God, he was so exhausted. The trip toward Wild Rye Fields only to have his heart (and shoulder) smashed in the process, coupled with Kisla dying and the emotionally draining meeting and having the kitten go missing... it was far too much for a man who rarely felt any feelings at all. Or, at least, for a man who rarely expressed feelings. Aytigin may have wished and pretended that he had none, but the fact was that he simply refused to express them in honesty.
Perhaps his life would be easier if he just felt nothing at all.
He had done his best for Hearthwood. He'd given them his all for the better part of the year, and he intended to continue to do just that. But he couldn't help but feel like the odd man out within the pack itself. It was no surprise or secret that he was... different than everyone else. His life - his upbringing - had been completely different. It seemed as though most (if not all) of the others had experience with other packs, or had been born into the pack itself.
Maybe... this had been the wrong choice.
The man's paws had brought him to the border, his steps uneven and halting because of his wrenched - swollen - shoulder. He placed his massive paws right on the edge, looking out into the forest beyond, but not crossing. It felt... stifling, to say the least. To give so much to a group of wolves who merely tolerated his presence and demanded him to change so drastically. They hadn't said it out loud, but if he let show any semblance of his personality, it was met with hostility and aggression.
But if the River couldn't accept him, maybe nobody would.
Cottongrass sure hadn't.
One thing was for sure - he would never allow himself to consider developing feelings for any wolf ever again. All that trust and joy and... affection, with so much possibility for more, was gone in an instant. Replaced with nothing but a pink scar on his temple as a grim reminder that anything resembling love or emotion was doomed to fail.
And to think Aytigin had been willing to give that a shot.
He longed to run. Wanted to run off and never come back - to get away from all of this responsibility and law and wolves that didn't actually give a shit about him, when he cared so much more than he'd ever admit. He wasn't cut out for this life - not really. Maybe all of his efforts would continually give him nothing in return for the rest of his whole damned life.