Bramblepoint The Parting Glass

She dug and she pushed and she dragged the earth to seal the tomb as he had asked her, but she took all the time she felt she needed to do it. That meant that she would stop and stare mournfully at her surroundings, or pace and clench her jaw whenever she felt as though she was about to unravel at the seams. It was slow going at best, and just as she was about to hold true to the promise she’d made, she stopped before it was complete. With a heartfelt whine, she laid down directly in front of where the entrance had been and buried her nose between her slender forepaws. The sun beamed down on her and her dark as pitch fur shone burnished blue by its rays. She couldn’t have known how long she stayed there, sick with grief.

She eventually drifted off and dreamed fitfully and vividly, first that she knew he was dead but that she was somehow able to speak with him anyway. Next, she was convinced that he was alive in her beautiful dream world as they patrolled the borders of their home together, passing digs at each other relentlessly. She woke with a start from this dream feeling that he must be alive, forgetting all about the tomb and the murderer and Peregrine’s wrath. When she realized her mistake, that all of it had been real and it had been her dream that was false, she broke down and sobbed fiercely, overwhelmed by emotional whiplash. Minutes later, she curled up in a tight little ball and buried her nose again, wracked by sadness and too exhausted to go anywhere even if she had wanted to. Nothing was stopping her now, but she stayed.

She woke once more just before slipping into a deeper sleep, disoriented and blinking heavy eyelids, but this time seeing the world around her for what it was. She had heard something, though — coughing. She felt downright cheated by her own mind, and yet… this was fucking stupid. He hadn’t even been dead yet when she’d fulfilled his last wish, so with a careful sort of fury, she undid what she had done, trying her best to remove as much of the loose earth as she could without shoving it in on top of him. She had to verify. Even if she did it only for him to spew a dying sneeze straight in her eyeball, she still had to know. What would it matter if he opened his eyes for one last instant only to see that she hadn’t done what he’d asked?