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“No, she deserves better than being thrown into a pit with the rest of them.” He knelt and pulled the sheet up to her chin, a part of him wishing to believe she was merely sleeping off a cold and needed tucking in.
/She couldn't be dead.../ He thought. /I was only gone a day./
Roscoe gently wiped away the blood from her eyes and stood with his fellow Whaler who put an arm over his shoulder. Finn knew about this little secret, how Roscoe would steal away in the night with armfuls of tonics and jellied eels, and how much better his mood would be on returning the next morning. He wasn't going to fault his friend for wanting to be happy even for a little while.
“I’ll take her to the boundary where the water isn't as high and place her somewhere bright,” Finn said “I’m headed out that way anyway. You take my patrol here and grieve.”
/Somewhere bright. Yes, she'd like that, she always loved being in the sun./ He remembered half listening to her talk about her favourite kind of cheese as they sat on the roof, the sun making a rare appearance through the dense cloud. Her smile proved to be brighter and warmer than any sunny day.
He turned and blinked up onto the roof. Finn was close behind, holding his precious cargo close to his chest. They parted ways with a nod, Roscoe watching as his friend carefully picked his way around the chimneys, only letting himself crumble when they were out of sight.
/Why did I take that assignment? Why didn't I see the signs of the sickness? Did she keep it from me? I should have brought her to Daud, he would have known what to do./ Kneeling by the edge of the roof, he allowed his mind to race. So clouded was mind that he didn’t hear the thudding of boots, or the hands reaching for him before it was too late.