Swiftcurrent Creek too late; i'm coming undone

Maybe if anyone else had found him, a brave face would be put on. A ‘man’s man,’ if Viinturuth had come upon him. Eshe? He would have played off the emotional rupture of his entire being, perhaps, in favor of sparing her own.

But it was Arric, and when the familiar words laced with a curse and caring sarcasm drew his eyes up, it was the blue gaze of safety he found—and he knew then he could do no more but figuratively crumple beneath his friends demanding gaze.

“I think I live in hell,” he spoke, his voice a rasp—his throat so sore. Dry from emotion, maybe?

He laughed then—did he have a right to feel that? His eyes bore back to the waters, narrowing, as he tried to catch a glimpse of the wolf staring back at him—one that wasn’t distorted by rushing water. “She said it was all my fault, so… I guess it’s where I deserve to go, you know?”

Rambling. He could sense it. He couldn’t care to clarify.