Anthem of the Lonely
The minute the girl had woken up from her ordeal, she had managed somehow, to drag herself to her feet. Her left foreleg hung limply, painfully, the back of her neck and shoulders bleeding profusely from the torn skin and muscles made by the fangs of both the shadow cat and the bloody male. She hadn't been awake when they left, and it was now an hour or so before dawn. After this night...there was no way she would stay in those mines. Never did she want to step foot in there for as long as she lived.
Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered and cried, hobbling as quickly as she could to get away from there. The storm hasn't completely stopped, but it slowed enough for her to be able to leave without getting lost again or running into the man. But she didn't know which way he went. And through her terror, she couldn't remember his scent. Didn't want to remember that night. Her broken and bloody trail was left behind in her wake, but she pressed on painfully slow.
As the sun peaked between the mountainside behind her, she was beginning to grow tired. Her battered body was getting tired, and she wanted to sleep. She knew she had to patch herself up, but where would she find those kinds of herbs in the north? For now, she wanted to just find a sheltered place to sleep. That was when she spotted trees towering higher then she'd ever seen before, and as quickly as she could she headed straight towards them. She needed to hide, what if they came looking for her!? It terrified her more then anything, so she hobbled and stumbled along.
After a half hour of searching, she found a hollowed out opening in the base of a tree, another tree leaning against it creating another layer of shelter. Timidly, she approached as she carefully sniffed the air, nothing. She crawled inside, curling up against the far wall and lying on her right side, and proceeded to carefully lick at the bite wounds on her leg. Why did this happen to her? Tired and exhausted, her head slid onto the snow, tears falling more and more until she fell into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing. She wanted her dad. Her mom. Vaishya and Cador...just...why? |
With Olafur up on his shoulders Odysseus followed the smell of blood. His hackles were raised in a rigid line and his head hung low as he trailed the concerning scent. That was wolf's blood. Normally he would chalk it up to wolves being wolves and think nothing of it while hunting down the wounded in order to offer aid, but something about this situation felt different. He couldn't explain the feeling, but he couldn't shake it either. "There," Olafur murmured with a point of his finger just as the sound of sobbing reached Odysseus' ears. His apprehension grew. "Olafur...?" He glanced back at his friend. "I have the bag, Odysseus." The bag in question was a small skin stuffed to the brim with plants and mending supplies that Olafur was hugging to his chest. Respectful of the wounded wolf's space Odysseus kept his distance. Forever a low rumble, his voice rang out, "Are you alright, miss?" |