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You shifted the car into gear and rampaged down the winding cliffside roads. I grasped tight to your shoulder and stammered something - I don't quite remember what it was anymore - while you laughed and laughed and sped along faster than you should have.

"Relax," you told me in that sweet and melancholic voice, "You know me."

I did. You were reckless and clumsy, and you always got yourself into trouble. But in your own silly way, you always took care of me. I had no reason to be scared - not tonight, at least.

And so I eased back into my seat, letting go of your shoulder so that you could drive in peace. Instead I turned my focus out the window, away from that dark winding road. I remember a sheer rockface to our left, as imposing as it was menacing; and to our right the vast sea, shimmering under the light of the moon and a thousand stars and painted with splotches of an blue iridescent glow, stretching to an endless horizon.

It was like something out of a fantasy book. I then poked you in the arm, and when you met me with that small smile you always carried, I turned your attention to the sea. It's nothing you'd never seen before, but you played along all the same. I always appreciated that about you - playing along when you didn't have to.

"It's not as bright tonight," you told me, and I cast my gaze back at the sea. It scrolled by slowly as we drove along the cliffs. "You've really never been here before?"

Never. But that no longer mattered. I was there, and it was wonderful.

Another car sped by us - another group of people just like us. I wondered then if they too looked on to the sea and thought about what lay out there.

"Just you wait," you told me, and again you focused on the road, "We're almost there."

You were always a bad judge of time. 'Almost there' certainly meant at least another hour of driving, and that was alright. I had you there to guide me along, and you had me to keep you company. The silence was alright too. It was good to just coast along to our thoughts. You asked me if I was comfortable, and I nodded in agreement. A little music would be nice - nothing too loud. Just something that'll fit the mood.

And so we rode on, you with your singular focus on the task at hand and I with my wondering eyes looking at everything that caught my attention. Eventually though, I found my gaze settled to a bright spot in the sky. A single star that twinkled and glowed ever brighter with each passing hour.

It wouldn't be long now. I nudged your shoulder and told you as such - it'd be a shame to miss the spectacle. Not like I was trying to hurry you along, I wouldn't dare tell you to drive even faster, but you took no offense to it. Again, with that cool voice you carried, you told me to relax.

"We're almost there."

To your credit, you were right this time. As you spoke those words you pulled the truck into a sharp turn, taking us off-road and up a hill. It was a bumpy ride; I had to hang on to the sides of my seat just to keep myself from jumping about, but eventually the road smoothed out. The sound of crackling rocks and crunching gravel died away, and to my surprise, I found that you'd halted right at the edge of a cliff.

"This is it."

You stepped out first and yawned and stretched your arms out high overhead, your yellow eyes glinting under the stars when you turned to me and motioned with a wave of your hand to come along. I left all my belongings in the truck, my phone and my wallet, and even the baseball cap I usually wore, and jumped out into your waiting arms. You always gave the best hugs.

Then, with one of your long furred arms still wrapped around my shoulders, you waved at the view ahead. There was a cheeky grin plastered across your face - you knew exactly what you were doing. I fell for it, and I wasn't afraid to admit it. And then you had the nerve to ask me what I thought of it.

What did I think of it?

What would I say to a surreal view I'd only ever really seen in my dreams, or witnessed in a movie, or imagined in a book? There it was, the vast and endless sea stretching out far into the horizon, unspoiled by rocks or isles or any man-made structure. Its iridescent blue glow - something about glowing bacteria, I remember you explaining - complimented the shine and reflection of the moon and the stars perfectly. Silver and blue. Who knew such a sight had ever existed. And then off to the side, on the far left, there was the winding cliffs we'd been traveling along. I loved watching the rock wall get lit up by the occasional passing headlights of cars, whose occupants would never know they were being watching but for a small moment of their journey.

What did I think of all this - this breathtaking, awe-inspiring view you'd brought me to?

I just leaned closer into your tall, large, comfortable body and shook my head. There were no words - nothing I could say that would do the view justice. But I felt the need to try; at the very last, I owed you that much.

In as few words as I could muster, I spoke my thought. "It is spectacular." And then I swatted the back of your leg with my tail when you chuckled under your breath, "I think... I think this might be my favourite place in the world."

I hadn't been to many places, so it probably didn't mean much to you, but to me this was everything.

Like the proper gentleman you liked to pretend to be, you took me by the hand and led to the back of the pickup truck. You'd set it up perfectly for tonight. There were large cushions sprawled about the truck's bed so that we wouldn't have to sit on the cold and hard and dirty steel, and you'd even brought some blankets for the cold. We sat down beside one another, and from a small cooler you fetched to cold cans of beer; one for me and one for you.

It wasn't the sort of treatment you'd give to the queen. Others might have scoffed at the sight, called it cheap without knowing any better. But I knew you'd tried your best, all things considered.

The beer burned cold against my throat and sat warm in my stomach. My small sips paled in comparison to the large gulps you took, as if you were drinking from a bottle of water. I glanced in your direction - quickly, I didn't want to miss the spectacle - and told you to slow down. We had all night; there wasn't a need to rush things.

In an almost comical fashion you apologized to me and started to drink a little less desperately. Good enough for me. I eased into your side, and you did the same to me, and I finally asked the question that had been burning in my thoughts for the last few days before this little trip.

I looked at you, studied that sharp profile of your lupine head, and asked; "Are you scared?"

You didn't turn to look at me. You just looked up at the stars - at the one star that had gotten our attention, that seemed to burn even brighter still, and a little larger. For a long while you didn't reply; I knew you were just trying to find the right words.

Maybe you thought about telling me a lie, so as to not frighten me. I could tell by the way your expression shifted: your brows perked up, then furrowed, and finally collapsed unto your sunken eyes; your lips pursed tight like your jaw, your muzzle parting open as if you wanted to tell me something before closing again; and your gaze twitched, uncertain - you looked everywhere but at me.

As much as you tried, none of your ideas seemed to work better than the truth. I patted your leg - hopefully it reassured you a little - to silently tell you that I could handle the truth.

We've been through worse, and we survived.

"I'm terrified."

The answer I'd been expecting all along. The words that left your mouth lacked that confident air you always carried with you. Again, you couldn't even bring yourself to look at me. Instead you busied yourself with another deep gulp of your beer - I did the same, and suppressed a chocked cough.

Your voice wavered and cracked, and you visibly deflated for a second. A part of me almost regretted asking you that question, but I was glad that I did. This was a side of you I hadn't seen too often. Not for lack of honesty - you were always good in that regard - but because you were always so closed off, even when you didn't want to. That's just how life's many circumstances taught you to be.

Seeing you this vulnerable made me want to hold you in my arms. But you looked comfortable enough the way you were, wrapped in a blanket and cradling a can of beer in your hand. I settled for sticking to your side.

"And you?"

Your question was something I'd been thinking about for a very long time. The answer was simple: yes, and no.

"It's going to happen," I told you, finally drawing your wonderful eyes toward me, "so why be scared? Besides, it's going to be quite the sight."

At that, you nodded and somehow managed a laugh. It warmed my heart to know that my own words could ease you so.

"At the same time," I continued after a long pause and a couple more sips of that cold can of beer you'd given me, "I don't really know what's going to happen. Will it be painless, or will it hurt? Is there something on the other side, or do things just... stop?" I shrugged my shoulders, not out of indifference but simply because I had no answers to any of my questions. You just stayed silent and listened - I'll forever be thankful for that. "Will it be loud, a deafening sound... sort of like an explosion, or is this going to be a silent affair? Will things get really hot, or really cold, or will it all just stay as it is now? Will there be a bright flash of light? And how many other people -"

It was then that I forced myself to stop. If I thought about them, I'd only get sad. I didn't want this to be a sad moment, even if circumstances were trying to dictate otherwise.

You drew your arm around me and squeezed my shoulder with that large hand.

"I guess I'm just confused," I finally finished off as I laid my head down on your square shoulder. You nodded. "How much longer?"

We had no right way of knowing. A nervous excitement bubbled in my chest. You looked at your watch - the time read 2:47 AM - and shrugged. It could have been within the next ten minutes, or the next couple of hours.

What else was there to say, then? What could we have told one another that we hadn't already shared before?

Not much, apparently, because we opted to simply lay back on the truck bed, huddled into those plush cushions, to stare up at the stars. We tried to busy ourselves by pointing out the various constellations that dotted the night sky, yet that wasn't enough to distract us from that one bright star.

It sat bigger in the sky now. Brighter than it had been before. And it grew larger with every passing second.

Not much longer now. I felt it in my gut.

"Are you ready?"

Your question took me aback. Was I ready? No. I shook my head accordingly and returned the same question back at you. Comfortingly enough, you replied the same way. You weren't ready either - but then who really was ready for a time like this? No amount of time could prepare anyone for the inevitable.

"It'll be a spectacle," you murmured. We were on our third can each by now - our last cans, so we had to make them count.

I remembered how you proposed this little idea. I remembered how angry, and sad, and confused I was with you when you called it that word. 'Spectacle'. I remembered wanting to hit you, since maybe that would knock some sense into you.

And... I finally stopped, and thought, and realized that you weren't so far off from the truth. In the end, even I took to calling it a coming spectacle. The sight would be unlike anything we had ever seen before - unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.

You refused to tell me where we'd go. I just knew we'd be going somewhere unique; somewhere I'd never been to before. That could have been anywhere, but you brought me here. This place really was perfect.

Our quiet corner, at the end of the world.

And such a perfect view of the sky.

"They say," you spoke in a soft murmur. The chirping of crickets and the distant roar of the sea wasn't enough; you felt the need to fill that oppressive silence. You needed this, and I think I needed it too. Listening to you talk eased a weight off my shoulders; "that it's going to - you know..." With one arm still wrapped around my shoulders you held both hands out in front of me, and then expanded them out toward the sky. Like an explosion. "... Just, everywhere. The whole sky will be filled."

We didn't know that. Nobody did. That had all been speculation.

As much as I liked the sound of your voice, I didn't want to talk about it. Just seeing it constantly in the sky, looming closer, was enough for me. Instead I shifted our conversation somewhere I didn't think you were going to like, but I felt it was important. I didn't want us - I didn't want you to go on with unnecessary baggage. I bumped your cheek with my snout and asked you if there were any regrets.

I had to have been the last person in the world who had the right to ask that question. Some part of you must have known, but you refrained from stating the obvious. Instead you gave my question its due thought, as painful as it might have been to dredge up old memories. You understood the importance of this, regardless of whether there would be anything on the other end.

"I could list a few." So could I, but it was your turn to talk. Maybe, if we had some time left, I'd reciprocate the gesture. I wouldn't mind leaving with baggage, as long as it meant I helped unburden yours. "I'm not a very good person."

You shouldn't say things like that. I remember frowning, for all the good that did, but held my tongue and let you talk. You busied yourself with your last can of beer - it'd long since ran dry, but it kept you busy while you thought - and sighed with some uncertainty.

"I did a lot of stupid things and hurt a lot of good people along the way. You - you wouldn't know them. That was really, well, a very long time ago."

What else? I nudged your leg a little. You still had some time left.

"I wish we'd done more."

For a second my heart hitched on my chest. I had to take a drink of beer to keep myself from saying the first thing that came to mind.

"I-I mean, we've done plenty. More than a lot. I just... there's a lot I wanted to show you." You pointed out to the horizon. The sea itself seem to thunder in response. "Things like this. Or... things we could have done. I don't know - I'm not making much sense."

"It's alright," I told you, "you're making perfect sense."

You smiled at that. Then your face dropped, you frowned, and your eyes sparked with the first signs of tears.

"I'm not ready."

"I know," I whispered back, and finally I held you in my arms. You needed this.

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know."

"I don't think we'll ever see each other again." A half-sob, choked out at the end by your attempt to hide it, fell out of your lips. You buried your head into the side of neck, nuzzling that furry snout into me, and breathed. I could feel your tears, fresh and warm, tricking into my fur.

"... I know."

I hugged you tighter, rubbed and patted your back, massaged your shoulders - anything to help you. It was hard to hold myself together. I had never seen you like this before. Only once, I thought to myself, and that so very long ago I couldn't rightly recall what had caused it anymore.

Selfishly enough, I delighted in seeing you cry. Maybe I was a bit of a heartless beast for thinking it, but I knew, deep down, that I was but one a very small number of people that had seen you so vulnerable.

I hushed you as your breath hitched, reassured you with as much as I could have, and then looked up at the sky.

"It's time."

So much time had passed, it seemed. I dared not look at our clock. Nothing could have torn my eyes away from the spectacle. You finally brought yourself away from my neck and looked to where I was, your hand on mine, our fingers twined together.

There it was - that great star that fell from the sky. A massive ball of flaming fire that loomed closer over our heads. So big it was, even from a distance, that I could hardly begin to comprehend its true size. I was left breathless, and without words. A trail of fire spouted out from the back, thousands of miles long, reaching high into the atmosphere and up to space.

And then, as if it had known we'd be watching, the rock splintered, fragmented, and expanded so wide over the skyscape that it blanketed out every other star and lit up the sky in a sea of orange and red and yellow. Fire in the sky. A million different stars now, all trailing their own little snake of fire, and all of them falling to the earth.

There was no sound. There was no heat. There was just the spectacle.

"Amazing," I breathed, and followed the first few fragments as they lazily glided overhead, tilting my head and then falling back on the bed of the truck. You did the same, still holding my hand, and nodded in response.

"Amazing."

You didn't look at me, but squeezed my hand.

"See you on the other side?"

I nodded in silence, found my breath, and watched as the stars fell from the sky.