The weather is gelid and unemotional, just like his mood. Naïve fools coated in feathers fraternize with the elegant long necks. They peck at the ground rhythmically as he paddles alone near the edge. The fish nibble at his pads, he ignores the annoying pests as he is too distracted by the pain.

The pain has branched from his heart to his limbs. He is incapable of meaningful movement. His sight is blinded by the memory of his fallen loved one. Their relationship short, but their love eternal. He cannot break their bond or lose her memory.

The bitter cold begins to convert the water from liquid to solid. Each night he remains alone on the pond as his flock escapes the vulnerable hunting ground for a safer haven. He suffers in solitude as the layer of ice grows thicker and thicker.

He does not falter as the predators linger near the edge of the pond. The ice is too thin to pursue him so they wait. Food is scarce and they are desperate. One meat-eater attempts to cross the too thin ice only to fall through and drown. Death and dying has no fear in the face of hunger.

Each night the hunt is present. Their nostrils filled with his perfume of vulnerability and pumping blood. His heart remains constant; it does not beat off path despite his hunter’s closeness. His anxiety is not towards the predators but towards their extended incapability of killing him. His wait for death is near as the pond water becomes thicker than a scab over a two-inch wound. He remains motionless, basking in his sorrow.

The anticipation of his death wards off the pain caused by the loss he feels of his lifelong mate, this is why he doesn’t wander into enemy lines. Nature allows him to take time to reflect on his life with her. His six children have fled north for the winter, they are his pride but they no longer need him.
The pond has developed a sustainable layer. He knows that tonight he will be sacrificed to fill those mongrels bellies, which have been shrunk from starvation. His liver will provide mind clarity and his heart will forge muscle strength so that they can pursue other food. The flock has departed to safety and he is stranded surrounded by ravenous beasts that are here to put him out of his misery.

He remembers her death clearly. They were feeding on rock salt on the road. Cars passed by slowly aware of their presence. Prior to sunset the meat-eater appeared early and unprecedented. They were spooked and attempted to escape. He flew away and believed she was behind him. When he looked back she was already being dragged away by the yellow-eyed murderer with the four white paws splattered with blood.

He hears the footsteps. They are hesitant and cautious of the ice on top of the death water as they make their way towards him. One gets confidant and goes ahead of the others too frightened of death despite their desperate hunger. He recognizes this egotistical wolf. The four white paws, white as snow and the eyes, yellower than the sun. The wolf's stare burns through him as he is approached by the source of his misery.

The wolf takes two steps and is now within one foot of him. The wolf could easily swipe him dead from there but he doesn’t as a loud crack echoes through the surroundings encasing them in unexpected terror. The ice cannot support the weight of the five wolves and beings to waiver. Shallow lines that look like purposeful beak marks form a large circle. As the wolves attempt to escape the ice the circle caves taking with it the predators.
He fly’s off and watches from the road as they drown in the hallucinating water. One wolf manages to claw his way out and shakes off the teardrops. He looks back at the goose sitting on the road with his yellow eyes and growls from the distance. He defies his instincts to pursue the webbed murderer.

The goose may desire death but his desire to avenger hers is stronger. No more mates will be separated. He will do everything he can to prevent them from feeling the pain that has devoured him.