06-30-2010, 07:06 PM
The truth of his injuries was clouded from him as he was stuck in an uneasy peace. Stubborn and proud the fog in his mind filled before he was really able to contemplate the position he was in. Forcing him to take mental stock and reassess his injuries after discovering the blow to his head. He found that he was in much worse shape than he had realized. The world around him had somewhat dulled before he knew it and suddenly he felt cold. Was this death he thought? What a cruel joke to be played out for him if this was indeed dying. Victim to a false sense of balance; the thought infuriated his sense of pride.
“Oxford… Just south of...” he realized she had left for the moment, he hadn’t even realized she had said anything. The odd sensation to give in slowly crept into his mind. But he forced himself to try and continue fighting it. Trying to shift his position his muscles didn’t respond as well as he expected, he almost gave up but she had arrived once again to stir his mind. Then like a light switch being flipped the fear came back and the stubbornness gone. His head turned to look at her, his eyes somewhat glossed over, the onset of shock coursing through his veins. The wolf’s heart thumped with a vigor that was sure to cause it to bounce out of his chest.
“This is… Not the way… I wanted it to end!” he blurted out unable to filter the shakiness in his voice. The great forearms of the wolf flexed as his claws dug into the earth as if he was fighting himself. His eyes closed for a moment as his breathing and forearms relaxed still straining to gather together the strength to ask for help. It was not in his nature! He was the one who gave help not received it, but here the proud warrior was in a situation which if no help was given he wouldn’t survive. “I” he fumbled with the words obviously never having had to speak them in such a long time. The thoughts of a soft nuzzle pushing his eyes open to see his mother before him. The last time he had asked he was a mere whelping and of course he had run to his mother. Her soft and reassuring voice coed at him and calmed him the last time. The victim of being picked on because of his name. Then it was more of an emotional toll then it was physical but the emotions still played out like fireworks in his mind. “I need help” the words escaped his lips before he realized they had been spoken. So soft they were spoken as if he was that child again, the child that had so long ago been replaced by the behemoth he had become. Size had afforded him the protection of being picked on. Size and cunning where his trade, much more cunning at times then size, practiced to intimidate or extricate him from any situation he found himself in.
“If I am too much of a burden at least do me the favor of fetching my knife so I can die at least with some honor. I am not very fond of bleeding out due to foolish wounds received while letting the ocean unearth long forgotten memories. I’d much rather die, a warriors death” Again his voice was soft with a quiet strength to it. For such a big wolf he didn’t let his voice over power his words. “If I am beyond saving”
“Oxford… Just south of...” he realized she had left for the moment, he hadn’t even realized she had said anything. The odd sensation to give in slowly crept into his mind. But he forced himself to try and continue fighting it. Trying to shift his position his muscles didn’t respond as well as he expected, he almost gave up but she had arrived once again to stir his mind. Then like a light switch being flipped the fear came back and the stubbornness gone. His head turned to look at her, his eyes somewhat glossed over, the onset of shock coursing through his veins. The wolf’s heart thumped with a vigor that was sure to cause it to bounce out of his chest.
“This is… Not the way… I wanted it to end!” he blurted out unable to filter the shakiness in his voice. The great forearms of the wolf flexed as his claws dug into the earth as if he was fighting himself. His eyes closed for a moment as his breathing and forearms relaxed still straining to gather together the strength to ask for help. It was not in his nature! He was the one who gave help not received it, but here the proud warrior was in a situation which if no help was given he wouldn’t survive. “I” he fumbled with the words obviously never having had to speak them in such a long time. The thoughts of a soft nuzzle pushing his eyes open to see his mother before him. The last time he had asked he was a mere whelping and of course he had run to his mother. Her soft and reassuring voice coed at him and calmed him the last time. The victim of being picked on because of his name. Then it was more of an emotional toll then it was physical but the emotions still played out like fireworks in his mind. “I need help” the words escaped his lips before he realized they had been spoken. So soft they were spoken as if he was that child again, the child that had so long ago been replaced by the behemoth he had become. Size had afforded him the protection of being picked on. Size and cunning where his trade, much more cunning at times then size, practiced to intimidate or extricate him from any situation he found himself in.
“If I am too much of a burden at least do me the favor of fetching my knife so I can die at least with some honor. I am not very fond of bleeding out due to foolish wounds received while letting the ocean unearth long forgotten memories. I’d much rather die, a warriors death” Again his voice was soft with a quiet strength to it. For such a big wolf he didn’t let his voice over power his words. “If I am beyond saving”