Lev is being a bit of a drama queen in this, sorry for the awkwardness. xD His shoulder wound is probably extremely ugly, and I imagine he's kind half-collapsed not far from her house? Feel free to pp Wils leading her to him.
He walked, bleeding each step, leaving a trail of splatters behind him to mark his retreat. He walked from the hot springs to the borders of his pack, and then he walked some more, the paint mare plodding nervously beside him. He put her away, more blood gushing each time he lifted his arm, wrenched his shoulder. When it stopped, began to dry on his skin, he made a motion that invariably opened it up again. Tissue scarred years ago by fangs had been wrenched open by claws, dug into—claws within his flesh, dirty and twisting. He couldn’t even feel the pain anymore.
Levent looked lifelessly at the horizon, where the sun flamed like a dying candle, swallowed up by the land. He was sure he could follow it like a moth to the bay, watch it sink on the watery horizon like everyone wanted to, and maybe he could swim after it until he drowned. Maybe if he wasn’t so afraid of the sea, he would—maybe if he didn’t look across the road to the house that held all the precious souls in his pathetic life.
I protected you, the pale-eyed wolf told them silently. I didn’t sell you out. I survived. I’m bleeding but I’m alive, and you’re safe, and her words don’t mean anything.
He stood there for what seemed like a long time, closing his eyes. It hurt to keep them open, anyway, after traveling for so long on foot from the northern forests. He hadn’t taken a break coming home, but perhaps he should have—or at least stayed away for another day. Could Amy follow him here? Would she? She wouldn’t be able to step past the boundary, she wouldn’t know about his family, she wouldn’t be able to touch him...
A voice brought him out of his reverie, its accent growing stronger as the pitch grew higher. “Oh bugger me—Levent! Get your arse off the ground—get up!” The last word was punctuated by a distressed feline growl, as well as a set of sharp claws on his face. They scraped the skin, not drawing blood but painful enough for him to blink his eyes open, gazing up at the frantic cat. He was confused as to why he had to look up at Wilson, but he registered that he’d sank down to the cobblestones as absolute lightheadedness took him. He could smell that the wound was bleeding again. It had bled a lot, over the long journey home. How much blood did a wolf have?
“What did she do to you?” The cat seemed to be straining to reign in his volume; his ears were pinned flat and his breathing quick and shallow with panic. “What did I tell you about that—Levent? Levent, love, please wake up—” A paw prodded at his face, but he didn’t feel like opening his eyes again. Maybe he whimpered. But he could hear his friend scampering away, heard him scratching at probably a door, begging for Hotaru to come outside and help him, he wasn’t conscious...
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