A howl rose above all the others. The call was low and filled with longing, then hitched high with a pain that brought tears to my eyes as all the other howls faded. This was a song I recognized too well—the whole Pack recognized its soft, mournful tones. It was Greyson, calling to his missing mate. He howled it every few weeks—I don’t think he ever meant to. He was far too aware of his role as leader, and he typically had no patience for his mate bond.
Egads a lonely boi howls the blues
