Chapter Text
Like any tried-and-true sheriff, Starlo began his last patrol at sundown and ended it at low noon. Moray offered to join him, but he shut the idea down rather quickly. He was the sheriff after all! Any sheriff worth his salt— or should he say badge, hehe— could handle one simple patrol.
He certainly was not in that group with the way he was currently acting.
His feet dragged behind him, each stride heavier and more uneven than the last. Sweat matted his already warm face, and he heaved in shallow breath after shallow breath, each one harder than the last. His body felt too hot, yet he shivered with every step he took. His poncho was coated with a thin layer of sand and grime. All while his hand hovered over the wound that had bloomed on the left side of his ribs. Every slight movement pulled on his pus-riddled stitches and sent a flash of white hot pain up his spine.
Behind him, the Wild East lay quiet, encased in shadows. Not even a cricket was stirring, or a mouse.
“I— I can’t back down…” Even speaking was hard; it felt like his saliva had turned into honey and weighed down his tongue. “I gotta… Gotta keep the peace…” His voice was ragged with exhaustion. “I can’t give up yet…” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to fool anymore, maybe himself.
A sharp jolt of pain ripped its way through his side, and he felt his heart stop in his chest. Fumbling in his next step, he pawed at his chest, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Then, without warning, his heartbeat sped up, as if he were running a marathon. His knee buckled with his next tread, his other going along with it. His glasses went first, slipping off his face, so that his exhausted body could crush them, his hat falling beside him. His body met the coarse ground with a hissed out grunt as dirt clouded around him.
He tried to push himself up with his trembling limbs, but he could barely muster any energy to lift his head, let alone pull himself up; the action made his injury begin to pulse. It felt like lava was coursing through his veins.
Starlo fell back onto the cold ground with a groan. Shivers wracked their way through his body, pulling an unsteady whimper from his cracked lips. His breaths came out shallow and uneven, drawing in the occasional grains of sand that left him a sweaty, heaving mess, spittle dripping from the corners of his mouth.
But even then, in the pathetic state he was in, he refused to give up.
“I– I can’t give up, I gotta–” A violent, wet cough ripped itself from his throat, leaving him gasping for air. His vision blurred together as a sharp prickling sensation ran down his spine. “I… The peace… It’ll fall apart without me…”
Minutes passed, and soon hours, each one weighing heavier on him than the last. The chill seeped into his skin, all the way past his clothes and into his bones.
A wind kicked up nearby, and Starlo slowly curled in on himself, rocking back and forth in an attempt to chase the cold away. The ‘stars’ above were no different than the people sleeping safely at home, both completely oblivious to his current plight.
Eyes dull and half-lidded, barely coherent, he muttered to himself:
“Maybe… Maybe I don’t deserve to be saved…” The thoughts of all his failings and mistakes collide into thousands of delirious thoughts.
In one last-ditch effort, he attempted to push himself up. To find even a sliver of that ‘North Star’ strength in him, yet his body and mind betrayed him. His world tilted on its axis as a body stung with irritation, and his ears rang.
“Don’t wanna… Fail nobody…” Yet the moment the words left his mouth, his body had given out.
His head pilantly lolled to the side, limbs dropping with exhaustion as the frigid night claimed him. The desperate determination he held all dissolved the moment he tumbled to the ground, like a puppet cut from its strings.
For a long agonizing stretch of time, Starlo lay there all alone. The Wild East, unaware that its sheriff had fallen.