Noctisardor Bypass ich muss dir sagen

He said he wasn't ready, but Wylla wondered how true that really was. He was making contingency plans, which meant it was bad. Bad enough for him to see no way out of it. Most of his words fell on deaf ears, not because Wylla didn't want to listen, but because things were rapidly spiralling out of control and it was a struggle enough to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now that she knew, it seemed obvious His fur was hiding it, but he had lost weight. His eyes were more dull than usual. Even his voice rasped with the ghost of illness beneath it, all things she had not noticed until Phaedra mentioned the cough. And even then, it was likely Wylla overlook it all, but to know he thought it would kill him—!

She knew he probably wanted the terminus of his life to be meaningful in some way, spent with loved ones. Who wouldn't want that? But Wylla, well, she nodded her brisk agreement that he would try a thousand medicines. In the morning, she said, trying her best to whisk her own fear away and failing to keep it from her voice when her throat tightened and strained, I will go, and search for someone who can fix this.

And if there was no one, if he was right and it could not be fixed with medicine, then she would find another way. Mahler's death would affect so many wolves, but Wylla's life amounted to nothing. If she found a possibility of trading the remainder of her life for his ... She was willing to try anything. She wasn't ready to lose him, not before she even got to have him.

Not before she could look out over the water with him over a meal of ducks and tell him she wanted him to be hers, not in the heat of the moment, but in a moment of peaceful tranquility.