@Gunnar backdated a day or so before his passing <3
He was sickly. Tired.
All these things, Bonnie saw from afar. Always avoiding. Never to his face.
He was not sick.
He would be fine.
He would hunt again and lead.
As he was supposed to.
He was not sick.
But this day, he passed Gunnar's resting figure in silence, bitter and quiet and cold, but when he saw him, he- he couldn't-
He couldn't help how his tail tightened to his leg, and how his eyes did not want to stay on him, and how he lied, and oh, how bitter he was, he lied to himself again. Selfishly. Cruelly.
He was not sick.
Silence was often his bedfellow and he was often asleep. Gunnar knew he didn't have much more time before his time was up on this mortal plane. He wasn't entirely thrilled about it, but what could he do, but do what nature entailed.
Bonario would come and go, but he hadn't spoken to the elder. And Gunnar didn't push or pry. He knew it would take time to accept. IT seemed his passing was harder on those around him than he had realized it would be. Oh he had known it would be hard, but this was harder.
A soft yawn. Hello, Bonnie.
Softspoken quiet enough that should Bonnie want he could say something and if not he could also stay quiet.
All of his muscles, all at once, tense until his mind shut down to a corpse of dust. His legs curled and his waist dipped, stomach to a gross churn and his mind to a fuzz and a dizziness as his head turned. He stared, forced to take in something he never wanted to see.
Gunnar was not sick.
He was not sick.
He'd lie to himself until he couldn't.
Ripping words from his mouth was a battle he could scream at until his vocals dried and burned.
Force.
The wind felt cold.
"Hey, old man."
Bonnie was a wolf of great denial. Gunnar blamed whatever had happened to him before he'd found them
How he wished he'd have found the young man before bitterness had taken root. Or that he had morectime to emulate a good man.
A soft laugh. Are you enjoying the day?
An effort to keep it light anything heavy may scare him away. And as much as Gunnar wanted him to know he cared
He also wanted company. Company that didn't tiptoe around him as if his dying was glass.
It was soon after that he moved to be right by his side, with a hesitant sit and a slouched back. His neck hung loose, and his eyes touched Gunnar's, reverent.
"Yeah," his lips pushed out, his eyes coming to a roll as he crossed through his own thoughts. Then, they snailed their way back to Gunnar. "Caught a crow, stashed a rabbit." He fidgeted and stretched his toes repeatedly to feel the soil. Tense.
He sniffed next, his brows furrowing as he forced out his next though, "so," a pause. Then, he finalized himself to ask, "how you been feelin'?"
Gunnar met his gaze with warmth and love in his grey eyes. No judgements. No blame. This was no fault of Bonnies. It had been Gunnar who had pushed himself and Gunnar who had misspoke.
Gunnar listened. My rather used to have great reverence for ravens not crows. But you just reminded me. He said they were Odins messengers.
I am alright. Tired and weak, but I am an old man.