Dutiron knew it was coming, the end was close now. His body had weakened, thinning to an unhealthy stage the illness wearing away his body and his mind. Memory was intact of course, though he was quiet even for the wise, old man and a part of him still visibly broken from the news that he had lost his sister. He had mourned her and in doing so certainly not helped his own state in any way at all. He'd lost track of the days and only the chill of the weather told him that somehow they'd ended up in Winter and right at the start he'd had the sinking suspicion that he wouldn't make it through to Spring.
Novel he had hoped would recover, to pull through and enjoy life with their children, though it broke the poor man even more to know that she was fairing just as badly as he was. However much they tried to hide the fact, there was no denying that it seemed only a miracle would heal them from this illness and even if they did recover, with a weakened immune system from the plights of this sickness, it probably wouldn't be long before they caught something else, providing of course they hadn't already.
Was it morning now? He wasn't sure though from what he could tell the light outside of the den seemed to be going brighter. Ironic really, the whole 'stay away from the light thing' and in two ways than one the weary man could feel it beckoning him. He was tempted, to give in, venture outside to see another sunrise though weak he wasn't sure he could drag himself outside.
There was a far better sight to behold though, a face that had always made him happy and his mismatched eyes would fall upon it now. Never once had he stopped loving Novel and though death was approaching the door, he was sure it still would never fully part them from one and other. "Novel..." He spoke ever so softly, his laboured voice now barely able to speak above a whisper.
