heavy crown

Vitus was healing, that much was certain. The dull ache of the bruising had dimished slowly though under his fur the skin was still blotched with a myriad of colors. Or, perhaps the young Armada just got used to dealing with the throbbing ache the more he had it. The lacerations along his neck and skull seemed to heal aswell, slowly. He could feel the pull of the scabs with each movement, and sometimes he would pull them open once more, which would only secure the permanent scarring that was bound to happen. His fur would grow over the battle wounds, he hoped, and he wouldn't have to be reminded of his first failure each time he saw a reflection of himself in the arctic ice. His vision was still slightly blurry, and would often times water when he tried to focus too much. Perhaps he had cut it in the battle, he would have to work to keep his eyes defended moreso. It was still at the forefront of his mind, the battle, the small dominance spar he had lost so easily, that had labelled him as a failure. At times he would go over it to try and understand how he had lost, but most of the time it would hit him as he watched his siblings play. His side would hit the ground again and again and the stranger pup would stand over him in day and night dreams alike. Each time he would be jolted awake, away from the dream and try and find his siblings to ensure their safety. How could Vitus protect them, if he lost a small spar. 

He tried his damndest to keep from constantly mulling it over, and it seemed travel to the other pack territory helped stave off the memories. He would wind himself through the snow ladden forest, that seemed a lot like the territory that held his den. Why they needed so much land, he wasn't sure, but then again, Vitus had yet to meet up with the rest of the pack. There could be a hundred members for all he knew. His life was small, centralized to that little den with three other pups and two adults. That was his pack, though he was beginning to understand that there was more out there. The further he travelled the more scents he came across and the more he understood that there were others he had yet to meet. He traversed through thick undergrowth with a lack of stealth he just didn't care to use at this moment. He was on a mission, heading somewhere...he didn't know where, but somewhere. Perhaps he was running away from his memories, from his emotions, but all he knew was that he had to keep moving, keep exploring, and he would be fine. He suddenly jarred to a halt halfway out of the underbrush, red and green eyes starring up at the female of power. He could practically feel the dominance radiating off of her, and he knew that she was the queen, or at least a rather high rank. As he squinted up to her (his left eye still blurry) he tried to remember if he had seen her face before. Blinking suddenly and shaking his head to clear the thoughts he quickly dipped his head to her and tried to back up, away from her to give the girl room so he wasn't trespassing into her comfort zone. His paws tangled in the growth, and in a rather undignified manner he fell to his rump with a silent huff, staring dead ahead with wide eyes at what just happened. 

"Burn Baby Burn"