A Month Later...
"The only logical way forward is to tender a formal apology to the werewolves," one elderly wolf suggested.
"I don't think that's necessary at all," another countered. "Yes, Crane pinned a heinous thing on them eight years ago. We all know that now. But let's be honest with ourselves, the werewolves are a suspicious lot at the best of times. Why should we bend our knees to them?"
They were gathered in the council hall, the elder wolves seated around the great table, debating Crane's crimes. Crimes which Derek had finally laid bare before them, after weeks of gathering gruelling, painstaking evidence against his uncle. The truth was out now. There was no putting it back.
After four long weeks of emotional numbness and grief, Derek had forced himself to start functioning again. He had thrown himself headfirst back into the work, into duty and council and strategy, anything at all to keep from feeling the ache that had taken up permanent residence in his chest.
