The long road

Her soft gentle whisper, telling him it was okay, that she was putting his hurt before hers, just about broke him. The days the Warlord had weeped were few and far between. Waking up alone, injured, and not knowing if she had survived was one of those times. This would be another. He closed his eyes, to keep the moisture at bay. This was his childhood friend. A wolf he had sworn to protect, who had stood by him in thick and thin. Who had come here to start anew, and had wanted to do so with him.

He had shattered her dream, when he had fallen in love with another. That wolf still held his heart, held it tightly in soft golden paws. The knowledge that in the path he had taken, he had left Deathbelle out in the cold. Hells, how it hurt.

She was holding herself still, through she winked at him, and tried to play it off as easy. He let out another soft breath. He could not recall when he had started to hold it. The scent of her was strong in the den, tantalising him. “A part of me wishes you hated me. I feel I would not hurt you so easily, then.” he whispered back. Pulling himself upright, ignoring taunt, stiff muscles, as he leaned forward and kissed her paw. A gesture as old to them as time.