The Sentinels heart in hand

His thoughts swarmed in and out – lucidity seemed far in between the dreams he knew he was having, as figures of his past seemed to emerge from the tall redwoods with disgusted looks upon their features, as if witnessed the downfall of a wolf far weaker than him.
 
But he was weak.
 
Lucani was barely registered in his presence. His gaze would lift up to her, but no movement otherwise would be made. His form shuddered, fever putting itself to work as he then firmly shut his eyes from the wolves who seemingly watched him from the trees – the judgmental wolves of Tartok haunting him.. Awaiting him to die to eat the flesh from his very bones.
 
It was Deirdre that pulled him back to the living and from the hallucinations and ghosts that sought him now. Gone were the dark wolves of Tartok, and wearily gazing at his pale sister, all he could consider was that he did not wish to die before her very eyes. He did not wish to be rejoined with his family only to leave them forever.
 
“Dee,” he murmured, a haziness in his mind making his words pronounce slower. “It’s fine, Dee. Look away.” Do not watch me die.