The days stretched and stretched for him. Sitting on a crest of a hill, Rolfe was staring ahead in the horizon, as dawn filled its golden light over the meadows and pines and firs. The ice crystals hanging on their branches and twigs glinted off the sunlight's soft glow. It had been three weeks since he had returned to Galahar. Three weeks without his mate, and now he was on the verge of gloom that stretched as far as he could look into the horizon.
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