The Edmond den was unusually quiet for midmorning. Not the kind of quiet that came from exhaustion, but the kind that felt intentional \u2014 like the air itself knew not to speak out of turn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No one had touched an instrument since the pack got back from Europe. The stage gear was still in the bus cargo bay, untouched. Thane had polished his console rack twice out of habit. Gabriel had, somehow, not set anything on fire in over twenty-four hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The silence settled over them like fog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane stood barepaw in the grass just off the back steps, arms crossed, eyes locked on the idling black tour bus in front of the den. He didn\u2019t hear Mark come up behind him \u2014 just felt his presence, steady and solid as always.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking,\u201d Thane said quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark made a soft grunt in reply. He didn\u2019t push. That was how they worked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane\u2019s claws twitched slightly. \u201cWe\u2019ve been to Gabriel\u2019s past. I\u2019ve stood on Cape Cod sand. Watched Jonah in Florida chaos. But we haven\u2019t gone back for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark\u2019s posture didn\u2019t shift, but something in the air did. Tighter. Closer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want to see where your story started,\u201d Thane continued. \u201cAnd where it ended, for them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark didn\u2019t speak, but Thane could see it \u2014 just under the surface, the stormclouds gathering behind those dark brown eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not asking for the whole story. Just\u2026 a chance to honor it. With you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A long moment passed. Then Mark\u2019s shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThen we go to Titusville,\u201d he said, voice like gravel and sorrow. \u201cand then, we stop in Erie. That\u2019s where they\u2019re buried.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By early afternoon, the bus was rolling north. No fanfare. No livestreams. No mentions to the press. Just the pack and the hum of the diesel engine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Diesel had his favorite flannel shirt on and a travel mug clutched in one hand as he handled the wheel with practiced ease, sunglasses perched low on his nose. He didn\u2019t say much \u2014 just gave a small nod when Thane told him where they were going. That was enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel dozed in a booth near the front, curled against the window with an empty coffee mug clutched in both paws. Maya sat cross-legged on the floor with her headphones in, nodding to a silent beat. Jonah was fiddling with a broken cymbal stand, muttering, \u201cIt\u2019s gonna live, dammit.\u201d Rico quietly played chords on a travel guitar in the back lounge, just enough to fill the air with something soft.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cassie watched out the window, eyes a little red. She knew better than to ask Mark questions right now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane rode shotgun, watching the road and occasionally glancing back at the rest of the pack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark stood for most of the ride. He wasn\u2019t pacing \u2014 just shifting from spot to spot. Sometimes at the front, sometimes at the back, sometimes watching out the side door window like he was looking for something long gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the terrain changed and the greenery of Pennsylvania began to rise up around them, he finally settled in beside Thane, arms folded, gaze heavy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cChurch is still standing,\u201d Mark said after a long silence. \u201cEmanuel Lutheran. My dad served there seven years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thane glanced at him. \u201cYou want to stop?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mark nodded once. \u201cI think I need to. Just for a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the stained-glass windows of the old church, casting jewel-toned shadows across the lawn. The bus pulled into a small gravel lot tucked behind a community center that had seen better days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The building itself was modest but proud \u2014 white-painted siding, a tall, pointed steeple, and a wooden sign with weathered gold lettering that still read Emanuel Lutheran Church.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mark stepped off the bus and froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Thane was behind him instantly but didn\u2019t speak. He just stood beside his old friend, watching the emotions pass behind that hardened face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mark\u2019s claws twitched. \u201cHe gave them everything,\u201d he murmured. \u201cEvery sermon, every hospital visit, every single Sunday. Rain or shine. He buried their dead. Married their kids. Showed up in the middle of the night with soup and prayers when someone got sick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Thane didn\u2019t speak. Just listened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mark\u2019s jaw set. \u201cAnd then\u2026 one day, the board called him in. Said he was being let go. Just like that. It wasn\u2019t his sermons. It wasn\u2019t the people. Just\u2026 politics, maybe. Power plays. No one ever told him why.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He walked toward the front steps of the church. The doors were locked, but he placed a hand on them anyway, claws clicking softly against the wood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe never preached the same again. He never said a bitter word, either. He just\u2026 came home and sat in the kitchen with Mom. In silence.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mark turned to face the pack, who had hung back near the bus, quietly giving space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy dad was the most faithful man I ever knew,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd that place broke him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He stepped back, exhaled slowly, and turned to Thane.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut it doesn\u2019t get the last word.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Thane nodded. \u201cNo. It doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mark looked toward the horizon. \u201cThey\u2019re waiting for us in Erie.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Edmond den was unusually quiet for midmorning. Not the kind of quiet that came from exhaustion, but the kind that felt intentional \u2014 like the air itself knew not to speak out of turn. No one had touched an instrument since the pack got back from Europe. The stage gear was still in the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1979","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-tour-life"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1979","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1979"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1979\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2964,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1979\/revisions\/2964"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1979"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1979"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/tourblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1979"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}