The wolf's eyes opened gently as he felt the hand on his back, welcoming the touch, his body calming itself down. He laid there with half-lidded eyes until he heard the strained voice.

"...It doesn't matter..." he said calmly, sensing something. "...Think about your family...how your wife greeted you when you came back from work. That subtle smile of hers. The two girls are old enough to play alone, but they welcomed you. The boy...he's learning, and you see yourself in him..." Murdoc said all this with the faintest voice, James wouldn't have been able to distinguish it from his own thoughts. The farmer was about to cross to the other side. Why keep him here with his name than to beckon him towards those waiting? All the while, Murdoc's gaze became vacant, staring ahead of himself with no particular thought...a growing loneliness beginning to settle within him, a light touch just like the hand on his back.

James' brow raised again and gave a faint smile as he watched the wolf. It was comforting to think about his family.. with every specific detail the wolf stated. Like a living memory gracefully played out happily within his mind.

Only a brief moment passed before he no longer was able to keep his eyes from closing or draw life giving breath. One last, slow breath escaped through his nostrils as he closed his eyes. The hand upon Murdoc's back had stopped rubbing down his back. It only stopped at first, then lifelessly fell down Murdoc's back and to his side.

The slow descend of the hand left a cold feeling in Murdoc's spine, his eyes never shifting direction as he listened to the soft exhale of breath and then to the overbearing silence. So quiet, he could hear it.

It was strange, in the best term, how he felt. Before, he would have given anything to keep this man alive, barely even knowing him, at that. But now, he felt...relief. The man didn't have to suffer from his wounds any longer...thought of his family before leaving...Murdoc had found some sort of solace in that.

But that bitter loneliness never left him, his eyes staring into the darkness unknowingly, a familiar feeling he had at a younger age. He had seen many deaths before...but this one was different, far different. This man had everything Murdoc lacked...things he was jealous for. And the soldier who killed him, it was no different than Murdoc, himself, doing the deed. Murdoc did not dismiss this, feeling it gave the two of them greater connection. It was the only explanation he had from the way he felt right now.

Murdoc lost himself in these thoughts, his vacant stare continuing (for how long, he couldn't know) until a shadow blocked what light entered through the door, a figure standing and looking in. It soon came closer to inspect what was inside, glancing first to the soldier before arriving before both Murdoc and the dead man.

Antonis knelt down on a knee before Murdoc, noticing the way the wolf didn't acknowledge him at all with the way he stared ahead. He then moved his eyes to the man, his features peaceful as though he were asleep for the time being, then to the hand at Murdoc's side.

His fur was matted with black stuff along his white fur from handling the burnt wood along the buildings, looking for any survivors. He had barely covered the rest of the town, but gravely there were no survivors that he saw. Antonis let a deep sigh escape through his nostrils, gazing down at Murdoc. It seems the wolf had found one.

A hand moved and laid on top of Murdoc's head, soon beginning to stroke the fur comfortingly with his palm. After a few moments, Murdoc released a very quiet whine, as though he were sighing, eyes never changing from their stare. Antonis gave a final stroke before he lifted himself up, quietly looking down at the two until he turned, making his way out of the stables.

He knew that expression...he knew that feeling very well. Antonis never thought he would admit he was glad to see it, especially on Murdoc.