Things were different this year. Lachesis still held onto the throne due to Maksim’s injuries healing much slower than he had anticipated and the Baranski’s were not expecting a litter of their own this spring. Instead, it was two former members of Pitch Pine Trail that would be adding their lineage to Hearthwood’s legacy. Together they had gone through the creation and demise of Pitch Pine and the move from Cut Rock to Hearthwood, strengthening their friendship through each move. XIX was still in disbelief that he was going to be a father. He was going to have to get a grasp on the situation soon; it wouldn’t be long until Naia gave birth and there would be little ones to take care of.

He had been lingering around the borders of their territory, hoping to bump into a loner skulking around, when he heard Kisla’s call through the trees. With a frown falling onto his maw he changed his course of direction in search of the agouti while wearing a perplexed expression. Had Maksim gotten worse and he’d been unaware? Or was something else troubling the green-eyed queen? He weaved through the trees, his long legs carrying him quickly through the territory as he approached his friend, eyes softening once he saw her tawny figure. “Kisla,” he greeted warmly, dipping his head respectively and brushing his cheek to hers. “Is everything alright?” He asked as he pulled away, studying her through narrowed brows. 

Useless was a feeling that Lachesis had only experienced once before in his short life. It was when his dear friend Shade, the father of Lachesis’ sort-of nephew Karpos, had passed away as a result of his wounds. The pale healer had been unable to do anything for the late king, which had both frustrated and devastated XIX. Maksim’s condition was of a similar calibre. While death was not on the horizon for the agouti king, his condition did not seem to be getting any better. It remained the same, stuck in a limbo; refusing to get better but also refusing to get worse. Lachesis felt useless because no matter what he did — what he tried — his condition did not alter.

Hearing the queen speak pained him; she was lost without her king by her side. They had led the river wolves through turmoil together, an unbeatable force until sickness stole her mate away from her. It was not fair. Why Maksim? What had he done to deserve this? And Kisla — she did not deserve this. All she wanted was for her family to be whole again and bring another generation of Baranski’s to Hearthwood.

He did not answer just yet. Instead, he allowed the queen to say her piece, spilling her heart onto the ground between them. It made his heart ache to hear the words fall from her tongue. I need him. His throat tightened at the statement. Kisla was not the only one that needed the green-eyed king. Lachesis felt lost without his best friend.

“He’s not getting any worse,” he started, a sigh accompanying his words, “but he doesn’t seem to be getting better. The infection is gone, but I worry it may have gotten into his blood.” There was only so much plants could do for the king now. “We just have to keep him moving — make sure he’s as active as he can be — and keep his strength up.” As much as Lachesis wanted to believe that would help, he did not know if it would. Infections were much harder to treat once they entered the bloodstream.

He touched his nose to her cheek once more in an attempt to comfort his friend, his brows furrowed. “We all need him,” he added quietly, echoing his previous thoughts. I need him… He was not supposed to be the leader of Hearthwood — this was Maksim’s pack; it would always be his pack.