Angels on the moon.

Range Soul · 02-13-2011, 02:24 PM

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occ hurrr.

The boy's spirit seemed to be clinging to his body, refusing to leave the brown pup permanently. Each time Range regained consciousness his heart awoke with a thud, pounding hard against his ribs. Evidently he could not stand on his own, his legs barely able to twitch under the thin layer of snow that had began to cover him. He attempted to lift his head, blinking furiously to try to clear the coldness from his eyes. It would have been easy for one to brush off the sound in the distance as their imagination.. But Range was optimistic, even now. It had a familiar tone to it, though the snow had tore it to pieces before it reached his ears. Whatever it was, it couldn't be that far. He knew he had a dedicated pack.. And he was quite happy for that. But the person or persons that had come looking for him were risking their own skins. In the mind of the boy, ignoring them would cause them to keep looking. Wasting their time, and forcing guilt to follow them for the remainder of their days.

His paws twitched as he tried to stand, feeling like a million pins and needles. And with continuous injections of pain being prescribed to the pup, it was easy for his to describe him agony though pained yelps. The cold air stung his throat and mouth, sucking moisture from them. The noises could barely be heard overt the whipping wind, especially if one was not listening closely. But the pup would not give in easily, careful not to miss his chance at rescue.

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