Turn your face to the light
#3
Davyn caught motion across the distance in his dim eyes, and breathed a painful sigh of relief. At this rate, he had a feeling his lungs were permanently damaged from breathing in the cold air.

"I'm not sure, my lady." He spoke with a lilting accent, the only preferred relic he had brought from his homelands. All others were memories that he cared to not recall. He bowed his head towards the she-wolf, barely noticing the scars that wrapped around her face. "I seek refuge from another life, one that destroyed all I had and left me to die."

He collapsed, then, and he finally felt that blood matted his fur. He had no notion of how he had been injured. So much adrenaline had been running through his veins the past few weeks that he was dimly surprised he could even walk straight. A coughing fit set into his lungs, and Davyn grimaced in pain, tasting blood.


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