Little Hell
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Yale felt his world shatter around him in an instant. Dragoste was gone and Ganta… “No.” He choked, feeling his eyes begin to burn with hot tears. “No it…It can’t be…” His head lowered, his body heaving wildly as he fought and lost the battle to keep himself from breaking out into tears. His jaws clenched, the woman and her lovely touch far away as his body glided weightlessly into despair.
Never in his life had Yale been faced with the possibility of losing his pack; His family had stood beside the liege lord of Bromos for generations and the order of the templars had been upheld for centuries- or so he had been told- To find now that the pack he had promised to fight for was now gone and that the man he had pledged his life for was now dead- and without leaving a mark on this Amon- this warlord- the harbinger of destruction. Ganta had died- not a warrior’s death, but a fool’s.
The woman’s gentle voice just barely reached him; “Would you like me to tend to any wounds so you don't have to suffer the treatment of my kin and infection?" and for a moment he looked stunned. “Am I not a captive? Why be so kind to me?” He asked, his voice hoarse and cracked. “If you can and you will then do.”He said, and laid his head down slowly on the mossy bedding, he had calmed considerably but the pain in his heart was still evident on his face and the slow raspy breaths he took.
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