Hideaway Strath too soon

The smell of blood is pungent and horror strikes fast and freezes his heart, steals and rips the breath from his lungs as it is mixed with Lotte’s scent; even before Hemlock’s call for him rises. Ceannasach has gone cold but he is not numb as he races forward, following the scent. He is not numb when he comes upon the scene: a horrific scene that he hopes with a choked noise that is just a nightmare. A trick. The parasite Riptide playing a cruel jest upon him. His heart hurts and he can’t find his lungs. He moves to her side, ears slicked back to his skull as looks past Hemlock to take in Lotte’s injuries. “No,” Smoky voice is raw with unbridled grief because he knows, he knows that this is not something Hemlock can nurse her back to health from. She has moments left, he fears. It does not take a healer to know this; besides it is written all over Hemlock’s face. “No.” He snarls the word as he presses his muzzle against Lotte’s. “No. You can’t leave me. You can’t — Lotte…,” His can’t find his lungs. He struggles for breath through the crushing grief.

“Please, please, please,” The gangster doesn’t even know what he pleads for. He wants to be strong but he can’t. He always knew Lotte’s death would destroy him, knew it because she is his great love. Not his only love, no, but his first love. The love that he feels in his soul. But if these were to be his last moments with her — and he knows that they are — he needs her to know one single thing. The most important thing. “I love you Lotte. I love you so, so much. I will love you always in this world and in all the others that come after it and I promise that when I pass from this world I will look for you in the next.” And he peppers her muzzle in kisses wondering how much more he could stand to lose before it finally broke him.