Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes

How did the Warlord find himself back down this familiar path? It was late in the night, and the Warlord had broken into the pitiful stash of alcohol he kept in his storeroom. Scooping up what they had, and downing much of it by the time he reached the Starlit plains. He was well drunk by the time he arrived at the border. Perhaps more so than he had ever been in his life.

His body swayed and stumbled as his paws refused to take the right steps beneath him. He stumbled to a stop at the border, falling on his rump as the world around him swayed. The stars in the night sky blurred into one big mash of white and black. He was hard pushed to pull his eyes back away from it and turn back to the border. He eyed the scent markers dubiously. What was he supposed to do at this point again? He stayed a moment, his body swaying slowly as he struggled to remember exactly what.


"Speech!"

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