Ocean's Breath Plateau the space between lives

morningside had given his life purpose. every day, he woke with a plan of action. patrol the borders, visit the pups, check in with dawn and pema. . . he went to bed each night having accomplished things, even if those things were small. the days blended together, but that was a good thing, then.

now, the days blended together, but for a different reason altogether. each day, govinda woke with nothing. these were not his borders, there were no pups, and dawn and pema were names from a life he would never return to. he went to bed each night having accomplished nothing--and nothing was as small as you could go. the days blended together; it was a kind of suspended torture, a dull pain.

at least there was @Izel. the woman had tended to his wounds, but it was quickly clear that she was not as open or friendly as he was (or had been, at least). he wandered the plains at a slow limp, seeking her out. the wounds had healed, but only barely, and every step was taken gingerly, lest they break open once more. he wouldn't survive, were he to bleed out again--this time, alone.

it was the space between lives, and it was as empty and yawning as anything govinda had ever experienced.