Ashamin the haruspex found it difficult to breathe. A sort of shock set into him, numbing his senses and paralyzing every function within his body. When he looked up (for he could not move his gaze from where it had hopefully flicked, skyward) he felt a dread of loneliness. In the moments after the attack and before Hotaru's shadow crossed his wounds, Ashamin felt so terribly alone. In those moments his pain felt solitary, self-inflicted, and incurable.

Time, though, would someday come to an end. For now this small series of shocks, this steady drip of blood, was soothed by the lady Hotaru and her sorrow. But the comfort of her body against his was short lived, for the words that fell from her lips were a declaration of something Ashamin understood better than most.

In an attempt to do the honorable thing, to help those in his herd and take their pain himself, he had hurt Hotaru. The sobs that ran through her, the tears that fell from her face and onto his injuries... were these not the cries of the wounded?

Ashamin, were he able to move, would have pushed Hotaru away. She didn't want to do that again? No, what she didn't want was for him to make her. He had made her do this, had commanded of her a pain so intense that perhaps her hurt was far deeper than his. Ashamin knew that as heavy as the physical pain was now, it would heal. He would, in time, stand tall again.

Hotaru was strong, or at least Ashamin had always seen her that way. But now? What had he reduced his lady to? He had hurt her so much, wounded her in ways he had not thought imaginable. So it seemed that the Moon Goddess had won, after all.

Ashamin flexed his jaw, grunted and stirred beneath the rosenshade. She didn't want him to hurt her anymore? Then he wouldn't. Slowly, painfully, Ashamin lifted himself. A hind hoof slipped in blood, his teeth ground, but he did not give in until somehow, somehow, he was standing. The shock was lifted, his warrior's spirit rose in him like a white flag. This, whatever this was, was over.

"I promise, Hotaru," Ashamin said through clenched teeth and tears. "I will never hurt you again."

With those words the haruspex turned to leave her, his tail dragging broken behind him and his gait awkwardly hindered. Were it not for his warrior's spirit, for the control he had trained to burn in himself, he would have been forever at her mercy. But Ashamin knew this was not how he could live any longer. He could not, would not, allow himself to cause pain like this to the ones that he loved. He was no one's liability; he would be their protector.

As he dragged himself down the slopes and shelves, stumbling down the last of the way and at last crumbling at the mountain's base, Ashamin thought about pain.

""

ASHAMIN