wishing death upon a fallen star

Everything was a blur. A wild, wild blur of life that spaced out days. Infinite were the sands of time for a wolf that could not tell it. His eyes could barely keep themselves open as he wandered the lands in search. He wanted to feed the voices in his head. Whispering lingering thoughts of murder and pain. Keep going, they told him. Find someone to end the suffering, they urged. Continued to urge as he made his way through Boreas. Unknown to him, he had ended up back north. Trees loomed over him, dancing shadows enveloping his body as his yellow eyes darted back and forth.

Opened abscesses coated his mottled body with draining ooze and blood. The wound procured by his own doing upon his forehead was still split open and crystallized. Every step his paw took squelched with the sound of mud and ooze beneath him. His whole body coated in the goo would not go away. No matter how many times he rubbed himself with his paws or the rough bark of a tree, it never lamented. Gil didn't care anymore. He only wanted the reprieve of sweet death. It wouldn't come to him. Fight upon fight with others, imaginary specters, and himself, his heart would not stop beating.

Gone was the thought that he possibly had feelings for that girl. He had not come across her again since their trek up the mountain. Possibly that had been a good thing. He couldn't hurt her if he stayed away. Deep growls lurched up to his throat as his thinned body bristled with fury. In a frenzy, Gil whipped around. Every hair on his body that wasn't matted stood on end as he flashed ooze-covered teeth. Lowering his head as ghosts danced before his eyes, he thought he had seen someone following him. Letting loose a pained howl into the aurora-filled sky, Gil froze. "If you're following me, come out now," he hissed, his voice weak and gurgling as he spat out more ooze from his tongue. Would this pain ever end?

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