They waited. Mr. Rabbit was struggling to breath, and seemed to be entering a sort of feverish condition.

Amidst the rain, a number of howls could be heard.

Mr. Rabbit coughed, and whispered with weakness:

“T-the wolves… are getting closer. You must hurry to enter Lúmina’s Tower. COF COF! Urgh… it seem I won’t be able to follow you, after all. How unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Rabbit, what is happening? Are you sick? Did you eat something?”

“Oh, Max… I fear I may be… I fear I may be dying, son.”

Max freezed. Meryl the Mole trembled, before exclaiming:

“w-what the hell?? what are you even saying, bunnybutt?? d-drop the play.”

“I wish I was playing, my friend… but it is true.”

Max couldn’t believe it.

“W-Why?”

Mr. Rabbit coughed one more time, before responding:

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