The flight grew longer, but Felix had no intention of stopping. He tirelessly charged on, through cloud and sky, wishing to fly as far away as he could from where he was before, both from his heavenly and earthly troubles. Thinking hard all the while, he kept trying to tell himself that what Ophelia told him wasn't true, but he knew it was likely so. He flew blindly on now, both through clouds and ever-vibrant sky.
Eventually, though, even an angel got tired. It was a sudden need for rest, but one that Felix became aware he needed to fulfill. His back grew tired from maneuvering his wings, and his soul grew tired with every thought of hope that crossed his mind, not to mention the dread that would shoot that hope down afterwards, as it often can. He hadn't been flying for that long, either, but he knew he needed rest regardless. Far was he now from that place in Heaven where he was, anyhow. Now he could think things through.
What he came across when he landed was a sylvan wonder. This area of Heaven was a wide, wooded stretch, and it was so pleasantly of Earth that Felix would have been fooled into thinking that he was alive again, reborn unto the first morning. The dawn light was sufficiently shadowed and shielded by the trees, so the lion touched down, and took his repose where he could, beneath the biggest tree in sight, and felt himself doze off.
—
"What royal presence," a man said, waking Felix up, "in this part of the woods. Oh, my God."
"W— Huh, who's there? I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude," the lion stood now. He was in the same place he had fallen asleep, only now a collie was standing over him. Blinking, and rubbing his eyes, he gasped. It was who he had hoped for, and he was this close to deciding on giving this dog a kiss—
It wasn't Cameron, though. It was another collie. This much he could still tell, though with all the dogs there were in the world, this was merely a coincidence.
"King Felix. I had heard rumors of your death, Your Highness, though I know not how it came to be. I am honored, in any case, that you took refuge here in my woods," the dog said, apparently a Valentian.
"Thank you for allowing me to, despite my lack of permission," the King spoke. "Who are you?"
"My name is Orlando," the dog introduced, "and as I said, it is an honor. I feel further obliged to offer you further rest in my home, if it might be more comfortable."
"I accept, Orlando, kind soul," Felix replied. "It would help take my mind off of matters."
"I usually hunt to do that— to keep my mind happy," Orlando detailed, slightly lifting his bow. "I don't ever really need to, now, but it's my favorite thing to do. Up here I've been hunting like— well, like a king!" he chuckled with the last bit, seeing the royalty in front of him.
"I'll leave you to it, then, if I might know where your home is," the King asked.
"Over yonder. It isn't ever far," the canine pointed. "My wife, Isabella, would certainly be pleased to see you."
"Thank you," the lion smiled as he said, and started to head that direction. Indeed, in little time, he came out of the woods, and happened upon a wide clearing, and some well-spaced houses. Besides the backdrop of a pastoral paradise, it looked like the edge of the city of Valentia, with the farmers' fields and the small merchants he had seen on his various errands around. Outside of one, a collie woman with a splotched fur pattern was reading a book, turning the pages quickly, yet calmly.
"Greetings. Isabella, was it?" the King spoke.
Clutching her chest in shock, Isabella looked up, and saw who she knew, yet couldn't believe, it was. "Oh! A King, on my doorstep. Oh, why are you here, of all places in Heaven? King Felix!" she excitedly yelped, hopping down onto her knees and bowing.
"There is no need for such formality here, madam," the King shook his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I simply happened upon these woods as a place to rest."
"Why are you not upon your heavenly throne, if you've died? Where's Queen Ophelia, then?" the collie woman worriedly asked. "How is it you perished, even? Oh, don't tell me Valentia is in trouble without you!"
The King felt guilt and sadness build in his throat, as he shook his head. "No. I left it in good hands. The circumstances of my death make for a long story. It has been a rough time for me."
"Rest easy, then," Orlando urged, returning from the hunt, a gamebird slung on his shoulder. "How grateful I feel. O, paradise! Being with my love, having plenty to hunt, and meeting our King. There is nothing more to be asked for," he contently barked, and leaned down to plant a kiss on his wife's cheek.
"Save some for me," Isabella jokingly requested.
The King felt a sweet happiness, but also a jealousy. "Most of my sadness stems from the fact that my love is nowhere to be found."
"Oh, no. Is it that you are without Ophelia?" Orlando sympathetically whined.
"No. She is here, and as delightful as ever, and I was ever glad to see her again. Yet it was not her," Felix affirmed.
"Ah. It was someone else, then," the collie husband deduced.
"A collie, like you two," Felix nodded.
"Well. We have no daughters," Isabella shook her head, "and if we did, they'd sure know not to have such an irresponsible affair with a king, though I would be proud she'd manage to woo someone like you, Felix," she chuckled as she said.
"It was— oh, forget it all. I should just be happy to be here," the King avoided any hard answers that would come from such a clarification. These kind canines deserved more than just a woeful presence from their ruler. "Might I do anything for you, while I have my stay here?"
"I don't believe so," Isabella said.
"Well, you could save a trip for me," her husband thought. "Go unto our field."
"A field? Good God. I shouldn't think you'd have to work in the fields of Paradise," a worried lion said.
"No, we never do! But how pretty it is. Just find my son, wherever he might be in there," Orlando instructed, after explaining.
The lion smiled, and mewled politely: "Surely. And your son's name, so I know what to call?"
"Cameron," Isabella sighed as she answered, and held her hands to her chest again. "My dearest boy. How sad it is he apparently passed, now, so young— and he wouldn't at all say why. He has been so forlorn in that field, since he arrived here not long ago."
Felix's feline eyes widened, and he stood tall now, as he heard such a joyous confirmation. He suddenly roared out in glee, a wide smile appearing beneath his shining whiskers, and, without further delay, began to run out to this aforementioned field. "OH!" he roared out in wordless glee.
"Yea, that's his name— oh, where— Your Highness? Now, wherefore had he gotten such an excitement to see our son?!" Orlando stammered, confused as to why the King was so overjoyed.
Isabella, however, made the right assumption, and was amazed, seeing the lion sprint away. "I think— well, I shouldn't say anything yet," she nearly answered her husband's question, but didn't want to be hasty. The couple watched as the King made his hasty advance into the tall-grassed plain.
As tired as Felix might have been, never had he felt more energized to pursue something as he did now, combing through this field. The sweetest of tears ran down his face, as he roared in equal joy, so anxious to find his loving dog. What aided him, and what even further joyed him, was the sound that pierced through the air, and rang so vibrantly in his ears, of a lute's strings being plucked, and a voice reverberating in the freshest open air. It was a slow, reminiscing song, which sounded so familiar to Felix that he could probably recognize it if it, would he hear it better.
When it couldn't get any louder, Felix slowed, and turned aside the last of the grass before a small clearing:
A golden-winged, white-clad, teary-eyed collie had taken his seat on a stone. His shining, golden wings were defeated in shimmer only by his radiant halo, earned by a most faithful soul, due to his earthly dedicated works of harmony and devotions to God, all free from corruption, and also to such peace and goodwill. He wore no vain jewelry, but he wore his hair as long as it had been on the last day of his life. He stopped now, though, seeing a sight he thought he never would.
The two stared for a moment, the wind of the field and the song of the birds being the only music now. Felix's jaw hung. Despite the splendorous decoration, he instantly recognized who it was.
"You're here far sooner than I expected," Cameron began, looking in surprise at the feline in front of him, too much in disbelief for his sadness to yet fade. "I was willing to wait."
"I'm sorry, Cameron..." Felix groaned, hearing this. "I just thought I couldn't go on without you, in my own stupid haste. And I thought I'd lost you, too, I didn't know where you had gone. Yet I was the one who did all this in the first place, it— It's ALL my fault, Cameron. I'm so sorry," he bemoaned in a deep yawl, struggling to get words out.
The canine angel put his lute down, hopped up from the rock he sat on, and ran over to tightly hug his husband. With this, Felix once again felt what it was like to run his hand through his sweet lover's fur, and Cameron, in turn, delved his snout right back into the golden mane it belonged, weeping with sheer gratitude.
"I'm right here," the collie replied, between deep inhales. "I'm right here, and I forgive you infinitely. So long as you're here, it doesn't matter now."
"I love you so much. More than anything. More than this Heaven," Felix now expressed, holding his husband all the more tight. "If I only had you, it would be enough."
Felix looked back down... and shrouded the collie angel with his own wings. They each knelt, holding each other within the confines of this feathery view-shield for a few tender minutes. Then, they both unfurled their wings, letting themselves gleam in the sunlight of God's kingdom. Looking to the higher heavens, they then kissed as passionately as they could muster.
"I love you, Felix."
"I love you too, Cameron."
No further sorrows were there, so none could be said, as they took up their wings, and flew unto the center of the Valentian domain of Heaven, Isabella and Orlando watched on, and their suspicions were confirmed: Two lovers were now heading home.
All sadness faded; all pain was relieved, and all doubt was cast away. Mortal tears became the morning dew, and aching memories of torn flesh and pooled blood now becoming only those of bread broken and wine poured. Of course, there was no mourning, no crying, no pain, for those things had passed away, replaced with His unending love and joy; such was the nature of this place.