Sorry Perrin and Faile fans. Little depressing.

My sister wrote this, and it's on my site because she can't have one yet.

"Isn't there anything else? I will do anything! Anything!"

"I'm sorry, Perrin, I can't do anything." Perrin ignored the regret in Nynaeve's voice. There was nothing she could do. Faile was going to die. The thought itself made tears pour out of his eyes. He turned away from her sweating face. Her beautiful face. She had held out for almost three months, she had held out long. No! She was not dead yet. Not yet. Oh, not yet.

Egwene put an arm on his shoulder and tried to comfort him, but he knew it useless. Faile dead.

"Perrin…" Faile moaned

Her voice swerved his head. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Even more tears gushed from his eyes. She was dying, he could hear it.

She smiled faintly. "I know."

With that her eyes closed to the sleep he knew was coming: death.

"No! No…Oh, not yet, please not yet." But she was dead. Dead. It made his mouth dry, and his eyes exerted the unused moisture.

He was sure they would expect him to mourn by her, so the women started for the door. He beat them. Running from the sickhouse door, he went toward the Westwood. Even more tears came then. Faile had been the only thing keeping him apart from the wolves, and he knew it. But then he didn't care if he went as mad as Rand had become, he needed release from his sorrow. He needed release from his life pain.

Perrin –no, Young Bull now, howled to the waning moon from his perch on the hill. His she was gone. Gone to the dream world. He would not see her except in the dream. It was reality.

Young Bull reached toward his brothers. Dapple and her pack were close. I need a pack, sister. Young Bull pleaded, The falcon is gone. I need to dream with her.

We mourn your loss, brother. We come. Dapple sent. Young Bull soon picked up the sounds of the approaching pack. His night-vision soon picked up the brothers coming from the forest.

Kill me Young Bull sent.

Why? You could hunt with us. Eating is good. Dapple asked, concern and confusion mixed up in the sending.

Without the falcon, I would rather be dead. Young Bull pronounced.

If you wish it, brother.

The pack closed in with a concerned wariness, as if afraid they were going to have resistance. Most ceremonial deaths were for the crazed. Dapple toke the first bite, and Young Bull did not resist. All the rest came in and took one bite on various parts. He knew this ceremony.

May you rest in the dream world, and hunt with pride. Young Bull recognized the sending off. Closing his eyes, he waited for Dapple to kill him, to let him roam with the Falcon. Dapple took the final killing bite.

As he drifted off into the long sleep, the part of him so deeply suppressed, that said he was human, that his name was Perrin, ruled his last thought. I am coming, Faile. I am coming.