It was late August when Raven's soul mate lost her sight, by October she could hardly lift her head. Raven's mate, Gravity, a pretty white she-wolf, had fallen ill. Raven could recall the smell of lilac and freshly grown grass as Raven looked down on his beloved mate. Tears fell from his honey colored eyes, his black pelt was matted and dirtied, from neglect of not grooming himself. Gravity had lifted her pretty face one last time, blinked her electric blue eyes, whispered a last 'I love you' and then fell dead.
The next years were the hardest of Raven's life, and now he sat at the edge of a cliff, his charcoal black fur ruffling with the wind. He breathed in the scents. Raven was the Prince of the powerful Mandian Pack. But the land was falling into illness, much like Gravity had. The once fresh pine trees had far since yellowed, and the grass was prickly under Raven's paw pads. He breathed in the scent once more, his topaz eyes squeezed shut.
((Moved :DD ))