The Demise of a King
His fingers were frozen, as was the rest of his body, which was exposed to the frozen tundra. He was unable to move his extremities, the numbing cold working deep into his bones, delving seamlessly past the layers of fur, skin, and muscle, his body temperature dipping each moment he rested, his back against the boulder, feeling his strength slowly ebbing and draining away.
He thinks of his companions, their fearless leader…realized that he had done something noble. The word was foreign to his tongue, and yet in essence he was; he had fought his leader's enemy in his place, so he could escape. He had actually sacrificed his life for another.
He let his head lull back against the cool rock surface, wondering if that was the single best or worst thing that he had ever done in his life.
He sighed, his breath rattling in his throat. Even lying here, all he could think of was that boy. All innocence, naïve childish antics…everything he never was. That boy had become the center of his world; after his untimely death there was no longer a purpose for him to live.
If his death meant that his companion would go on, and that he'd meet up with the boy in the next life, He wouldn't hesitate for even a moment.
A spasm wracked his body, foamy spittle ran down the corner of his mouth, his stomach clenched painfully and he felt his life slipping away, moments from the cold, numb embrace of the snow-covered mountain.
I'll be with you soon, he thought, picturing the pup in his mind, hoping he'd be greeted by cinnamon fur and a gentle nuzzle when he met the boy again.
I wish I could've been the one to take you to Paradise…He gave a final glance to the sullen, overcast sky, before slumping to the bloodied ground, eyes glazed, snow slowly covering the gray, scarred body.
AN: I own nothing but my own broken heart.