As soon as the trio set foot in Moladion, the girl he had saved, bolted like a rabbit running from a wolf. Voice raw as he yelled after the girl, but she kept running. He cast a worried pained look at Guinevere, who took off, following the young girl, she was limping due to her own injury from the fire. He, however, probably had the worst injuries out of all three. His paws were raw, legs burned nearly up to his shoulders. His face, which had been mainly gray due to age, was burned. His lungs burned each and every day, each and every breath worse to take in. He found himself weaker today than he had been the past few weeks since the fire.

He had heard the whining, the death cries, and he saw her running, the fire dying on the ends of her fur. She was screaming, and had run back into the fire before he could get to her, only to see her flop onto her belly, facing the forms of her family that had already perished in the fire. She had yelped, fought, and tried to get back to her dead family, but he couldn't let her go. He knew she wanted to join them heck, he would have too should he be in that situation, but he knew she had a full life ahead of her. He must save her.

The past weeks have been rough, stopping here and there, finding spearmint leaves along the lines, along with a rare aloe plant when they came across a really desert like land. That with the spearmint had helped the girl's burns, soothing and healing. He had tried them on himself, only to find that they were much too deep, much too painful.

His darling daughter, Guinevere, only had minor injuries thankfully. And not a burn, but she had cut her leg on something when they ran.

He finally laid down, wincing as the burns radiated heat, once again. He laid his head down, trying to catch his breath. It was getting harder, more so today than the past few days. He wasn't sure what it was, what was going on. His dark navy eyes slid shut, and he let loose a relaxed breath, probably for the first time in...well, ages.

It was then that he fell asleep, his navy eyes dimming, his breath slowing until his chest no longer moved. Some would say he went painlessly, but we'll never know.

It was hours, hours, before Guinevere returned to her father's side, only to see him frozen and un-moving. A shriek like howl escaped her lips, agony visible in her cry. She fell to her belly beside him, pushing at his head with hers, trying her hardest to get him to pick up his head, to say something, to tell her to bug off and let him sleep. Anything!