Earth's Pull

Pnuma stayed blissfully unaware of the entire procedure, instead dreaming of chasing rabbits across the grasslands, the wind tugging playfully against his fur. The spirits were not present in this short time of rest, finally giving him some time alone from their constant presence. It was nice to have his mind relatively empty, to be able to concentrate fully on something that wasn't the voices in his head. He would sleep forever if he could, but a voice pulled him from the fields and back into reality. Back to the constant noise of the anxious spirits.

Pnuma had trouble keeping his eyes fully open, only half-lidded as he looked up at the female. He didn't register what she was saying first, his head too fuzzy to be taking in information, but he didn't need to. All he heard was 'broken' and 'my band', but that was all he needed to figure out what was happening. Fear swelled in his chest. His leg was broken! He didn't want to leave with this almost stranger into an unknown land, but he didn't have a choice. He knew close to nothing about broken limbs other than not to move them. If he wandered off, no doubt would the bones fuse wrong or something of a similar sort. It took him a long moment to reply, both the sedatives and the conflict going on inside his head delaying his answer.

"It's fine... I understand..." He mumbled, his voice both slurred and melancholy. His muscles strained in protest and he slowly got into a sitting position. He felt unstable and exhausted, similar to a drunk with too much alcohol. The anesthetic still had quite the hold on him, seemingly only worn off enough to give him consciousness and little motor skills.