Cypress

Cypress has had exactly two jobs all her life. A strong chaser in her hunting party, fast and resilient despite her large build, and a foster mother to all the wayward puppies her mate, Poplar, took under his wing as the pack's head pupsitter. She was happy with her life, and would be happy to help her party take down elk and mountain goats and go back home and share her meals with her other half for the rest of time. But when Poplar died, Cypress' entire comfortably built life shattered around her. Suddenly even with hunt after hunt giving her chances to prove her skill like she used to, she could never seem to perform quite as well. She made amateur mistakes, gave her huntmates' positions away too early, forgot to watch out for obvious obstacles. Then she would get back to the pack den, wounded and disappointed, and the orphaned little puppies would be there, watched over by all the pupsitters as if nothing had ever happened, except for the one she was really looking for. She couldn't lay down and bury her nose in his fur and spill out all her problems and let the warm weight of his body comfort her while she slept, couldn't even spend time in his presence, both doing their own jobs but aware of each other in a way that she'd taken entirely too much for granted.

Even now, many moons later, Cypress hasn't stopped grieving --she doesn't really think she ever will. But she's learned to put on a brave face. She's grown closer with friends that she never really had before despite herself, and only really lets herself break down for a few minutes every day when she visits Poplar's grave.