He could hear the flies buzzing in his ears, feel blood running down to his paws, lifted in the air. It had taken a while but at some point he realized he had been impaled by a particularly large thorn. He hadn't even noticed that he punctured his eye on another thorn or the numerous scratches that tattered his body. He attempted to pull away but only found himself more ensnared on thorns and brambles. A low, weak howl escaped his lips as he cried for help. Medic. He needed a medic. He rolled off his side, splitting his paw open on yet another thorn, blood gushed freely from the wound now, and from his paw, staining his fine coat a deep crimson. How had it come to this? What had led such a beautiful creature to such an agonizing death?
Family
He was trying to go home, trying to see his mate again. Ghost. The name rang so clearly in his mind now it almost seemed a shame that it was fading at all. He had wanted to see his children, and that was his downfall.No. His true demise was leaving them in the first place. Had he stayed this could have all been avoided. His children would have grown up to be strong men serving under their king with the same devotion he had shown Gerhardt. Now there was nothing. His children were gone and Ghost would be told in passing of his death. He should have never ran through the brier. He should have known better, but the young fool was excited and eager to see his children.
Slowly he limped through the thorns and brush, his face marred by thorns and other such ugly things. His leg was placed firmly against his chest as he walked on, unable to see half the brush that now seemed to be attacking him relentlessly. Finally he saw an opening in the brier, he hurried toward it as fast as his three legs could carry him. He ran until he was out of breath which wasn't very long at all. He collapsed against a pile of thorns, the pain indescribable. Slowly his eyes began to shut. A soft whine escaping his throat. Rest. He needed rest. The pain stopped.
