Hagar had never fully recovered from his collapse at the Lagoon. The smoke and ash continued to build in his lungs, while the cancer within his chest spread as though feeding upon the debris. It choked his heart and clogged his airways, eliminating all chances for his body to regain its strength. He could feel, deep down, what was becoming of him, and it left him numb.
He did not seek out his children, did not stay at his wife's side. Hagar wandered instead, tired eyes dazedly searching for where he would die. The wolf ended up at Avella's favorite place, beneath the tree which shaded part of the creek. For a while he'd stared upon it, imagining all the times he'd seen her there, as reliable as the sun rising and setting. Then his heart fluttered and his head felt light and he knew the minutes were coming to a close.
Hagar curled up at the base of the tree, bones that should still be strong aching as he folded them beneath him. His muzzle rested upon his paws, and consciousness drifted away. It would never return.