I'm tied to a tree, dammit.

Sabine won't marry me. I know it for sure. I know it's got everything to do with what I'm not, and what she is. No matter what she says, I'll never be good enough for her. And here I am sounding like some poor heartbroken cuddy who's never had a woman before.
But by the Gods, where do I go from here?

I'm trussed and gagged, rough bark scraping the back of my neck.

The plan laid itself before me like the Eastern hills. It will be the hardest thing I've ever done in my whole life, even in all my years as a Dog. A Dog. There's no bitterer words for me now. If it weren't for me being a lousy sarden bum-licking pus-festering Dog, if it weren't for the rest of them, I would never have to do this. It would never be so hard.
It's no one's fault but theirs.

Ropes are cutting into my sides and my wrists. My very bones throb.

Now, truly, there is no going back, and that is fine with me. Soon, soon, soon the kingdom will be back where it should be, with me as High Chancellor and Sabine at my side. The mages even got sommat out of it.

The bindings feel like they're getting tighter. My breathing's getting shallower.

Curse them all, every last one of them, especially the swiving mage. I'd thought him a looby, picked him myself, and now it's like he knows, and he's doing everything to stop me. Curse them all, they have no idea, the scummer brains, if only I could've had Ironwood and Orielle with me there would be no need for this pointless yammering.

I press myself against the tree, the strong trunk, trying to shrink from the ties that are ruthlessly drawing me toward that place I dreaded. I watch myself attack the fighter I'd always protected, the one I'd watched grow from stumbling Fishpuppy into fierce Bloodhound, the partner I'd swore I'd shield from harm, the girl I loved like the daughter I knew I would never have, not now. I watched as she held her own, and deep own I felt a tiny glimmer of satisfaction that I'd taught her well enough for her to defeat me. At last I see a give in the ropes, a chance to slither out, and I roll frantically towards it, knowing I could not, will not face the shame that will come if I remain.
The ropes tighten.

The cold has finished with my bones and is now stealing through my brain, leaving blackness it its wake. I sink into it, hoping to find the end to the spider's web of nooses I'd woven myself. I'm denied that mercy.

I'm tied to a tree, dammit.

(A/N: Apologies for the sloppy writing and organization. I just finished Mastiff and still have very mixed feelings about it. I wanted to get this down before I forgot it in the midst of frenzied research-paper writing.)