Herbalists' Cache What a find

She was fighting back--that was good. In an incredibly warped way, that was good. The longing in her eyes squeezed his heart, and for a brief instant, he considered rushing into her embrace, his body warring with his mind. He kept steady, though, looking at her as she spoke, not daring to cut her off until she'd exhausted her words.

Pema fell silent, and Shale blinked at her, his breath coming hard and fast. "Pema," he said hoarsely, voice dropped an octave lower than usual. It rang of pain, frustration. . .fear. He swallowed, almost panting from the panic that rose suddenly within like a cresting wave. "Pema, you don't understand. I. . ."

"I can't."

The tiny black seed spilled from the corner of her mouth, rolling for a second across the ground before coming to a stop. With a sobbing breath, he clutched it between his teeth again, nosing against her trembling muzzle.

"Please," he pleaded, throat tight with grief. It was the end.

"I. . .can't." She had grown too weak; even the desire to end the pain was gone. Her ribs, starkly visible against the dull brown of her pelt, rose and fell infinitesimally--she barely breathed.

"Don't leave me," Shale begged.

The flashback took him unawares, and his knees buckled; only by sheer force of will did he remain standing. A shudder ran through his body, the taste of poppies heavy on his tongue. He rolled his eyes skyward, and only then did he realize they stood in the shade of an alder tree.

Lucy.

"You would be scared, too," he whispered, his shattered gaze returning to her face.