Undertow

Before long they arrived to the den, and Sota was happy to collapse on the ground. When he'd first reclined on the borders of this pack's territories, he'd felt suddenly weighed down by exhaustion from his trip, but this? This was an entirely different kind of fatigue that overwhelmed him all at once as he fell carefully onto the soft furs that lined the den's floor. He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes - usually he was on high alert, but he had to trust that these wolves he'd approached were being honest with him. So far they seemed to be genuine.

The brief period of silence was broken by a female voice, announcing her presence before slipping inside. Tiredly he blinked his eyes, focusing on the female. He noted her size but he was too tired to spend much time considering just how easily she could likely squish him. He was utterly defenseless, but too tired to worry for very long about it. "Sota," he returned the introduction quietly, managing a faint smile. "I think I may have broken a leg. This one," he leaned up slightly and gestured to one of his hind legs; due to his position it was obvious it was the one he wasn't lying on.