Ash coated the land, hung in the air and dirtied the water. Not as bad as some lands, but it was still ever present. It clung to the black pelt of the body abandoned there, caked on the blood-matted shoulder and leg, clogging his eyes and nose, but he wasn't quite capable of caring at that moment.
This was Hati, dropped on the border like so much trash after he'd lost the fight with the alpha of Glaciem. Whether he had been dragged all the way here or if he'd managed to drag himself here in his delirium, Hati didn't know.
At the moment, Hati didn't know much of anything. He had fallen unconscious from blood loss after the fight, and hadn't fully regained it in the time since then. Even after such a short time the wound on his shoulder and the puncture marks on his foreleg were already hot with infection, the fever drying out his nose and making his tongue swell. He looked like he was already dead. Hati was, however, just too damn stubborn to be dead, and he'd have been infuriated to have died of such minor wounds. Of course if the wounds had been cared for right away he'd have been fine, but when the blood loss and exertion and hunger had caught up with him all at once, he'd ended up unconscious for the better part of a day and a half - long enough for infection to have already set in.
If Loki found him like this, he'd wish he had died. A couple simple bite wounds and Hati was down for the count. Pathetic.
"Speech"
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