Sandy loses the bitch close after the birth, expending the last of her vital energy dragging her tongue across one of her pups. Two of the newborns don't make it -- it is difficult to keep them warm, stimulated, reminding them to breathe. The three that remain are not in good condition, but they survive. Joshua finds Sandy outside the cave, the barest light of he impending sunrise making a halo around his form, and he's scrubbing a hand over his tired face. Joshua isn't sure if his presence is yet known as he approaches on quiet footsteps, Sandy taking in a heavy sigh and muttering, Shit.

There is a crunch of pebbles under Joshua's feet loud enough to make Sandy turn to face him. It was just a dog, but Joshua knows that face. Very, very well.

"You did more for her than anyone else did in her entire life," Joshua says.

Sandy fully turns to face him, arms hanging helplessly at his sides. "Wasn't enough," he says simply, greif weighing the low end of his words.

"None of the pups would have survived if not for you," Joshua reminds him carefully. Every step is unsure, but he wants to take them.

Sandy fixes those big tawny eyes on him, the premature aging around them in lines and shadows betraying how much younger than most people guess he is. "May not even be enough," he says. "We have to figure out a way to feed 'em, to keep 'em healthy without their mother's milk. And there's just no keepin' 'em warm, with the drafts, an' what happens if that runt's lungs really are underdeveloped an'--"

Joshua knows the decision was Sandy's but his body is acting on instinct, and he reaches out to trail scarred, deadened fingertips over the curve of Sandy's jaw. Silencing him. Even before he lost his body Joshua had not mastered the art of the comforting touch. All of this is too foreign. But he is soothed to see some of the steady calm return to Sandy's expression.

Another aborted movement in Sandy's right hand, echoing through his arm, and Joshua can't let this one go. "This isn't going to be enough for you," he murmurs.

Sandy follows the change of topic. "This again?" he says with a soft fond smile.

"I'm done trying to convince you," Joshua says, letting his fingertips linger on Sandy's jaw, on skin he can't feel. "But just know that when the day comes, I won't resent you."

Sandy reaches up and catches his hand in a touch so light it can barely be called a grasp, brings two of the red fingertips to his lips so he can press a featherlight kiss against them. "An' I know I can't convince you," he says quietly, "so lemme prove it to you."

This is all foreign territory. But it is territory Joshua is pleased to explore.

Sandy releases his hand, takes in a heavy breath. "I'd like to bury her," he says. "She deserves that honor."

Joshua nods. "First thing after sunrise," he promises.

Sandy looks at him from under his eyebrows. "You'll be with me?"

"Of course."