Patience is a pillar of faith

Hz Umar ibn al-Khattab (RA)

Altan Hussan was old. Older than he should be. Allah had blessed him with a long life, but to Altan, it was not a blessing to Altan, but a curse. His soul was broken and tattered, pulled apart by loss and grief and age. He could not find it in his heart to live much longer.

Which is why Rhys Edevane left him be when Altan came ten years ago to die, his own son would not end his misery so he sought it elsewhere. Damned man was all too smug about the whole idea, keeping Altan alive because he was useful. Altan tried his best not to be useful, in spite.

“You’re grumpin’ ‘round ‘gain, Al.” Emilia Attenburg, soon to be Edevane if she ever said yes to Rhys’ proposal, said. Her accent was abysmal as always, how that fool of an Alpha could find it arousing was beyond Altan’s comprehension.

“I am not ‘grumpin’ ‘round ‘gain’ Emilia. I am fine, thank you.” Altan shot back, almost clipping a blooming rosebud instead of the dead leaf he was aiming for.

“Now, I might not be as good as you or Charles at sniffin’ out lies and whatnot, but I think even I could catch even that one.” She had the sweet smile of hers, one that made him like her in the first place. The one that made him let her in. A terrible mistake really.

“I... I have been having dreams lately. Ones that disturb me.” He uttered, refusing to make eye contact with her, those whiskey eyes would break him with one glance and they both knew it. Emily hummed but said nothing more, just continued to sketch the old wolf David lying down. Paint stained hands flying across the paper, making beautiful lines and smears.

“I don’t know how to explain them.” He stepped back from his project, unwilling to continue in this foul mood. His roses deserved better.

“Start with the beginnin’, the place where you first started to understand them.” She straightened and gave her best friend her full attention. Altan was pale, or as pale as a Turk posing as a Spaniard could be. She didn’t like it. Emily drew upon her Omega nature to soothe him, she was getting better. A full year under Altan and Andi’s tutelage made her an expert. Or as much as she could be.

“They started around nineteen years ago. I am standing in this large open space. The ground is a reddish-orange, like rust. The air is clean and dry. Large cliffs surround me, it is a desert. There are birds singing and the wind blows a scent to me. A mixture of Japanese cherry blossoms and a thunderstorm over a desert. There is a… a form in front of me. She calls to me, but I don’t understand what she says. She is so far away, but lately, she has become more clear, closer to me. I… feel at peace with her as if the wolf is gone. Almost human.” Alta’s voice was distant, black eyes clouded with confusion.

“Describe her for me,” Emily asked, tucking her legs underneath her. Altan’s black brows creased and sat back in his pruning chair.

“That’s the thing, Little Wolf, I cannot. She is too far, across that long red plain... Her eyes.”

“What about them?”

“I see them. I should not be able to see them, but I do. They are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Her eyes, they sparkle, the light from the sun above us makes them look alive. The brown color is soft, the exact shade of a stolen ray of sunlight. A ring of gold hung inside her iris, adding another layer of depth to her already beautiful eyes. How can I see them, but nothing else about her?” Altan rubbed a soft petal between his death stained hands.

Someone like him should not be given such dreams. Dreams of hope. His soul burned for this woman, raged against his chest to reach her. To feel her soft flesh touch his. His wolf howled, howled the cry of separation. The cry of a lost mate. But the woman across the plains was not his Hala. Was not his lost love, his only love.

“Maybe it’s your new mate, maybe you’re havin’ dreams ‘bout her.” Emily offered. Altan must have said his last thought aloud, he didn’t mean too.

“I will not have another mate, not while I am alive and she is dead,” Altan promised, eyes a burning umber, eyes of sadness and grief.

“Al, it’s time to move on. It’s ‘bout time you got your happy endin’.”

“Little Wolf, someone like me doesn’t get a happy ending.” He said, turning his back to her. He had had his happy ending and lost it.

People like him didn’t get a second one.