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Fifty years was old for a mere human, but for wolves that was equivalent to a human in their late teens. He had been one hundred when he had lost her.

His mate.

The battle was won but the war was lost. If he could go back, there were so many things he would change. That he would do differently.

Every night he spent thinking about his mate. Every night for the last fifty years.

The moon goddess had blessed him with the most perfect woman and then ripped her away. Things had been so good. So, calm until that damned war broke loose. Some stupid pack wanting to rank higher by tearing down the highest rank, starting with his father.

They burned his homes, his pack. Most of his pack had survived, but that day fifty years ago, the pack lost their Luna. The world seemed grey to him, but the pack moved on. Every year they celebrated her life, they mourned, then they went back to their own families.

But who did he have to go back to?

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