The old wolf stumbled his way towards his bedroom, cane in one paw, the candle in the other. His joints ached from the storm that raged outside. His caretaker was already snoozing in their room by the sound of muffled snoring nearby. The old man looked out the window at the end of the hall to see his farmstead lit by the lightning in the distance. His scarecrow scowling up at him with sinister intent. He glared down at him, in their continued duel to the death. With a lull in the intensity of rainfall he could hear the crackling of the fireplace within his room. He thought it was odd, as his caretaker had never lit it before. As he stood in front of the door, pondering, the knob turned and the door gently swung open.
    The old wolf would have dropped his candle if it weren't for the swift hand of his old friend. A human, dark suit, pale skin and looking not a day older than when they had last seen each other, so many years ago. The man smiled at the old wolf, taking the candle from him and setting it down at his desk. The man helped the old wolf to his seat beside the fire. There was a set of steaming cups of tea laid out on a table between his chair and a new one that the man must have brought with him.
    “Thank you." The old wolf said.
    The human sat himself at the other chair, “It's good to see you again." He then took a sip of tea.
    “What brings you to my home, Edgar?" The old wolf took the other cup, sniffing the drink. It's scent brought with it memories of times long past.
    “I came here to ask you a question."
    The wolf nodded sagely, “What do you want to know?"
    Edgar lowered his cup to his lap, “Are you afraid of dying?"
    The wolf let out a chuckle, “I don't fear much at my age. You ought to try it."
    A sly smirk spread across Edgar's face, “I respect your decision to grow so old." He took another sip of his tea, “But I must decline."
    “Did you come here to gloat, Edgar?" The old wolf scowled.
    The man shook his head, “I wasn't expecting you to have given up this late in the game."
    The old wolf sighed, “There's more to living than being afraid."
    “Without fear there is no thrill of living." The man grinned.
    “Maybe I felt the same when I was young." He took another sip of the tea, “But I've learned how to be at peace."
    “Your old age has affected you." The man set his cup on the table, “I can make you young again."
    With a heavy sigh, the old wolf placed his cup down, leaning over, “And what if I refuse?"
    “You won't get another chance after tonight." The man frowned.
    The old wolf nodded, “So, tonight's the night."
    The man nodded solemnly, “Afraid so."
    The old wolf sat back in his chair to think.
    “You don't have to."
    The old wolf shook his head, “I knew this night was coming."
    “And you are just okay with it?" Edgar asked, throwing his arms up.
    The old wolf nodded, “My wife died some months back. My children are all grown and tending our farm. There is nothing left I want to do here."
    “I can go back, save your wife. Then you can come with me."
    The wolf slammed in fist onto his hip, “No, Edgar!" He almost growled, “Don't play with lives like this is some game."
    “I'm sorry." He frowned, “I just don't understand why you would choose to die."
    “Because if it is my time to go, than I accept it."
    “You don't have to." He spoke softly
    The wolf looked over his old friend, he was infinite in years, but still had some childlike sensibilities. For a moment he felt pity for the old god. Every time their paths crossed, Edgar seemed like a child lost in the dark, abandoned. There was a moment of silence as the old wolf worked in his head what he should say.
    “Edgar, why do you want me alive?"
    The human shrugged weakly, “You were always one of my only friends."
    “We haven't spoken in decades.."
    “I could go back and change that. Maybe then-"
    “The fact that you haven't already means I convince you otherwise."
    Edgar seemed to have more to say, but slumped a bit instead, “Yeah.. You're right."
    “Take my books, give them to some promising replacement." The wolf smiled, “Besides, hundreds of years from now you'll have forgotten my name." He chuckled, “If you haven't already."
    “You were born sixty-eight years, five months, two weeks, seven days, eight hours and forty-five seconds ago downstairs in what is now the kitchen. Your mother gave you your name five minutes later when she'd regained her breath a little."
    “Do you think she was afraid of dying in that moment?" The wolf asked.
    Edgar shrugged, “The likelihood was high that she or you would have died."
    “And yet?"
    “Living in the moment isn't for everyone."
    “Moments are all some of us have."
    “What do those moments mean if you're dead?"
    “Would those moments mean as much if I lived forever?"
    Edgar shrugged, “I don't really know. I don't like thinking about what happens after."
    “Is that why you are afraid?"
    “The fear keeps me alive."
    “But that same fear keeps you from living."
    “This.." Edgar's voice cracked, “This is all I know."
    “I'm sorry, Edgar." The old wolf looked over at his friend. He'd never seen him distraught before, never moving an inch from his stoic appearance.
    “No, I'm sorry." Edgar sighed, “You're right. I'm just not good at saying goodbye."
    “Could you do something for me, call it a dying man's last wish."
    “Of course., anything."
    “Take some time to enjoy something. There's more to life than running from death."
    Edgar smiled, “I will try my best. Anything else?"
    “If you can, you could help me to bed." The old wolf extended his hand.
    Edgar stood up and took the frail paw. Carefully, he helped the wolf stand up and walked him to his final resting place. He tucked the old wolf in, making sure to lay him comfortably. As the old wolf closed his eyes Edge gave his a gentle pet and kissed his head.
    “Goodbye old friend."