Azalea was covered in blood that congealed, clogging her senses and numbing her mind. She stumbled along with the dark scruff held firmly in her jaws. Each back step took her one step closer to Ethereal, closer to help. She felt sick and knew deep down that it was pointless. The limp body she pulled along was barely clinging to life at this point.
Paw slipped, falling onto her rear as she had been pulling him with her rump facing home. It wasn't easy to pull a full grown wolf that was unconscious but she couldn't have left him.
Vaguely she realized where they were, The Range. Seracia scent long gone Azalea now only saw the flared nostrils of a feral horse before the creature turned away, steering her foal away from the scent of blood and wolves.
"Gah!!" Azalea was frustrated, her eyes blurry as her ducts refused to stop leaking. Her head threw back a deep and long call floating out over the lands. It was a sorrowful sound, one begging for justice and some form of help. It just wasn't right, that Sarak should die like this, with a gaping hole in his chest.
