Blackfeather Woods [m] The world laughed at any attempts we made to exist in it without pain

Denied an explanation, for it was believed that he already held the answers. Xan was confused and hurting, the plant having made everything seem far more intense than what it potentially could have been. To wrap his head around what was happening was something that he couldn't quite do, since he didn't have enough of information, nor was he really in the right state of mind to be trying to piece together some puzzle. "I don't know him, I do–," a pause, a sharp intake of breath, a thought. Did he know Sheogorath? No, no, no. He didn't know who he was, he'd never before met him—even in his current state, this was something that the boy was certain of, believing that he would have easily remembered such a peculiar name. "I've never met him, I've never—I've never seen him, I swear!" Why wouldn't he believe him? What had he done to be deserving of all he'd received thus far?

Teeth had been felt lingering close to his neck, and so he'd forced his eyes shut, awaiting an end that wouldn't be given. Death seemed preferable when compared to what he was being forced to go through, and so he'd silently hoped for it, only to realize that he'd not be killed then. No, that would be too quick. When his jaws snapped together, Xan had flinched, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. Yet, again, there was nothing—not at first. A breath had been inhaled just as his scruff had been grabbed, causing for it to get trapped within his throat. "Stop it, stop it, stop it," the words had come out in a rush, the syllables having all run together until the actual words were hardly distinguishable. An attempt was made to push himself up off the ground, but his efforts were fruitless. Uncooperative legs kept him against the earth, which he'd then dragged his face through as he'd tried to twist his head around. He could not see Cicero, he could not attack him, and he could not defend himself.

From the corner of his eye, he could've sworn that he'd seen Adonis lurking in the shadows, but it was nothing more than an illusion. He was a trick of the mind, just as his mother had been, and had disappeared into thin air just as quickly as she had so that he'd been left all alone with his attacker. "Ju-st let me go..." he'd tried again, in denial. Cicero hadn't been a bad wolf, he'd been the one Spiderling that Xan had believed himself capable of getting along with. No longer did he see him the same as he previously had, able to view him as nothing more than yet another wolf that existed for the purpose of hurting the boy.