Anyone can join this! A random Pack NPC is with him. Word Count »
He had come too late. Gotham had been wounded and restrained, and his hind leg pained him from where the Guardian had wounded him. They had continued to torment him; he had saved what energy he had an remained in his Secui form, a massive wounded black beast. He was treated in the same manner of their horses—this he recognized because they often used him alongside the animals. Today was no exception.
His head was bowed, ears back. They had made the point very clear that if he fought them they would not only kill him, but go after his family. Savina could not protect them all, they had said. And he knew they were right. A thick leather contraption was hoisted around his body, to which a wooden-pole and deer-hide pull was attached. Gotham recognized it as a travois, having read about such things in his studies. He had not expected to ever be forced to work like this when he had read those books, and now realized that the resentment he had learned from those authors was true.
The woman with him was not unreasonably cruel, but she was short tempered. He had gathered they looked down on this four-legged form, though he had no desire to shift out of it. Not while his leg ached and his food was kept short. He sat dejectedly, the travois behind him loaded with wood. Ahead of him, the Guardian continued her duty…though she kept one eye on her disgruntled companion.
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