Pain. It was all that boy could think about, all he could feel and everything that swollowed him from the inside out. He felt coldy empty and lost inside. He could not understand himself, nor his actions and reasoning, and he would never, ever understand his heart. He had stumbled away, fled the scene of his crime in a flurry or reaction and instict, driving himself away from the pain and tears and all that could remind him of what he had done. He had found himself in his den, it was here his forepaws had failed him, driving his face into the earth. It was here he allowed the pain to overcome him, the tears he held back so violently to fall. He had shaken and cried out and wept until he thought he had nothing left to cry. When the tears had run dry he had fallen to fury, forcing himself to shaking paws, smashing his forpaws against the walls of his den, feeling the shock wave that drove up his arms in a bliss of mindless pain. This was all his fault, but the pain.. oh why, why couldn't he have taken the cowards way out, why couldn't he had found a way to make this different. He couldn't drive away the memory of her expression as his words dawned across her awareness, and she realised what he was telling her. He couldn't forget the sound of her tears, nor the selflesness in her words that left him feeling filthy and cruel and heartless.
Again he would fall in a helpless heap against the earth. His ability to feel emotions so keenly, his ability to feel her pain had intensified his own and he had drowned against the wall of misery. But he was spent, and he would curl his head against his side, close his eyes and wish away the world.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he would awaken, amazed that he had managed sleep, and not remembering the moment it had taken him. He blinked groggy, bloodshot eyes as he raised his hear, wincing at the pain and stifness of the movement. He had heard his name, he was certain of it. For a second he though the voice was Lyrics, and his ears would flatten, he could not bare another wave of emotion, he could not bare to see her pain again and feel it within his own chest. But the voice would speak again, and he would let out his breath in a sigh of both relief and shame, it was Twig, and he longed to seak her comfort, but knew equally he did not deserve. He couldn't stop a soft whimper escaping his maw, but still he did not speak. He did not deserve the comfort she would offer him, after all this was all his fault. He would curl up in himself and beg for her to leave him to his shame and misery, even as he yearned and gasped for her presence.
"Speech"
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