The talk of war had not gone unheard. Pacifica's ears rang with the words that she had heard her new king speak of, sending three warriors to Valhalla to aid in the fight...one of them being Pontifex. She had been nearby, collecting some herbs to store away in her own den to use later should she or another would need them. she thought about giving them to the healer, but for now she would collect what she could as a backup should something happen to the healers own store of herbs. At the time, she had remained in the shadows, hidden away from the king and his little meeting...though the call was loud, she had thought about responding but stopped herself upon hearing Maverick's last words to the three warriors who volunteered. Her heart had stopped when she saw Pontifex among them, offering his help. Unable to show herself at that time, she turned and fled back to Seracia and straight to her den. There she had lied down, staring at the wall of her den and turning her back on the outside world. Why though? She wasn't quite sure...though she figured it would have something to do with the way she felt about him. Since the day they met, she had felt something...though she wasn't sure if he felt anything for her. She knew she had affection for him, but she was much too shy to say anything. Perhaps if she saw him today before he left to Valhalla something would happen...or at the very least, she could ask him to be careful and ask him to come home safely. She shuddered to think that today might be the last day she'd see him...she felt that her world would come crashing down if he died in battle... The thoughts felt strange but at the same time they felt right...even though they had met not so long ago, she just couldn't bear the thought of him disappearing that way. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. At least not before finding out if he felt what she did...with a sigh, she would raise herselt and leave her den to search for him. Perhaps he would be back from the meeting with Maverick and the others...hopefully, they could have one last meeting before he left for war. She of course would remain and aid in helping the refugees, but she knew at the same time, her mind would be constantly on him. Perhaps, she could ask the king if she could go and aid in the medical field...she wanted to be sure that he would be okay. With a renewed determination, she went into the edge of the woods near her den and waited. "Speech"

He'd been a fool. A stupid, stupid fool. He should've stayed back in Seracia to guard the pack instead of running off to try and help the warriors. He was five years old now, nearing six. He was no longer in his prime. Age was beginning to catch up with him. He had never been in a serious fight in his life. The only thing remotely close to a fight was when he'd helped King Gerhardt and the ex Glaciem woman Crusade hunt down the bull that had been terrorizing Seracia. But he had had back up in that instance. He hadn't had back up in that fight; the yearling that had come to aid him was of no help. He had been a damn fool thinking he could hold his own in a fight. He was hurt now; how badly he wasn't sure. There was blood everywhere. He could feel it pouring from what felt like every pore in his body. His body was screaming at him to just give up, to lie down somewhere and allow his body to rest...maybe forever. But when that thought crossed his mind, a face appeared before his eyes; Pacifica. If he was going to die, he at least wanted to see her face one more time.


And so the injured Grand Duke had dragged himself from the battlefield towards Seracia, each step agonizing, jaws clenched tightly in order to keep from crying out. He was sure that he was leaving a bloody trail behind him, but he didn't care. He needed to get to the silver traced woman before his body gave out on him. She seemed to have been feeling the same way because he hadn't gotten even half way into Seracia when he caught her scent. It called to him, beckoned him towards her and the man could not refuse. With pained steps, Pontifex would adjust his course so that he was moving towards her, desperate golden gaze searching the foliage for the grey figure. There! Just at the edge of a line of trees she sat, seemingly waiting for someone. Pacifica! he would call out to her, his body giving out just as the last syllable left his lips. Limbs would buckle beneath the grey/black man, his mass collapsing to the ground in a heap, lids fluttering closed over his lids, his breathing becoming shallow. He was loosing too much blood.


Talk like this

It seemed days would go by. The silvery woman had remained on the borders edge, she had carved herself out a den fairly close to the border to lie in wait. Her Knight would come back home...right? She sat idly upon the border lines, waiting and searching for a hint, a sign, anything that would tell her he was coming home safe and sound. Ears were back atop her head, sky blue eyes worried as they searched endlessly for her grey paladin knight. Moments passed, her worry growing as time passed. She rose and began to pace, her brows furrowed as she thought. What if he wasn't ever coming home again? What if Glaciem had taken him away? What if...what if he died on the field of battle? All those thoughts among others sent a shiver down her spine. How cruel fate would be...to take away someone she had began to love for the first time. She felt the threatening prickle of tears edging their way to the brims of her eyes. And reluctantly she halted her pacing, coming to sit facing the borders once more. She would begin to feel hopelessness and helplessness. But she would not give up in her wait. Not unless she saw for herself, his lifeless body. "Pacifica!" Immediately her head would turn towards the familiar voice, her heart rising in hope. She knew that voice! Eyes fell upon grey warrior a moment before he collapsed. Widened eyes followed his movement to the ground, and she was on her paws in an instant. "Pontifex!" she arrived at his side in no more then a few short bursts, coming to a halt as she took in his form. Her heart pounded in his chest, eyes wide with fear and worry as she looked him over. Rapidly she lowered her body to press gently but firmly against his own, her tongue reaching out to lick his head in gentle and rapid strokes. "Pontifex, you're alive! Oh, you're wounds!" She tried so hard to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill, but the more she looked at his wounds, the blood that flowed, the trail he had left behind, she knew that his time would not last long if she didn't get the bleeding to stop. Hesitantly she tore herself away, licking his ear comfortingly before whispering. "I have herbs in my den, please Pontifex...get up..." she pleaded to him. She pressed gently against his uninjured shoulder, to soothe him upwards and against her so she could take him to her den. It was only a few yards away, she had to get him there...she had herbs, stocked the site with anything she could find while she had waited for him. She would not allow him to remain out here in this condition. Much less allow the devil to take him away from her. "Speech"