(A Day Of Farewells.) Moonstruck's body had been carried home by the wolves. All around them, lightning flashed, thunder roared and Mala wept for the daughter of the soil. Softening the earth with her tears so that the grave would be easy to dig. Lucinda had sent back word with a small wolf, around ten years old, who came through the cornfield in jeans cut off at the knees, a fade brown t'shirt and kinky black hair. The boy's chocolate toned body stood at the door that was left open all night. The sun was coming up on their sorrow, fighting it's way through the drizzling rain. The boy, drenched from head to toe, stared around at the blood in the living room. He saw the occupants of the room with watery eyes of disbelief, turned towards his presence. The group had sat in chairs and had not moved since Moonstruck's body had left the Bloomfield's house. Nothing had been touched, nothing cleaned up and the boy, though young, also felt the blow of this heavy grief. He cle
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