"These bones really ain't cut out for running." Trusty thought tiredly to himself. "But at least I got back and I got a message to deliver to Miss Lady Mam and her significant other." The old bloodhound practically pulled himself through the gate and onto the porch, where all was quiet and peaceful for a moment, before he was swarmed with questions by Jock, an old and reliable, if overly-concerned friend.

"Trusty! That was a stupid thing ye' and the two girls did! Anything bad could happin' on those streets."

He blinked and tried his best to focus his blurry vision on the black Scottie. "I j-just need to deliver-" An uncontrollable fit of coughing cut him off, the rough sensation hurt his throat. Once it had passed he slowly composed himself. "I have a message that Miss Lady Mam and her sig-"

"Trusty man." He was cut off again, this time by Jocks' shocked gasp.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

It seemed to take a moment of deliberation, before the Scottie spoke again. "Now don't panic man, but it would appear that you're...not in the best of health, but it could just have been all that running, ye' know? All the strain that ye' might h've put on yer' 'ody, sometimes that could-"

"Jock."

He looked up, eyes widened in surprise. Trusty very rarely addressed him by his first name.

"What's going on?"

Jock didn't respond, but he was eyeing something on the ground. Following his eyes, Trusty saw just what had shocked Jock. A splatter of blood sat at his paws. His throat somehow hurt even worse when looking at that.

His end was approaching. That much was obvious.

Mercifully it didn't make life too painful. There were a few strange side-effects, ones that he couldn't explain, or understand. His head rang constantly with memories from a long time ago. It was somewhat exhilarating to be placed back in a time where he ran side-by-side with a sheriff. A man that every criminal in town feared. The jingle of the sheriffs' boots was always right behind him, as they ran across wherever, his nose planted to the ground, following a specific scent.

The coughing fits were arguably worst of all. They had started out small and only on occasion, but lately had become so bad, that he found himself coughing up blood multiple times a day. It never mattered whether he lay completely still, or moved around a great deal.

Annoyingly, there was always something with his vision. It had become as cloudy as his scent of small. Waking up took a long time, his eyes had to be forced open and when they were, it took an endless amount of blinking, before he could really move around and do anything.

Heck, just moving around was becoming difficult. Every time he stood, his legs shook, ready to give out under his weight. But he pushed on, dragging himself to his food bowl, eating his fill and then resting on the porch.

"Trusty man?"

As much as he would've liked to answer, the effort of it all seemed so much. From where his head lay on his paws, he tiredly glanced up, just to let Jock know that he had heard him. Jock looked more like a black spot, than anything else.

"Ye' got yerself a visitor t'day."

He watched, as a brown spot, presumably Lady, slowly walked out from behind Jock and planted herself in front of him.

"Trusty..." Her voice came out hoarse and strained, almost as if she had been doing a great amount of crying. "You're going to be okay, everything's going to be okay."

The tone in her voice, helped to build up the strength needed to form a response. "Wh-why woul-wouldn't thi-things b-b-be okay? I'm gonna' miss you M-miss Lady mam."

"Now don't ye' go sayin' things like that man, that's no way t-"

"I'm gonna' miss you too old friend. We had some good times together, huh? Can ya' remember that one story I told you abo-"

A sudden fit of coughing cut him off. He heard Lady gasp, likely at the blood that was spluttering from his mouth.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Lady seemed too hysterical to answer her daughter and so Jock quickly sprang in. "Now, now, don't ye' go worrying 'bout these things lassie. Everyt-"

"He's dying!"

Things were becoming too hard to keep track of. The colorful dots were moving around in a frenzy. They looked beautiful and he wanted to keep staring, but ultimately the pressure on his eyelids took over and they drooped slowly. The voices around became more and more distant, soon enough they were entirely gone. His nose was what really gave him his final sensation. The smell of freshly blooming roses in the distance.

Then all was quiet.