Page 67 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

When morning came and Ragnar woke, Trogen was not in his lap. He called softly, hoping the dog at least knew the sound of his voice, if not his name. Had Trogen abandoned him? He searched, trying to keep the frantic tone out of his voice. As he neared the rock ledge, Trogen appeared at the top, letting out a cheerful bark.

Ragnar relaxed. “How about we go for a walk?” He set off towards the farm, slapping his thigh to bring Trogen to his side. The dog bounded over, allowed a scratch behind his ears, and gamboled ahead, chasing birds from their hollows and scent-marking as he went.

Absolon had three days left. What if this didn’t work? What if Trogen was not enough to keep Absolon alive? He paused at the edge of the field with the dog by his side, his tail wagging as he looked up at him. “I guess this is it, Trogen.”

No matter what happened, he needed to try.

He marched across the field. It seemed to take an age to reach the house and yet the journey was over too soon. Sweat slicked his palms, and he wiped them on his coat, his fist hesitating as it hovered in front of Absolon’s door. Trogen sat beside him, looking expectantly. Perhaps he thought he was going to be fed. At least he expected something; Ragnar didn’t know what he wanted to happen.

He understood though, as long as it had taken to gain, that whatever Absolon decided was his choice. He hoped it was the one that would keep him in the world. He flexed his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Absolon opened the door. Ragnar opened his mouth to speak. Until that moment he had hoped Absolon would be so grateful he’d brought the dog back that he’d take him back too. But seeing the sorrow and despair in Absolon’s eyes and knowing he was the cause of so much of it, what he wanted didn’t matter as long as Absolon lived.

Ragnar looked down at Trogen and pointed into the house. “Go!"

Trogen stood and hurried inside, a quick sniff and friendly yip for Absolon as he passed.

“What is this?”

“If you won’t stay alive for me, at least stay alive for Trogen.” He wanted to say more but his words never meant much. He wanted to touch Absolon’s cheek, or rest a hand over his heart, but his touch was more poisoned than ever. He turned and ran before he changed his mind.

---