“Davey, really. You’re losing your head over nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

He was dying.

Years had passed from when he had first taken Davey as an apprentice. From those years Davey has developed into a master at the arts Gavin had dedicated his life to. He could slink into a room completely unnoticed with out even trying, he could fire an arrow at a sprinting deer through the woods on a foggy morning with such ease it seemed natural. He was a menace with a knife, and often times Gavin had to replace pieces of training equipment but a day after obtaining it. Overall, Davey had done superb.

Gavin could not have hoped for more.

But now the grizzled assassin stood on shaky legs in the snow, refusing to stop his daily ritual of firing arrows in the wee hours of the morning by request of his now fully-fledged inferior. The old man refused to believe his illness was an excuse to give up. However, both his body and the few who cared around him disagreed.

But still, the assassin denied his expiration.