Rain on your parade

Everything hurt. All of Saracyn’s body felt like it had been hit by a train and then another train even without him moving. The adrenaline of the hunt had kept that initial surge of pain and shock at bay, but now that it was fading from his bloodstream, the yearling’s nervous system was beginning to catch up to his battered and damaged body. He could feel a sharp pain in his side every time he drew in a shallow breath, but thankfully he didn't find any difficulty in filling his lungs. His entire body felt paralyzed, tingling and numb while his head spun and his ears rung so loud it deafened out everything around him, like his head had been dunked underwater. How long had he been lying here? A minute, two minutes? Time seemed to stand still around him, only the constant rhythmic falling of the rain letting him know things were still happening.

Then came the muted cries of his mother's voice. She sounded distant and muffled, her frantic sounds barely coming through and none of them coherent to the stunned yearling. His paws twitched gently against the hard stone ground, testing to make sure they were still working and he could still feel them. The marking on the side of his face continued to glow in time with his heartbeat—rapid and frenetic instead of its usual steady glow. Then came his mother's touch to his sides around his ribs, and soft whines of pain came from the wolf. Every part of him Manea touched felt sore and painful, especially around one of his ribs, which was likely fractured or at the very least severely bruised. Saracyn couldn't speak at first, only able to communicate through pained whines and the occasional shift of his legs, his eyes gazing around as if in a daze. Where had that fucking goat gone to? He had gotten it, right? He hadn't failed his hunt and gotten himself hurt at the same time, had he?

"Mom..." the Mendacium lad managed to rasp out after a few moments of recovery, trying to turn his head to look around for her. "Did I get it...?"

"Saracyn Mendacium"