Neverwinter Forest this emptiness won't fade

Kjalarr's breath was uneven, heavy with the burden and words he'd spoken and all the what if's associated with it. If only he'd have taken Whittier on patrol with him ...but he allowed himself the small allowance that perhaps it wouldn't have made a difference. Kjalarr believed in the Norns — in fate and that their lives were already decided for them. Perhaps their choices changed things slightly but the end result always was the same. “He'd joined the pack I co-lead a few weeks ago,” Kjalarr informed Allure, feeling his words and breath catch in his throat when Scimitar joined the scene. This was hard, Kjalarr realized. Possibly the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his short life. Whittier's death was Kjalarr's first experience with it — having been too young to have been truly affected by Ragnar's.

“I-” Kjalarr swallowed thickly, albeit with some difficultly and forced himself to look at his father. “Whittier's ...he's gone.” Gone sounded better than 'dead', though it was what it was. Whittier was not coming back from it and there wasn't anything Kjalarr could do to change it, no matter how hard he wished he could. “He joined the pack I co-lead a few weeks ago,” Kjalarr repeated what he'd told Allure for Scimitar. “I don't know what happened exactly. All I know is that I found his body washed up on the shore.” Kjalarr assumed that he'd drowned for there had been no visible wounds to give him evidence of otherwise. “I should have made him run patrols with me that morning — I should have... — I'm sorry I failed to keep him safe.” Because he'd failed. Because it was his fault.