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Memorial Garden
In a peaceful clearing in the forest lay the great wolves you've known.
Nettle
The pack will be fine. You can rest now. Snowdrop
I'm sorry you had to be the one. Oleander
I'm sorry. I wish the world weren't so cruel on you. | ||||||||
Harebell You were the daughter of the beginning, and the mother of the rest. You were the one who, time and time again, simply could not watch your fellow packmates face the danger alone. The scars you bear are a true testament of that. You always condemned yourself for being weak and for being unable to truly defend anyone. To say that you felt you were at blame for Carnation's death wouldn't be far from the truth... but grief doesn't make you weak, Harebell. It makes you... you. Carnation You were the one who kickstarted everything. You saw the suffering that would never cease, and you decided to do something about it. In a way, although you lost your pups, you were the mother to everyone in the pack. That can never be replaced. You spent your dying breath wondering what the other wolves would think when they saw your body and who would succeed as the harbinger of kindness. You can move on. They thank you for your compassion. No need to worry. Mistletoe You were many things, Mistletoe. I guess that's the only way to describe you. You were a fighter. You relentlessly trained and honed your body to become a weapon altogether. You were a mentor. When you saw others astray, you'd guide them back to a path where they know they wouldn't regret. You, too, were once lost. And you found your way back. You were a mother. You saw the life in your pups and fought for them. Your efforts were not in vain. | ||||||||
Oriole You were the embodiment of perseverance. You journeyed to your current pack with Osprey, while pregnant. Then you gave birth to three wonderful pups, none of whom survived to adulthood. It was then revealed that your hidden chronic illness had killed your offspring. Osprey sacrificed himself finding the herb to cure you while you were pregnant with your second litter. He succeeded, but at what cost? A cost great enough for you to become a mother again before death. | River Washing Over Stones | Sliver of Night | ||||||
Marjoram in Winter . |
You have no Red Roses to leave here.
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