Sex: MaleEyes blinked open into bright sunlight, for a moment seeing nothing but white, but then the world slowly blurred into view; I’m… alive? His last memories certainly spoke to the contrary, as did the substantial pool of dried blood covering the grass beneath him. And yet, the longer he laid there, taking in slow, deep breaths, the more he felt everything . He had no idea how long he’d been out – it could be the next morning or several days later – all he knew was that his body was dead stiff, and even the smallest attempt to move sent jolts of pain through every fibre. It felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of caribou; Only that would have been less humiliating! Vasco seethed as he remembered the fight and how he had once again failed to complete his mission of getting even with Sanguine Cove; Still two to zero… The pain in his shoulder mixed with that in his heart as he remembered his most recent loss; I need to get home…! Trying to stand proved a true struggle though, as his right leg refused to respond to his commands, every twitch of the muscles in his shoulder and neck making the whole area burn with pain; This won’t be easy… He’d had to drag himself across the meadow rather than walk properly, most of his right side limp and even his head drooping as his neck failed to support its weight. By sunset he had only come an achingly short way and it was clear that getting all the way to the Backwater on his own was impossible. At this point his anger had been dulled by the pain, leaving him in an exhausted state of numbness. He needed a place to rest, and potentially hide out for several days until his family, hopefully, found him. The last rays of the sun were shining through the first trees of the Wildwood up ahead, casting their long shadows across the grass. All Vasco saw, however, was shelter and he tiredly stumbled his way into the small pocket, pleased to find the ground covered in thick, soft moss. Here, he had made himself a bed, under the branches of a young willow, offering some protection for prying eyes; The best I can get… Thoughts ”Speech” |
(I knew what I wanted, I went in and got it, did all of the things that you said that I wouldn't)
It was the farthest he'd ever come, and likely the last time he would ever dare to push his luck so. The scent of blood would have sent him fleeing home without a second thought had he not recognized it's source. @Viorel's dad... ? His muscles had locked up reactively, for it was still difficult to convince himself to venture forward rather than turning tail. He tried to remember the cougar, and his training, and the faith his adoptive father clearly had in him. Even if there was danger, he was meant to be equipped to handle it.
Stiffly, step by measured step, Az finally began to move again. Overly cautious, ready to fight (or flight) at a moment's notice. He reached the curtain of willow boughs and hesitated, unable to help but wonder if it could possibly be a trap. The monster's eyes flashed within his head and he gritted his fangs.
"Hello?!" a bit more forcefully than needed, but at least he'd gotten it out.
"Mr. Vasco?"
I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING
He was dozing, drifting in and out of fever dreams, occasionally catching a whiff of scent or hint of sound from the surrounding world. They would weave themselves into his nightmares, mixing with shifting images of a bloody fur and dark shadows chasing him through ragged mountains, waking him every few hours in fits of panting and ragged breathing. As such, the gruff voice didn’t seem that strange at first, just another distorted fragment of his nightmares. But when it spoke his name, in such a strangely polite manner, Vasco was drawn back to reality, and he woke with a gasp. Wide, mercury eyes darted around his little hideout, ears swivelling frantically to find the threat. For a moment he was panicked, certain that some vengeful ghost or spirit had found his refuge, but then he spotted the glint of brown fur through the willow branches. Narrowing his eyes, Vasco held still as if dead, trying to calm his breathing to avoid making any noise. It took several minutes before he finally remembered to use his nose, sniffing long and deep for any hint of scent from whoever was out there, and then a sigh of relief fell from his lips; The orphan…! It wasn’t the pack mate he would have most preferred to find him, but at least it was not an enemy. “Yes, Asmund…” he answered, voice hoarse and creaky, quickly followed up by a coughing fit, sending burning darts of pain through his neck and shoulder; Damn all this! He still felt weak as a deer kid; I’m going to need a lot more help… Thoughts ”Speech” |