Blackfeather Woods eye of the beholder

It was with a patience in his actions that Cicero sat down and awaited Malice's presence. He licked his lips and waited patiently for her to arrive. He did not feel the urge to eat the rabbit's leg; ironically, when one ate less, eating seemed to grow more and more difficult. The feelings of hunger remained, yet he still did not think he could eat the whole thing even if he wanted to. His throat just would not budge, it was as if he was unable to further process this much food.

A narrow smile fell across Cicero's face when Malice submerged from the den. He wondered what she were to think of him, for even though he liked her, he had supported Damien's cause. Not that it would have mattered much had he refused to support Damien and Nemesis' claim. Now he just hoped that whatever outcome was best for Malice, Burke and their children, that Cicero would be able to whisper it into Damien's ear easily, and that Nemesis would not deter him from that path. She was bad news, he felt, mostly because he knew so very little about her.

At Malice's exclamation, he shook his head, silently urging her not to worry, silently conveying that he would be fine. There were days, not long ago, that he thought he might die, but it seemed that he was past that stage now. "For the children," said Cicero and he nosed the rabbit's leg forward. It was not much, but it was something. And of course he meant it was for her — so that she could feed her children. "Cicero never meant for it to happen this way." The statement did not carry much regret. Words were spoken as though he was stating cold, hard facts rather than a personal opinion. Yet the past was in the past, but the future was wide open and there were surely opportunities yet in their favour.