King Elk Forest good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter

your posts were absolutely beautiful. <3 this is my last post here. :)

A healer was not necessary, and Cicero knew it. He had perhaps known all along their journey, but it wasn't until he had laid down here at the borders that he had realised this consciously. Or perhaps it was when he had heard that Burke was dead, and his journey was therefore in vain; the first time in his life that he remembered panic struck him, because he somehow knew he hadn't the time to solve this some other way. Normally he would have simply sought some other way. If not left, then right, if not right, then there was always some other way. Criss-cross through the forest, off the paths, if need be. But now there were no more paths to walk, for when your paws are bloody and freezing off it is hard to travel any sort of path.

Perhaps he had even known when he said farewell to Maegi, when he knew he would not return. The boys were safe, now, or as safe as he would get them. Delight offered to fetch Malice but he shook his head. "She will know once she sees the boys," he murmured thoughtfully. She would know they were his. Hopefully she would remember the absence of hatred within his actions when the rest of the pack turned on her, hopefully it would be enough to make her unfold herself over these children in some way. For Ramsay he feared the most, for his physique was a burden on his own body and on that of a pack; but as long as Euron the master mouser was by his side, surely he would be safe.

It was such a strange thought and foreign feeling to him, the worries of a fretful parent hoping their children would land safely within the world. Euron spoke, when he did, with a tone that was well known to Cicero. Not only from the boy's own mouth but his own, too; he had always been very much like Cicero, not only in appearance, but in other ways as well. The way Euron vowed some form of revenge was endearing though unnecessary to the philosopher, who'd never held any grudges over blood spilt.

He lifted his head briefly enough to say: "If you ever see Damien again, tell him..." he murmured with a tired lisp to his voice; "... Cicero will always love him." But soon his head fell again as he looked at Euron. "I am sorry I cannot walk this part of the journey with you." For he had not intended to go so soon; not really, anyway. Not consciously.

It was strange, the impact words had upon the mind when one was fading away fast. He knew that it was happening, but it was as if everything went very slow at that point. All the words spoken by Euron, understanding why Cicero had to go, most notably his last. It was as if a burden fell from his shoulders when Euron said that it was okay.

As he heard the words — You can go — his head fell slouched against the ground, almost as if Euron had uttered a command of his death. In truth his death was long overdue but the words reminded him that the journey was over and gave him permission, in some way, to leave them the next part of their journey alone. Soft words rolled off his thickened tongue, but they were unintelligible; he was too far gone. There was just enough time left for his mismatched eyes to roll up at Ramsay and receive the final words to fall upon his ragged ears — love you — though it was hard to tell whether he truly heard those last words. Orange and white eyes stared blankly into the void while the wind played with his thin, ragged fur and a last spasm-like shudder ran across his spine.

Cicero Sheogorath Melonii was gone; neither the philosopher nor the beast would ever get up again.