What Is Paw: A Fictional Narrative

Pawl reached down and ruffled Star’s fur. “Back inside, my beast.”

Star let out an excited yip and followed Pawl inside.

Once back in the infirmary, Pawl fed Star a bowl of meat scraps and grain, which the animal devoured in a few hungry gulps. Normally, such bustling would have woken Lindara, but she still slept with her face to the wall. It seemed unusual, because she usually woke before the sun, but perhaps all the late nights of lovemaking had caught up with her and she needed her rest.

Pawl decided this would be a fine time to take Star visiting and acquaint her with the people of the castle, starting with Joan and Perceval. But first, he approached the bed and leaned down to give Lindara a soft kiss goodbye. However, the moment he pressed

She settled down, but moaned occasionally. He sat beside her in bed for hours, wiping her brow with cool cloths infused with mint oil, dispensing more medicine when needed, and trying to soothe her back to sleep. Lindara rested fitfully, sometimes calling out a name: Jacob. Pawl realized that was her deceased husband’s name. In all their discussions, he’d never thought to ask.

“Jacob,” Lindara muttered again. “I love him. Please understand…”

Pawl understood all too well, the feelings of guilt and disloyalty that bubbled to the surface when falling in love again after losing a spouse. He hadn’t realized Lindara struggled with those same issues.

“It’s all right.” He stoked her damp hair. “Merrion and Jacob understand. They do. Perhaps they know each other now. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Day gave way to night, and there had been no change with Lindara. Joan stopped by after the night time bell and told Pawl she’d sought out Merlin to see if he could help with a healing spell, but it turned out Merlin was traveling and not due back for a week.

“It’s all right,” Pawl told her. “There are always risks that come with magical healing; it’s not ideal. But I thank you for

She is kind, good, and generous. The world would be a hollow place without her.” Pawl unclasped his hands and stared up at the ceiling. “Can you hear me? I really don’t know what else to say.”

Silence met his ears, but what had he expected? A deity to appear and assuage his fears? Unlikely. It was time to tend to practical matters anyway, writing up his will. Because if Lindara did not survive, and if he didn’t catch her illness and die from it, he would fall on his sword. This time, he would go to the forest and do it.

Pawl gathered parchment, an inkwell, and a quill, and sat down to pen his final will and testament. There was not much to it, as he owned no land and few people would want his worn, shoddy furniture. He’d see to it those items were given to the poor. But the one thing he possessed was a good amount of coin. He hadn’t spent much of his wages on anything other than alcohol and necessities in the past, so he had plenty saved up. Since there was no one else to whom he could leave his small fortune, he decided to leave all of it to Joan and Perceval. Raising a child was expensive; the babe would need a cradle, clothes, tutors, and whatever else it was children