Fireweed Rise Morning Rise

It was several minutes before he looked back again. His tormentor was gone with scarcely a trace left to indicate she'd ever been there. He licked his chops again. He couldn't go any further while he was bleeding like this. He sank to his knees and allowed the softest of gasps to escape his lips as he moved his wounded limb. Vittani's fangs had sunk deep into his flesh - the holes were nearly perfect. He had pulled a little, resulting in some of the torn fur and skin around the wound, but it was otherwise relatively clean. Wincing, he began to lick tenderly. The bleeding - he'd need to stop that. But in the dead of winter, what could he use to help staunch the flow?

Teketa was bitterly aware of the sun beginning to peek over the horizon at last, but he couldn't look at it, couldn't even open his eyes to it. He must've dozed in that time, for he remembered nothing but a blackness then. He was not a spiritual wolf. He refused to believe in spirits whether they existed or not. He had never seen good come from such beliefs. But in that blackness, he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

Get up, Love! Get up! Go north. Don't give up, not yet!

He jolted awake - what few minutes he slept was enough for him. At least for now. He had run away with worse wounds before. He would not be defeated now. "Dawn?" His eyes twitched, up toward the sun, to his foreleg, to the north. Enough of this - he would go north. Until he was saved. Or until he died.

{Exit}

(This post was last modified: Apr 17, 2013, 07:27 PM by Teketa.)