I stared at the text from my father while Serge and Doctor Fischer faded into the background, even though they were right across from me. I tried to fathom what it meant. I understood, but at the same time the words made no sense, because I did not want to believe them.

I did not want to believe, because it could not possibly be true, because in my mind, Dave was still alive. I had known him almost as far back as my memories went. He had almost been a fixture at my house, as if he had been an extension of my brother.

He was as he had always been, sitting at our kitchen table, laughing at something stupid my brother said.

It hurt to swallow. How was Sean going to deal with this? How would Terrence?

Pain welled up in my middle, raw and hard and it almost as if they pushed the moisture out of my eyes. Dave was not the first we had lost to the eastern wolves, but he was the first one that I had known so well. His parents would be devastated. I rubbed away my tears on the sleeve of my hoodie, but more kept coming to replace them.

It was not fair. We had not asked for this fight. We had done nothing wrong. How many more people would we lose before they were done with us?

They had not stopped against the Rocky Mountain wolves until those packs were no more.

Somewhere far away, I heard Doctor Fischer leave the house. Serge moved across and sat beside me again. I buried my face in his shoulder and I cried about every bad thing that had every happened to me, for every bad thing that had ever happened to us, the ones destroyed by the eastern wolves like Serge's parents and the ones stolen by the ruthlessness of the natural order, like my mother.

We had lost so much and they just kept trying to take more from us, again and again. And one day, it would be Serge or my father or my brother or Matthias, or one of the other warriors I knew, or one of the ones I did not, because they also had people who they loved and who loved them. And what about when the eastern wolves finally broke through to the second line of defense? Then it would be Moramay, or Doctor Fischer, or Tabitha, and then what if they got past that? Would it be Sebastian, or Lydia, or old Jake Tiller?

When would they stop?

When we were all like Dave?

I was shaking, but for once with the natural tremors of grief and rage. I did not feel any fear in that moment, I simply longed for justice, but I did not know how we could possibly achieve that sweet good.

* * *  *  *  *  * * *

Eventually I cried myself out and Serge helped me to my room. I slept restlessly and felt drained of everything but my ever present anxiety the next morning. The anniversary of the eighth week of my magical enslavement dawned and I went through the motions of my usual schedule with even less enthusiasm than the curse usually allowed me. I went with Serge to the pack offices, because that was what little I could do.

As the day went on, I found out that the funeral for Dave was to be set in two days. I still could not believe that he was gone, but it was somehow true.

I found out that there was to be a funeral for a pack member who had died in the fight in Serge's territory the day afterwards. I assured Serge that I would go along with him to the ceremony, how could I do anything else?

The pack member who had died was named Larry, and I was distressed to learn that he had two children under the age of five.

I learned another bit of disturbing news. Another pack member had gone missing and was presumed dead, Bobby. Some of the warriors had seen him fall on the battlefield, but there was no trace of him either living or dead.

I recognized the name, of course. He was Tabitha's boyfriend and I was certain that she was distraught. In the past, I would have gone to her to see if there was any way I could help relieve her pain, but with the curse on me I was helpless but to stay with Serge. He was weighed down enough without me further adding to his burdens.

The day passed, as time did not stop even to give time for the bereaved to grieve.

Tuesday came and went and Wednesday dawned with clear sunny skies that mocked the solemnity of the day.

I got ready as I usually did, but today I opted for a subdued outfit. I sat next to Serge at the island and we talked quietly. He was skipping work so that I could be there to lay my brother's friend to rest. I needed to be there, and he understood that with the same uncomplaining patience he always had. Jodi had planned to catch a ride to come along with us. I was glad that she would be there to support my brother.

I tried not to think about where we were going as we drove back to my father's territory. I sat in the middle again and let his proximity chase away the fear at what was to come. There was little conversation between the three of us, although Jodi and Serge at least made an attempt, useless though it was.

There was a cemetery beside a lake in our pack grounds and that was where we laid our lost ones to rest, when the weather was warm enough. Serge flawlessly navigated his truck down the road leading to the cemetery. There were already a number of vehicles parked on the side of the road, so we parked at the end and began our walk towards the lake.

Pastor Jenson was already by the casket. It was nothing fancy, the coffins we used were constructed in the territories, but it was personal and there was something good about that. My eyes scanned the crowd. Most of the people were from my pack of origins, but there were a few people from the other territories who had come to pay their respects.

I spotted my father, looking older than ever. This was not the first funeral after a battle and each one seemed to bring him a bit more low. Moramay was beside him, and Sean was on the other side of my father. He looked distraught, and for once he was not able to hide his feelings behind a brave face. I swallowed.

Jodi walked over to Sean and he talked to her and our father. I risked a glance at Serge. He looked uncomfortable and I understood why. People gave us furtive looks. I wondered if they had already heard what I had decided, or if they were speculating on the fact I was so close to him that we were almost touching.

I did not care. Dave was gone, Larry was gone, Bobby was gone. This was life and curse or no curse it was time to live it the best that I could. I ignored the low constant buzz of anxiety and reached for Serge's hand. Let them think what they would.

Maybe I had to rely on Serge for everything, but I could give him my support. At least with me he would not be alone.

Though the curse stung me with ice, I began to pull him forward, to join the group of my family. If we were going to do this, we had to face it head on.

I glanced at him and saw that he was looking at me. His expression was as solemn as I was accustomed to, but it was also soft with something as he let me lead him straight into the fray.

I did not let him go as we arrived at the group. Everyone looked at us and I forced myself to keep my head high. We all stood solemnly a few feet away from the place where Dave lay.

Pastor Jensen came to the front of the group. He still had his typical air of gentle concern, but his expression was grim as befitting the reason for his presence in my father's territory at that moment. I dared to look around the group and very few of the people raised the curse's hackles, but many of the people made my heart ache in sympathy.

The worst sight was Dave's mother. She was clutching her hands and it seemed as if the pain of her loss had stolen her vivacity. Dave's father looked little better. He was looking out across the lake as if he could not bear to acknowledge the horror of what had happened to his family.

Finally, the service began and I held onto Serge's hand the entire time. If I let the curse have me for a time I knew that this tragedy would be less raw, but the pain would still be waiting for me on the other side when I started fighting again.

And I would always have to start fighting again. I moved closer to Serge, where the curse seemed unwilling to pursue me, the one place I could find something like relief.

Pastor Jensen was speaking to the crowd, talking about the love of God and the curse on creation through the rift between God and man. I barely listened. There was the sound of someone crying quietly behind me, but I did not look because I did not want to intrude on anyone's pain. I followed Dave's father's gaze out across the water.

I was struck by the incongruence between the scene and the reality of what we were doing. The lake was almost still, the barest breeze touched the water. The trees ringing the lake reflected almost perfectly in the water, framed by the pure blue sky beyond.

Yet we were here, and this was wrong. So very wrong. Dave did not deserve this and this scene was nothing like Dave. He had been vibrant and rowdy, he liked to cause minor mayhem. He had thought he was funny and sometimes he had even been right.

And now he was lying in a cold box, never again to make another ridiculous plan with my brother, never to eat Moramay's cooking when he was over.

Now he was like my mother and so many others. Lost to us forever. There was nothing anyone could say that would be a comfort to us.

Tears burned at my eyes. I turned towards Serge and buried my face in his chest. I did not care how it looked or what anyone thought of me in that moment, the important thing was that he was there for me. I could trust him to be my rock when I was at the end of my endurance, even if it was unfair of me to put that much pressure on him.

Finally the pastor finished talking. It had felt terribly long, but in truth it had only been minutes. The pallbearers lifted the wooden box up and moved away from the edge water towards the gaping hole in the land, along with our ancestors and so many others that we had lost more recently.

Dave's family followed, then my father and our family. Serge and I trailed at the back.

The coffin was lowered and Pastor Jensen prayed over the casket. Then Dave's parents and brother threw down handfuls of earth into the whole, and then the pallbearers took over and completely filled the hole in. The grave marker would be added sometime later, after it was completed.

Slowly, people began to walk away, leaving the family in privacy. Serge began to lead me and I followed. My eyes hurt with my liquid grief. He had moisture in the corner of his eyes as well and it reminded me of how much Serge too had lost. There was no one left in the Trifecta who did not have a gaping wound of grief of some severity.

I had been reluctant when it had sounded like the leaders were thinking of becoming more offensive. The idea had worried me, but this made it all the more real to me. How much longer would we allow them to wound us, to torment us, to wear us down? Serge was right. We had to do something. We could not turn to the regular humans, we did not know where the eastern forces were based, but there had to be something we could do to avoid more things like this in the future.

Serge and I walked back to his vehicle slowly. A glance at Jodi showed that she had stayed with my brother, and that was fine with me. As annoying as his behaviour could be, I was glad he was not going to be sitting around grieving alone.

It was good he found someone to be with. I did not want the leadership of my father's territory to potentially end up on my shoulders, even if the curse was somehow removed.

Serge helped me inside the truck. We had to wait while other vehicles passed us before we could turn around and followed the queue away from the graveyard.

"Do you still want to go to the gathering?" he asked me.

"If y-you're up to it," I agreed.

"We'll go, then."

The traffic began moving faster as we got further from the graveyard and headed towards the all purpose meeting hall on our territory. The parking lot was congested, but Serge finally pulled his truck into a parking spot.

We got out and I said hello to several people I knew. Ruth was standing with a couple of her friends by the door. Her eyes were clearly red. Mine probably looked no better.

"Hey, Elise," she said as we walked past. I was glad to hear no censure in her tone, although I probably deserved it considering how terrible Matthias was probably feeling. I had not noticed him at the funeral, but I imagined he had been there. He always went when it was for fallen warriors, and he had known Dave well. I hated that I had not been there for him.

Serge and I walked through the wide double doors and we stopped at a table against a wall. I sat close to him and talked to people who approached us. I read their speculations about our relationship on their faces and I wondered if they had heard something, or perhaps it was simply the fact that I had been clinging to him during my time here.

I did not bother to illuminate them.

Dave's family finally arrived and my father got up and gave a speech about the sort of person Dave had been. My father captured Dave's essence well. Not only had he known Dave well, he was good at such speeches, but I supposed that came with the common practice of having our leader say words about those we lost, both through battle or through natural means.

The memories hurt, but there was a sort of cleansing in the pain. After my father finished, people ate and drank and mingled amongst themselves. I talked and sympathized until I could take no more and I finally whispered to Serge, "Can we leave now?"

He nodded. "Jodi will either run home or catch a ride."

We left after speaking to my family. Even my father's anger seemed lessened, probably because his attention had been drawn by all the other difficulties on his mind. I felt a twinge of guilt that he would be so worn.

Then we left and I could practically feel the considering gazes burning into our backs as we exited the meeting hall and got into Serge's truck.

It seemed things could never be easy for us, but in the midst of the maelstrom of the stress and the pain of life, Serge was becoming a rock who would support me in the storm.

I felt a sweet, painful pang of longing at the thought of him and I wondered if this was what love felt like.