[ The raw sting of his injury pleases him, keeps him silent and awake and prone, like salt and vinegar before the nose of a maiden prone to the fainting sickness. Alert, when the balmy, blood-drenched night threatens to enshroud him, when he shutters his eyes and supposes the reedy, long, petulant scratch of nails beneath may well sing-song their lullaby.
When was it metal and sharpness last sang for him so relentlessly? He suspects, a war ago, a lifetime, meager. Leaning, he sits his back shakily on the scratching, stark husk, a shiver walking his spine when the lattice of his scars meets the tree's natural protrusions.
He breathes tenderly, each inhalation bartered. Tips his head back and assesses, just as another wolf slams itself against the root of the tree — ]
They will tatter themselves to descend us. [ And they are human, he need not say, and ignorant of their own harm. ] We distract them to flee, or plunge to the next tree.
[ An... ambitious jump, as it were, but he isn't the one of exceptionally short legs. ]
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When was it metal and sharpness last sang for him so relentlessly? He suspects, a war ago, a lifetime, meager. Leaning, he sits his back shakily on the scratching, stark husk, a shiver walking his spine when the lattice of his scars meets the tree's natural protrusions.
He breathes tenderly, each inhalation bartered. Tips his head back and assesses, just as another wolf slams itself against the root of the tree — ]
They will tatter themselves to descend us. [ And they are human, he need not say, and ignorant of their own harm. ] We distract them to flee, or plunge to the next tree.
[ An... ambitious jump, as it were, but he isn't the one of exceptionally short legs. ]