Kildeer Rest cigarette daydreams

He'd half-hoped Zamael would at least follow in silence, but that's not the case. He persists, and as always, Alarian crumbles under the slightest pressure. But this time there are no flood waters behind the dam; he feels like a dried up husk, tired of feeling at all and sick to death of being wrong for it. He stops abruptly, pausing a couple beats to compose himself enough to face his brother.
I thought you were gone, He says as he finally turns to him, finding his voice surprisingly level. That you'd left again or gotten hurt — or killed. He pauses again, oddly focused on his own breathing now. The first time, I didn't think twice about leaving. I didn't this time either, until —
It doesn't matter. You're back now. He starts to turn again, but a sharp pain shoots through his skull where the fresh scarring lurks under his fur. He pauses, sucking in a breath; it's the stress, he knows, but it's more than the stress. This will almost certainly trouble him more in the future, and the knowledge is just another burden he doesn't need.