My breath curls in the air in smoky tendrils. I’ve never noticed before, how beautiful it is. The essence of life, dancing in the wind. The air is crisp, and my body shakes with cold and shock. The ice reaches down to my bones, causing a deep shiver that trembles to my core. My hands shake, clutching at the bloody mess of my chest. I know it’s pointless at this point, but I’m not ready to walk through the Veil. I promised Andor I would fight to my dying breath.
It feels so long ago, that we huddled by the fire, laughing and trading childhood stories. So long ago, that we slipped away from our Master, journeying deep into the forest. The imprint of his lips is still fresh on my lips. But not as fresh as his blood, soaked into my dress, mixing with my own. His eyes flash in my mind, the way they looked, drained of their fire.
Dead. He is dead.
A tendril of mist catches my eye, and I slowly force my head up, staring into the dark. I see only shadows. But a presence presses in on me. I know I’m not alone. I watch the trees carefully, waiting. The smell of my blood is bound to attract monsters, especially in the middle of a harsh winter.
My eyes close slowly. The blood flow has slowed, and the strength leeches from my body on the breeze. Suddenly, the Veil is before me. A hand reaches through, strong and familiar. Andor.
I let my hand fall from my chest. The last of my life blood pulses out, dripping onto the snow. But the feeling no longer disturbs me. My vision darkens, and I raise my eyes to meet the wolf’s gaze one more time. His golden eyes, warm and comforting, are the last I see of the world. My soul lifts from my body, and the pain disappears.
Peace.
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