Robbed of the Asphalt that Cushioned His Face

Heat. Burning, unbearable heat. It slid through Valor's veins like liquid fire. The brutes jaws parted and he panted harshly, lungs heaving to try and cool off his big body. The man's mind was fuzzy. He was thickly in the throes of a fever and it was getting to the point where he'd begun to hallucinate. Creatures peeked out of the long grass. Wolves dead and gone urged him to continue down a well worn path ahead of him. 'To the castle' they said. 'Follow the lights.'

Up ahead, Valor could see flickering lights. Torches? Bonfires? Orange and gold eyes, the same shade as the dancing flames in the distance, squinted as he looked towards a large structure in the distance. 'There. Go there!' the dead wolves urged him on. His breath coming quickly, Valor continued on.

Each step was a victory. Spots of black and white had begun to flash behind the brute's eyes and he didn't think that he was going to make it. The wound in his side ached and seemed to have it's own pulse. He could smell the wound, acrid and rotten. The pitfall that he'd fallen into had been lined with sharpened stakes. One had taken the dire giant in the side, sinking into his flesh and sliding between his guts. It didn't feel as though anything major was punctured, but he was no healer.

Valor barely made it to the border between the plains and the castle lands when his footing faltered. The midnight wolf crashed face first into the earth with a whine of exhaustion and pain. The wound was going to be the death of him. He knew it. Sides still heaving wildly in panic and pain, Valor's eyes were opened wide. He stared hard in the direction of the structure, willing someone, anyone, to find him.

"Valor"