She was not asleep, but instead was listening to the sound of breath in her partner's chest, her mind flicking over the life before. Strongbow would say it was not the Way, and he would be right, but for now, in their new Holt, Clearbrook felt the urge to remember without the Howl, to dwell on what was, so that she could face what would be.
She touched briefly on the loss of her parents, each in their own time. She touched against the loss of her wolf-mates, remembering each in their prime. The cutting loss of a daughter brought her into the mind of remembering that daughter's father, which was where her memory stuttered and remained.
So much she had shared with One-Eye, and so much she had wished to share further. Scouter and all his triumphs and tragedies had been brushed with the hue of looking at it through her mate's eye for so long. This was not the Way, either, and Clearbrook knew it. None of her loved ones, even the ones lost, deserved her lingering regrets.
A strong arm, stronger than ever for the task of learning how to handle a forge, tightened around her, a reminder of the now. Clearbrook smiled, closing her eyes, and let the past slip into the night of memory. She had lost, had lost herself even, in grief, but now that she had found her way, she had the future to share with a good man and with her tribe.