He never asked why. He just did. 🐾 The air got thin up there. Cold. Bear felt it before any of us did. He went rigid. The low rumble in his chest wasn't a warning. It was a final report. He looked back at me. Just once. And then he was gone. A blur of motion toward a sound I hadn't even processed yet. That was a lifetime ago. Or maybe it was yesterday. Now my hand rests on wood, not fur. It’s too smooth. Too still. The scent of pine and dust is gone, replaced by funeral flowers. They smell like

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