Lake Rodney Sailor Song

He dipped a paw into the water, black filth spreading from him in ripples.

Cold.

When his gaze rose, he saw the emotions flicker across her face, recognized them intimately, for they mirrored the ones he had carried so often himself. His paw lifted slightly, hesitating in the charged space between them, before lowering again—an unspoken promise not to tread where she had not invited him, not to take from her what had been taken from them by so many others.

Then I hope, he murmured, his voice low, that when you dream, it is your shadow that looms over that bastard, not mine.

And he was grateful then, when Eset reached out to him. He took her paw firmly, hoping to pour into her the same strength she had offered nights ago.

Someone less would not have done what you did for me. Fought for me, believed in me, saved me from myself. The words caught in his throat, and there arose a burning in his eyes, a sharp, stinging sensation that forced him to close them briefly, his grip tightening around her hand.

Akashingo did not save me, Eset. Muat-Riya did not save me, Pharoah did not save me. He blinked heavily, his voice wavering as he spoke. I was going to die there. I knew no one was coming for me. But you did.

You did.

A sniff betrayed him, his face hot with embarrassment, the flush spreading beneath his fur. I apologize for my lack of composure, he laughed, strained, hurriedly wiping a paw across his eyes. It seems I must have managed to get dirt in my eyes while digging. How terribly inconvenient.