Stone Circle Lay me down to sleep

Splattered blood pooled around his love's paws, staining them red, and he felt as though he himself was bleeding, too. As though, while the pair lay there in despair, a part of Mawk's heart had withered from his chest and fallen into Illecebra's grasp; perhaps, then, she would keep it as she passed. Maybe, in some strange world, it would allow a part of him to remain with her, even in death. They would never be truly apart, not for one moment.

"I'm dying, Mawk."

Her words swirled around the scout's mind, embracing his thoughts, but only a choked sob could tumble so tenderly from his muzzle, falling as the tears did from his cheek. No, she couldn't die... He could bring nothing but silence to her mournful goodbye, apologising for her sins and her mistakes - It took a great, heaving intake of breath for a sentence to form on his lips and even then it was wavering, pausing and pained. "No... you healed, Illecebra... You loved... and you fought, and you did a damn good job of it." The sorrow, it was a powerful wave, crashing over his body until he was limp, drowned; the water crept into the crevices of his mind, pulling back with them handfuls of memories, like a washed up book of his mate's life. Her successes, her failures, her very existance and all that she had brought to the world. She had brought him happiness, love, she had brought him children - and they lived on in his heart, just as she would. "I love you too... I love you so much. I will not forget about you, not ever."

"Please find a way to be happy."

Another trembling sob wracked his body, and he pressed closer - if only to feel her warmth before it was gone, if only to feel her spirit at his side for the last time. Her energy was fading and he could see it in the very breaths she took, short and wrought with coughs, splutterings of blood and phlegm. She was dying, and she was dying before his very eyes. Mawk placed his head lovingly on her shoulders, wrapping himself around her as if for protection, a blanket of comfort for her last moments. "My sweet Illecebra," He whispered, so terribly soft. "Thank you... for b-bringing me all that you have. You gave me hope, and I... I will honour your life as b-best I can." It came as a whine, though a silent part of him begged her to stay, begged her not to leave him here; if she had to go, could she not take him with her?

He knew it to be impossible, but it did not cease the ache in his chest.