The funeral did not last long. With the Ashwing dead, it was only a matter of time until the Shadowen came back.
Seeker did not attend. He did not see how her body was ripped and torn. He did not see the how her body was laid upon pink flowers and her wounds were licked clean. Silver was the first to notice his absence, but by that time, there was nothing she could do. He had already left.
Seeker strode into the darkness, into the fog. The Shadowen there attacked him at first, but eventually they simply watched from afar. Their red eyes gleamed through the fog.
Seeker felt his body changing, his eyes burning and his fur blackening. Maybe they did not attack because he was one of them. He scowled.
His footsteps echoed in the thick fog and the cold penetrated his coat of fur. His breath labored, exhaustion starting to take its toll from all his battles. He pretended not to notice the gouges in his ribcage, the bite marks that tore through the muscles in his front legs. Blood left a tell-tale trail through the grounded clouds. If anyone was following him, it’d be easy. Too bad he was walking to his death.
His vision was blurred by the time the ground began to shake. He paused just long enough to register a massive beast walking towards him. Within seconds a mighty head loomed above, red eyes gleaming.
In silence, the two stood, gazing darkly at one another. The beast spoke first: “You have been looking for me.”
“You killed Ashley.” Seeker forced away the tears and buried his depression with hatred and loathing. He would not cry here. He would not die like that.
“Did I?” The beast’s voice boomed and rang with laughter. “And you are going to what? Kill me?”
“I suspect not.” Seeker closed his eyes a moment, noticing how the beast’s voice also hummed within his skull. “But I will try.”
Seeker charged forward, towards the thick legs of the Shadowen King. The King began to laugh and the voices of thousands laughed around them. Tears burned the edges of Seeker’s vision. He should’ve been there. He should’ve saved her.
The battle was not heroic, nor was it narrowly won. The wolf knew he was going to his death and death waited for him expectantly, right on time. The massacre was bloody; he lost the moment fangs tore out Ashley’s throat. And it was swift. The King wasted no time in tearing Seeker in half.
But as life left his torn apart body, death permitted Seeker one last thing: to see Ashley’s face before his eyes closed.

http://the3ss.deviantart.com/gallery/48487216/Dream-Chronicles