Parfait,he growled, his voice raw and distorted, sounding nothing like himself.
Parfait. Aveugles et de la douleur. Je n'ai jamais été aussi vulnérable.
Trust me everything will be alright.
After a moment he collected himself and looked up. The female was gone, he realised. What had she said? I'll be back in an hour...
she had assured. Pourquoi? he thought as another shudder shook his feeble frame. Why does she care?
She doesn't, a firm voice echoed in the back of his head. C'était un mensonge Elle ne se soucie pas de vous. Shut up,
Rievaulx spat, silencing the voice for a moment.
What a sight: a lonely, skinny, mangled wolf talking to himself in the middle of the bloody glen. Rievaulx closed his eyes and opened them quickly again, fearing his vision would disappear if he kept his eyes closed for too long. The fuzzy dark stars continued to dance around the corners of his eyes, flirting and distracting in his peripheral vision. Thinking of what would happen if he were to lose his vision, he felt his heart skip a beat. Vulnérabilité was not a characteristic Rievaulx cared to possess, as he often scored those who were more tender and sensitive than he perceived himself to be. The fact of the matter was that Rievaulx was, in fact, a fragile creature, as his physique was naturally rather small and slender. Pursuit of game often left him winded, and attacking creatures larger than himself often ended in a hideous mess, as seen in today's incident. Had Narimé not have been present in the glen, the cougar would have most certainly had skinny Rievaulx hors d'oeuvre followed by venison.
In a fruitless attempt to ease the pain, Rievaulx lowered himself to the ground and rested on his afflicted side. The stars continued to dance before his eyes. This is it!
he moaned, his voice echoing through the glen and into the forest beyond. Je vais mourir!