Dead by Night...

Jakart felt as if he drifted across the whole world as evening slipped to night, and night to a few moments before dawn. It had all been pain, choking and sputtering on vile water as he rolled onto his side and drifted along the flooded territory amidst the waves of the floodwaters. He didn't even know where he was anymore ever since he'd been struck by that branch and carried away. His mind was as adrift as his body had been. A part of him just wanted to float there, remain motionless and just see what fate had in store for him. Constantly being battered and bruised reminded the grey wolf that he was at least alive, for now. But what kept him was the will to see his brothers. His sisters. Callisto. The black she wolf was his friend. The reason he was here and the reason he wasn't going to give up on living. He wanted to rest though, one ear hearing the swirling calm beneath the water and the other the full roar of the tides. It was the quieter option that he decided to venture towards and try to escape from the flood, breath slowly leaving his nose before it bubbled away as Jakart sank beneath the rushing water with but a single wash of a wave.
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When he opened his eyes it became apparent immediately that he was no longer drifting. In fact he was surrounded by sweet plains grass and the breezes brushing the tops of the fields that drew him to stand up with a start. Jakart shook his damp pelt to rid himself of water but not even a drop fell from his mussy fur. A sigh left him as he reclined on his haunches and a hind leg came up to scratch his throat. The wound on his neck didn't hurt per-say, but as his claws trailed through the wet fur the damage was felt. Water... he needed water to clean himself off and inspect just how badly he was torn up. Without much to go on Jakart simply headed in the direction the thicker grass grew, either ground water or a river ran close by.

Just idly did he spy the tree in the distance atop a hill, it's obvious familiarity lost in the immediate objective needing to be attained as the sounds of a gurgling creek drew him to hobble further along. The pine trees grew thicker, more familiar as he ignored everything in his dash to water. Stopping from almost a dead sprint Jak anxiously peered over and into the mirror surface of the river and turned his neck. At first it seemed a lot worse that it was. His shoulder was torn and ragged, an almost wishbone shaped gash had swollen his right eye shut with both lacerations to either side, the tail end stopping along the middle down his neck. With a grimace the grey wolf turned away and sat down with a shiver of his limbs as he thought about Callisto.