The Sentinels better to reign in hell

a cough racked lasher's body as he stood with muzzle downcast at the edge of the wood. it was a dry, hard sound, one that reverberated from the bare trees. all night he had wrestled with it, until his ribcage ached from the strain. he would seek out eilidh, for water had not soothed his throat.

the druid coughed again, this time dissolving into a flurry of the hacking, collapsing soon after with an exhausted groan on the earth, to breathe in the scent of the loam and consider what this illness meant for his corporeal form -- and donnelaith