He remembers the pain.
He remembers desperately wanting to die each time the transformation ripped through his young body. He remembers the anguished screams that were his own, which could never make it stop.
But more than the pain, he remembers the healing.
He remembers the gentle touch of hands lifting him up, the soothing voice that whispered in his ear.
"It’s all right, Remus." Fingers tilted his face, trailing lightly over his damp skin. "I’m here." Then a tender kiss, soft and sweet against his bruised lips. "I’ll always be here."
Wolves mate for life.
So do they grieve.
- fin -