Neverwinter Forest the death of pablo

Woot, thanks both!

It would have been a fitful rest, but Goldhawk had been out like a light. It sounded mushy to say so, but Kyron's concern was more comforting than his fur. He'd made a new friend in this male who looked so much like himself, and had not expected such a development — but then, nor had he expected to lose his spirit the way he had. Goldhawk had been holding out too long for a space in Donnelaith, and had made the mistake of camping out in a cave prone to dampness, and these two factors together would have resulted in his death if it weren't for Kyron. The chap had saved his life. Goldhawk had been humiliated to be seen in the most pitiful state of his life, but perhaps it would do him good in the end. The funny-accented Kyron was bringing him back from the brink in more ways that one.

Today they were headed for a fledgeling pack where Goldhawk might find some much-needed sanctuary. The cold had injured him. While an interrupted sleep and the warmth of his new companion had done him the world of good, his limbs were still painfully stiff and one of his hind paws had been so frostbitten he had a temporary limp. His fur, normally magnificently groomed, was dishevelled. He was not in a good state to be selling himself to a new Lord or Lady, but it was either this or die.

He had come to realise that Kyron was actually a rather cuddly sort, as further evidenced by his warm reaction to the lovely maiden they soon saw before them. Hm? Ah yes, the normally-elegant Goldhawk reacted to Kyron's pointed nudge, and lowered his weary head. He didn't have the strength for his usual flamboyance. Nor for his usual (extreme) talkativeness. For the first time in his life, he shut up and let others do the nattering.

If all went well, that would change soon enough.