"Cassian."

“Cassian.” The voice rang out to his ears like rain against the wall. For they were one in the same, the gentle whisper intermingling with the pattering against the den roof. Hard pounding against a mixture of stone, grass, and dirt. The perfect protection.

“Yes my love?” A gentle caress of a tone despite the pain that settled in his chest. He was exhausted. Delirious even.

“Please.”

“Please what?” Words that strive to serve. Words that yearned for the ability to be the nobleman. The gentleman willing to go endless lengths for his lady.

“Please.”

Moments passed without an elaboration. Cassian grew impatient as he awaited his orders. “I can not know how to assist you if I do not know what I am to do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What must you apologize for? Please, is something wrong?” A gentle whine of concern. Edging towards anticipation intermixed with confusion.

“Forgive.”

Refusing to answer Cassian left the voice to silence. Deep into the void as the rain filled his senses like white noise. Blaring within his heardrums. Feeling down to grip his chest like a child to a worm.

“Cassian.”

Still, no answer came. The voice was fading fast as the dulled surroundings of night were returning. Manifesting into existence as his eyes strained to open to the world around him.

In reverse the darkness took control again. The voice returned.

“Cassian.”

“I know how this ends.”

“I know you do.” The voice spoke as if it was there, gently caressing his cheek fur, dragging its paw along his face to hold his chin. Holding his chin to look at her. To return his gaze to its rightful owner.

A gulp would have escaped him in that moment. Something to prevent himself from what he knew was coming, even at the first time. “Then why do we keep doing this?”

“Because you haven’t honored it yet.”

“I pray to Abram every night- I honor you every-”

“Abram never helped us.”

“Please my flower I-”

“You need to accept it.”

That was when the tear would have followed. Trailing his face like the cedarwood markings that lined his eyes and muzzle. “I failed you.”

“I know.”

“But-”

“But you couldn’t help it.”

“I-” Trailing into silence his eyes would have begun to close.

“You need to accept that.”

“I need to accept it.”

“But you won’t.”

“But I won’t.” Verbatim. Many times over.

A gentle kiss would have been laid upon his forehead. Between his brows in the furrowed space between.

And then all the same, he would wake up. To the same scene before. An empty den. Rain trickling down the entrance, but drying into the dirt below.

And he would be alone.