Bramblepoint The Parting Glass

The hope that Sassafras had made Shrike sad. He had no hope for himself- his insides were telling him to curl up in that very burrow and send her away so he could rest peacefully. He felt ill to the point where he felt even passing unconscious would be better than suffering, despite what could happen to him if Sassafras left him there alone. He coughed and writhed slightly, shortly after her comment, and said nothing to contradict her. Instead, he waited a few moments, before he shrank slightly back inside the burrow, just a bit more. The sun still shone on his head and shoulders, but the rest of him was blanketed in shade and he could feel the edge of the murderer's corpse against his tail in the back of the small den. 

"Need a favour." He said. His eyes were foggy and though he could make her out, her slim, dark shape seemed to waver this way and that, leading his gaze astray constantly. He looked as though he was aboard a ship and trying desparately to keep a bead on a fixed point on the horizon while the boat was tossed about on the waves. "Gotta swear it." He said, rough voice as steely as he could make it.