The Worse Kind Of Pain
08-19-2014, 01:46 PM
He had lost. The pain that shot through him was not only from his wounds, but from the look in Irune's eyes. She said that she had basically given up on her, that he didn't try. The young king had tried, although the whole reason of the battle was lost on him. It had been Irune's choice to make, to go with Isardis or not, and yet still she sat there to watch the men fight. Yes, he wished to protect his members, but he was not a cruel leader. He did not force wolves to stay within his ranks, or to make them call Abaven home. It was something that they chose, and that they could leave at any point. Blood ran down his face from the puncture marks around his muzzle, walking was painful from the large bruise in his shoulder. He had walked all this way, utterly defeated. What would Quelt think of him now? What would all of Abaven think of him, now that he had lost. Would they all vanish, claiming he wasn't enough to protect them all? Bass was trying his hardest, and this defeat did not sit well on his shoulders. The pain from his wounds was nothing, nothing compared to the pain of him losing. He was a failure, and he had not been able to defend a member, to show her that he was a strong leader. Bass stumbled, his paws trying to catch himself as his severely bruised shoulder twinged, the pain making his cry out. Falling towards the earth, the boy did nothing to try and stop it. He let the ground greet his body in a rough hug, his flanks heaving as he panted through the pain. He was sure that his jaw was fractured, the amount of pressure that had been applied to the bite was great. Dull gold eyes slipped shut, readily welcoming the blackness that swallowed him whole. Walk "Talk" Think |
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