Make Do

They were mostly safe in the redwater rocks, though the pack was very much still affected by the volcano's wrath. Bourbon was out in the open, searching for what plant life he could find after the eruption and winter’s tight grasp. The dog trotted along the temporary border confidently, his gaze in search of any desert plant that could be any kind of use. They managed to bring much of Ashen’s stockpile but much of it was used during the disaster.

He thought that he’d seen some usable herbs when he felt the earth begin to move under his feet. Most of what they felt here was aftershock, but this was intense. Bourbon tried to keep his balance, he’d try to more evenly distribute his weight as he bent his joint. To no avail though, the fluffy dog was thrown off his feet. His body didn’t stop, Bourbon landed on a slope and even while he scrambled to gain traction he slid over the lip.

The fall wasn’t terrible, he didn’t sustain any damage from the height he was dropped. However the ground he landed on was not all smoothed stone. He dropped and the extra momentum rocked his body back and into a sharp old log. The dog cried out in pain as his flesh was sliced open roughly. He wasn’t impaled, but the wood caused a huge gash to open up from his spine down his rib cage. There was a lot of bleeding, but the wound was blessedly shallow compared to how damaged he might have been.

The dog tried not to panic, but he whimpered softly with the pain as he looked up towards the way he had come. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to scale the wall to find help. Bourbon called out to the sky for assistance, worried no one would hear him.

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