03-29-2021, 11:19 PM
The damp, no, soaked feeling woke Nemean. Not a single strand of fur could be classified as anything less than drenched, though even he had to admit, it was at least warm. It might not have been an awful way to wake up, in the start of a storm, if every fiber of his being didn't ache. Every inch of him felt bruised, and he could feel the tell-tale sting of several fresh wounds; for a moment, he had to collect himself, but realized with surprise that he.... remembered.
Everything.
Months it'd been, since he'd woken and yanked himself from the rubble of a landslide (a much worse way to be woken than rain). Months he'd walked, unsure who he was, floating from pack to pack, trying desperately to find someone to love him as much as he loved himself. Someone who would match his loyalty, someone who could make him happy. Someone who appreciated the work he did, someone that would choose him over anything else -- everyone else.
They never came.
He remembered his parents, his family -- he hoped wherever the Vale was, they were okay, and Valerie had gone home and told them he was okay. The Nightshade wasn't sure he was anymore, but in some way, he felt free. Odd. He missed Keres, too, but she'd never really cared for him in the same way he'd tried to love her. He wasn't the right man for her, and while he was confident she was now safe, he wouldn't be returning to her side. Plans changed, and she was apparently happier without him, if the Dominion had been enough of a pull to leave him.
The last thing he remembered was drifting off, Ba'al's teeth in his throat. He could feel the keen sting of the lacerations there and several other places, still sticky with blood but none of his wounds actively still bleeding. The pattering rain smeared the crimson into his silvery throat, and it wasn't without trouble Nemean struggled to sit up to his belly. A yelp left him, and he was reminded of his injured paw, too. The wounds hurt enough, but he didn't think his foot would be mangled or anything once it'd healed -- just decorated with some gnarly scars. The fracture within hurt even more than the injury to his neck, and there was a similar irritated prickle from his cheekbone. The fight had been vicious, and...
Well now that he thought about it, Nemean had been quite sure he was going to die. He remembered the pair of them fading, bloodloss, probably, more than any one injury they'd sustained to the other. Still, somehow, he'd survived -- and he wasn't in the same thicket he'd been lurking in for weeks, where he'd been waiting to ambush his enemy. Said beast was nowhere in sight, either, and to Nemean, he was only more confident that meant he'd been saved and Ba'al had been beyond it.
That Nemean had completed his task and rid the world of the monster, and now....
Well, now that meant he was free, didn't it? Free to start again, able to forge his own path. He wasn't sure who might've saved him -- there was no scent on him or the area around him, no herbs, no prey, nothing to give him reason to think he'd been cared for. Shit, his wounds were still bloody. Nothing made sense, but Nemean just scowled and pulled himself to his three good legs. He wobbled, growling low under his breath, but managed to stay up. The rain grew harder, lightning splitting the sky ahead and making Nem jump just a little, scowling even harder at the following clap of thunder.
It was late. There was no familiarity at all with the area around him: an open grassland, as far as he could tell, but a looming shadow in the distance spoke of a nearby forest. He could shelter there for the rest of the night, if he could limp that way. Tucking the injured paw to his chest, Nemean began the slow trek, ears pinned, eyes squinted against the dark. Nothing else seemed to be stirring; most other creatures had probably been smart enough to tuck themselves away somewhere safe and dry for the impending storm, and with the flick of his tail, Nemean wondered why he couldn't have woken up a little sooner.
At least his wounds were getting rinsed, right?
That Nemean had completed his task and rid the world of the monster, and now....
Well, now that meant he was free, didn't it? Free to start again, able to forge his own path. He wasn't sure who might've saved him -- there was no scent on him or the area around him, no herbs, no prey, nothing to give him reason to think he'd been cared for. Shit, his wounds were still bloody. Nothing made sense, but Nemean just scowled and pulled himself to his three good legs. He wobbled, growling low under his breath, but managed to stay up. The rain grew harder, lightning splitting the sky ahead and making Nem jump just a little, scowling even harder at the following clap of thunder.
It was late. There was no familiarity at all with the area around him: an open grassland, as far as he could tell, but a looming shadow in the distance spoke of a nearby forest. He could shelter there for the rest of the night, if he could limp that way. Tucking the injured paw to his chest, Nemean began the slow trek, ears pinned, eyes squinted against the dark. Nothing else seemed to be stirring; most other creatures had probably been smart enough to tuck themselves away somewhere safe and dry for the impending storm, and with the flick of his tail, Nemean wondered why he couldn't have woken up a little sooner.
At least his wounds were getting rinsed, right?
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