Reconnaissance

Almost as quickly as their tempers had blazed to life did the reality of the state within his abandoned den splash cool water on them. Her words of defiance, her jab at his care of himself, the fury that he would force her out of sight fall on his deaf ears. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his massive form trembling with the effort to contain the storm of emotions within him. He was so focused on taking in the scene. Brows furrowing in response to his name, trying to rip his gaze away and back to those lifesaving orbs of hers. But he can’t. It’s all he can do not to start tearing off into the forest, to look for another fight to occupy his mind. But this was his home, his workplace. His passion, strewn about the cold floors. Discarded and neglected.

He looked back at her, his emerald eyes filled with a raw, desperate plea. His haunted gaze was drawn away, settling carefully on the decaying puddle that Sephiran had left behind. “I have lost patients before. I have seen death, enough blood to paint all my memories red, but as a healer… as a warrior too, I was never meant to freeze. Never meant to be so shocked that I stood idly by.” The vulnerability in his voice was a stark contrast to the fierce, commanding presence he usually held. He stepped closer to her, his massive frame trembling, and pressed his forehead against hers, seeking comfort in her closeness.

“I want you to leave, not because I do not want you here, but because I would never recover if the same fate befell you.” He murmured, his face contorting into a grimace as he very briefly imagined it.

The den’s cold air seemed to amplify every emotion, every edge of his ragged mental state. He could still smell the metallic scent of blood lingering in his nostrils, the paralyzing grip of it that had rendered him useless in her final moments. “But I am filled with so much hate. I did not know I would be… so affected by what happened that night. I do not know what it was. I need to know why I cannot settle my mind. Was it how he did it? The knife? How he cursed at her while he killed her? How crazed he was, daring to cry for what he was doing to her? Her helpless tears? Or the children crying at his feet while he did it?” His massive paws clenched into the dirt, his claws digging deep as if to anchor himself to the present, to prevent himself from being swept away by the tide of guilt and regret.

His gaze finally dropped to the ground, his shoulders sagging instead of rolled forward in dominance like moments ago. “I thought that if I could come back here, I could clean up, and set everything back to its rightful place.” And maybe he would go back to normal as well.

His body shivered as if the memories were physically assaulting him, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Look at it. Everything I thought I was, or that I had become; reduced to this. It is so laughable.” His voice was low and bitter, barely more than a harsh whisper. “I am nothing but a boy, plagued by memories forced upon me, playing pretend when I have no business dealing with lives if I am so resentful of my own.”