until their dying breath
#6
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     No excuses, no apologies, no regrets. He had lived by that once, and perhaps he would be able to live by that again. Ahren felt no guilt for the terrible things he had done. He knew what he was doing. He had known all along, even if the path was covered in gasoline and blood. It was going to drive him to madness, if he was not all ready there. A crooked grin crossed his face at the question, and he let out a half-laugh, something full of desperation. “Get you help,” he said lowly. Lord knew that Laruku, of all people, needed that.
     He moved and hooked Laruku’s arms over his shoulder, and then managed to get the hybrid onto his back. When he had done this with Jasper earlier, it had been much easier—his son was smaller and lighter, and so out of it he could barely move. The heat radiating from the hybrid was like a living fire. Cautiously, Ahren began to move, doing his best to take an easy trail that would cause less strain on himself and the scarred man on his back.







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