He had melted into the night, and they knew no more.
The warmth of the blood … the stars reaching down … on his knees against Guenhwyvar … floating up to become one with the stars, with eternity, with all …
The disconnected thoughts pulsed through Drizzt’s consciousness.
Dahlia had slain him, because he wouldn’t so kill her … Entreri intercepting, saving him, but not quite, apparently …
How had he come to this place, Bruenor’s Climb, atop the thousand-foot peak of Kelvin’s Cairn? His broken leg hadn’t carried him here, could not have carried him here.
Why didn’t his leg hurt?
He was drifting away then, and hearing once more the song-the same song he had heard in the enchanted forest on the eastern bank of Lac Dinneshere. The song of Mielikki, he knew in his heart and soul.
The song to call him home.
And who might be there?
His vision blurred. He put his head against Guenhwyvar’s muscled flank, feeling the warmth and strength of the dear panther.
“Don’t forget me,” he whispered.
He heard the song, and the low moan of the panther, and a voice … a voice from long ago, from another time and another life.
His vision crystallized around that sound, for one fleeting instant, and he saw her again, his beloved Catti-brie, and a flood of happiness washed through him.
For she was with the song, and the song beckoned him to join.
The strength left him.
Guenhwyvar cried out, long and low into the Icewind Dale night.
And Catti-brie was there beside him, hugging him and holding him, and he knew that it was all right to let go, to let himself fall, because Catti-brie would catch him.