Ava
The crackling flames began to lick hungrily at the bottom of the pyre. Smoke billowed around us, the scent of burning oak and sage thick in the air. My eyes stung, but I blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
Today, on this beautiful, sunny, warm day, our dear Degas would leave this world. In just a few short hours, his pyre would burn away his flesh and bones. According to werewolf culture, he would join the Moon Goddess in her private court in another realm, the place where all Elders were said to go.
But on the outside, it was just a funeral. A chance to say goodbye. An attempt to make ourselves feel better about the fact that none of us would ever, ever see him again.
Beside me, Beatrice stepped forward. She had a small box containing her father’s most prized pos
