The Sentinels Bravery only means something to those afraid of death.

Before that night, the world had seemed so simple: Rusalka and Drageda, black and white, darkness and light. Narrow dividing lines of their own making. And when the illusion of self is shattered, one simply ceased to be. Though it may not seem that way to others others on the outside, Dacio knew when it is true. He could feel it, a stranger in his own body, an imposter, and nothing would be the same ever again.

Not for him. Not for Raleska.

There was so little left to lose.

She did not welcome his approach, but nor did she make attempt to repel him like before. Dacio continued with his tentative advancement, creeping through the darkness until he was close enough to feel the warmth of the she-wolf's breath on his face. It was only when her voice cracked beneath the sheer weight of her emotion that he finally moved to touch his speckled snout to her own raven muzzle, seek to draw deep the scent of her and hope that she would not see his gesture as a threat but a communication of his attempt to try. Try to be better. Gentler. Trustworthy.