Dawnlark Plains caught in your riptide

he watches her go, but satisfaction does not come. not when emýr's gaze trails her so forlornly, as if a piece of his very soul has been torn from him. erys rises slowly to his feet, wary for once of that temper, and moves to stand beside the man.

the bond between mother and child, that warmth- he has never known it. but he longs for it with every breath he takes. it is why he stayed with ennaya as long as he did. he steps closer, almost enough to touch.

he will not make it to summer anyway. and then he retreats. recoils slowly, like a dog kicked one too many times. he is acutely aware of his own mortality, how the clock ticks day by day. he does not like to think about it. does not want emýr to see him as some shriveling, dying thing.

"go with her." he urges, and then he is slipping between tussocks of grass, one careful pawstep at a time.

"i will not bother you again."

exit erys!