So, the guilty think they got away with it? With a grimace, Salor let that thought circle inside and flow through him. With his blood thinning, he felt a slow boil of fury growing inside. He took deep breaths to rapidly separate his emotions and concentrate on the task. He would find the murderer of King Gidreon. 

He solemnly gazed, searching for the green distant hills that rolled away from their property line, just beyond the small glade of trees. His wife’s hundreds of stringed trinkets, offerings to the woodland nymphs, and her self-promised gifts made to affirm her hopes, swayed in synchronized motion as the breeze wove its way between the limbs and leaves. The trinkets flickered like reflected stars as they twisted and angled the last light of the evening hours. He didn’t remember ever telling her outright, but he was just deluding himself. She knew the sight and sounds she’d fashioned in the small back area of their property were a veil for those who visited to step through into a peaceful paradise. One that helped him heal and find the time spent within a silent and powerful gift where he had made so many important decisions over the years. The design soothed him, a realm of natural calm. By consciously recognizing his need for that support, he opened himself up to find his center and certainty.

Years before his injury, he mentally constructed a neat and organized pocket of space in his mind, allowing him to push all his scattered rocks of regret into it. Various sizes and shapes, some hard like flint, others rough concrete, and all with sharp edges. Each rock represented a disappointment, a mistake, or a chance blunder that held deep significance. While going about his life, he periodically cleaned out and examined each one to avoid making those same mistakes. In finding that balance of trusting himself once more, he would shove it all back in.
After his injury, the small list tucked inside him grew bigger. It grew a lot. Like a landslide of rocks, all the things he felt he failed at, all the moments he lost, and all the possibilities he would never reach poured into its depths. His self-confidence took a beating. The invisible weight slowed his thoughts down, making every decision difficult. While enduring the mental onslaught, his shoulders and back bore the weight of the tension, causing him to become increasingly exhausted. It was a sad excuse, that intense pressure. It was hard to think clearly, and he would mentally stumble or lose his sharp thoughts on the dull grind of uncertainty. Despite his best efforts to move forward, for his wife and children, and his brother as the new protectorate, and even for himself, the burdens of his regrets were a constant reminder of mistrust in himself.

The self-questioning and unnatural hesitancy that formed from his fears affected his body and mind, as well as his spirit. Had it not been for his dearest Yilta and her mental word-smith skills, subtly bringing his broken soul back into the light with agonizing pushes and pulls, he could have plummeted into a darkness of such despair that he may not have found his way out. Shasis and Spirito were also there, reminding him of how to laugh once more. Even he realized how long it had actually been since he had an opportunity to fully release laughter, one that made him weak from the strength of its power. As he slowly transitioned into true fatherhood, away from the protectorate role, he found his new purpose once more. 

Holding bitter memories, the cost of that transition was unforgettable. Now, he realized he had been holding on to a false identity. Despite having a careless moment, he was not receiving his just desserts. The turn of events was not an unavoidable error of fate, one that cast him into a world of agony and crushing failure. His own arrogance did not make him guilty. Feeling like a lone wolf who strayed from the pack and lost its way, he realized that the guilt persecuting him was not valid. He didn’t miss a crucial scent, a vital clue that would have kept him on the right path. And he hadn’t needed to roam a wilderness alone, gnawing at his mistake like a persistent ache. The guilt was like an invisible predator, lurking inside, causing him to tense up and be on edge, never allowing him to feel truly safe or at ease. But the tightness in his chest was easing, the restlessness in his paws subsiding. The night was peaceful once again. 

He noticed the lightness of self-forgiveness when today arrived. Today, he is still the man he became for his loved ones, and he kept that in his heart, knowing it was the best part of him. Despite the circumstances, the wolf persisted in scratching at his door. Relentless, he had a fierce burning hunger in his eyes and a growl that would resonate through the land if released. It would remind everyone of the wrongs done to him and his own. A rising desire to get revenge was a primal and consuming demand. His inner fire threatened to bring chaos and destruction. This mistake is going to cost someone. By whatever means necessary, he would salvage his daughter and brothers’ marred positions. He would protect his rising son’s potential. With determination, he would loosen the grip of animosity toward them all. A hunter’s pursuit to find and punish the guilty would drag them into the light. 

As he acknowledged his upset and riled state, the breeze blew through his hair and tousled his now-standing ruff. He ran an open paw over his head and neck to press down the unsettled fur and bring order. Now that the truth was uncovered, he would take on the role of the hunter and carefully examine the evidence to piece the puzzle together. With an acute sense and determination, the closer he got, the stronger the scent would become, leading straight to the guilty party. 

After carefully tucking his emotions away, he focused on planning.

****

Attentively listening, Yilta used her inner ear to hear Salor as he listed his plan to uncover and reveal the King slayers he had yet to find. Mostly she noted her husband’s new and upright posture and the crisp movements he made as she spoke. He transformed his entire bearing. He exuded more confidence in his actions, and his keenly focused brain was evident behind those eyes. She couldn’t hold back her grin if she tried.

“What are you grinning at, woman?” Salor growled and felt the pepper and salt whiskers of his muzzle flatten.

I am enjoying the breath of the new life I see in you, which brings me joy. It has been hiding for a while.” Yilta crossed her paws in her lap and nodded her head. “Please continue.”

With a head shake, Salor reached up to scratch his nose. He resumed his conversation after a brief moment. “We will need to inform the king. I’m going to leave that to Oberian, though. He has his own rapport with King Nadiue. I trust him to explain the various aspects of such news and to confirm an investigation is taking place. Shasis will capture all the data, and I’m going to review the videos before, during, and after the events with a fine-tooth comb. Hopefully, I can analyze the crime, identify the potential suspects, and, between the three of us, trace any movements that took place. 

“For guidance, talk to the doctor. If the King died under his care, he would be just as motivated as you are to find the culprits.

Salor nodded. “Yes, I believe I will want to re-question the attendings. And find that ship’s captain. I’m going to request King Nadiue to grant me an investigation pass. That will provide some authority.” Salor looked at Yilta and his ears twitched. He scratched his nose and gave her a small smile as if apologizing in advance. “I am going to join the Dodgewood Club.” He watched Yilta’s brow ridge rise. The two-hundred-year fraternity, formed from retired military, security, and aged guardsmen, focused on supporting issues related to the privacy and civil liberties of those types of individuals. The protectorate was included, if they’d ever deemed to join. But Salor knew of only one individual who embraced the group, and he, from a previous century and a different lifetime, did not have any relation.

“I thought that was the “Iwouldntjointhatbunchofstickbouncers” group that you’ve denounced since you left the protectorate.”

Salor ducked his head, knowing she would remember his prideful statement, the one he’d given her when she suggested the club. “I was possibly wrong. However, I think they’d be mighty interested in knowing about the deliberate attack on a protectorate. No less the possibility of the King being killed.” He knew the group was a bunch of aged frontline activists who kept abreast of the latest movements in the royalty. “I’ll have to keep that part quiet, but I thought I heard something about them rising to criticize some politicos not long after I got out of the hospital. I think I could use some help.”

Yilta nodded. “I think you are right.” Her voice held an odd tone.

Salor found her gaze and realized her eyes had gone flint hard and were glaring with as much anger as he held inside. He reached out and for once, held her hand to calm her down.