Blackfeather Woods we would say anything just to hear what we want, right or wrong

He isn't sure what to say after that. It doesn't seem like there's anything to be said, really; everything sucks and neither of them can do anything about it. He swallows. At least he doesn't hate me. Do you want to... sit together for awhile? He feels stupid for asking, suddenly. I mean — we can't really patrol or anything, and there's not much to talk about. But I'd like your company. Maybe it's the brain-fog getting to him — maybe things were always going to go this way. There's no room for regrets now, between the infection that's killing him and the widening hole in his heart.