left his seat beside me and talked to the assembled crowd.

"Thank you all for coming today. It's with deep sorrow that we have had to be gathered here for such a tragic reason. Larry was a faithful fighter and I feel great sadness that I wish to extend my condolences to his wife, his children, his family and his friends. Larry was one of us and cannot be replaced, but I swear to you that we will fight on, bearing Larry and all the others we have lost in our memories."

There were a few murmurs of agreement from the congregation and Serge reclaimed his seat. He took my hand and I glanced at where we were joined. The metal of the ring on my finger gleamed in the sunlight.

So many things rushed under the constant fear that my contact with Serge did not completely diminish in that moment: grief for the deceased, sympathy for those who had lost them, quiet delight as the sunlight glinted off the ring on my finger and reminded me of what was coming, guilt that I was going on living when other people had ceased to be.

I turned my attention as best I could to the service as it continued. We sang a couple of hymns chosen by the family throughout the service and I found myself crying even though I did not know him. My eyes burned and I kept my gaze low. I did not know him, but there was something about the grief of others that reminded me of my own.

Serge squeezed my hand and I clasped his more firmly in response. My heart ached for him.

Finally, it was over and the casket was taken to the graveyard. Not everyone who attended the service followed to the internment, but Serge had to go, because he was the leader and commander, and I had to go because I went where Serge went.

I stayed back a bit, because I felt out of place. All these people had known the poor man and I was just a stranger. I was glad when it was over and we made our way back to the community center hall.

I was glad when Serge finally extracted us from the crowd of mourners. We went home and I lay on my bed full of fear and nothing else I could identify.