His breath came out in pained huffs, the fingers of his right arm clasped around the broken left arm, clinging desperately just below the elbow. The scent of blood was thick in the air, and even thicker as it hung to the thick fur around his arm. It wasn't from the actual broken arm. No, the blood came from the gashes on his arm. The fall down the bank was painful enough without having his arm scraped off off rocks and branches. Tony tried not to make a sound, tried not to show his pain. In truth though, there was none. This terrified Tony to no end. He never thought it possible, but he wanted pain. He wanted to feel pain. Tony could feel pain, but it was various aches around his body. But he could feel nothing from the top of his elbow down.
He pulled himself to the medics office, having already put Milite in the stables (he'd tend to the horse's grazes later), rapping the door urgently and loudly as he slumped himself up the door frame and panted heavily. 'Hadley!' he shouted, closing his eyes and praying to whoever.
.irontony-text {padding:0px 10px;}
.irontony i {color:#ffffff; font-style:italic;}
.irontony b {font-weight:bold; color:#cd1111; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.2em 0.2em 0.2em #d7cb12; }
.irontony {width:500px; margin:0 auto; background-color:#34053b; background-image:url(http://i910.photobucket.com/albums/ac30 ... 0e1e08.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding:330px 0px 6px 0px; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size:10px; color:#ffffff; word-spacing:.2px; line-height:14px; letter-spacing:.1px; text-align:justify; border:1px solid #34053b;}
</style>
[/html]