Asmund was quivering with fear. His body still ached in a select few places from Isla's trampling, and he wasn't used to being exposed to the world for such long stretches of time. There was a desperate voice inside of him that begged he find cover immediately, and it screamed along his nerves, making it feel as though his very flesh were burning. It was exhausting, but he didn't know what else to do besides get through it. Hiding, barely existing didn't protect him the he hoped it would. He had to find a new way.
It had been whispered about for days, what had happened. The pack's leader, Archer's papa had been the one to stop the monster's tirade and even punished him for what he had done, sending him running. If anyone could teach Asmund how to be strong and defend himself, that was the wolf. He approached the vicinity of the pack's communal den nervously, practically on tiptoes and hoping to spy Viorel quickly so that he could feel some semblance of safety again without being buried beneath brush or earth or stone.