Herbalists' Cache we are a hurricane; drop our anchors in a storm

He stopped at Aditya's no, but he did not turn. Hurt spread through his chest, warm and aching like a wound gushing blood. I can't, The words were half-whispered, choked; he meant them. A shiver spread through him, intensifying slowly and turning almost violent in the last beat before it faded.
I'm sorry. I can't. It was all he could offer the golden wolf, taking another step forward and beginning again his journey home. He did not rush; Aditya could stop him again, but he didn't expect he would. Some slim, feeble part of him hoped he might— but a larger part of him knew better, knew it was best to leave anyway. He continued on, gaze trained to the ground.