Shadowwyn Moor Where Oh Where, Art Thou

Every fiber of his body screamed attack! as he thought of how the trio had vanished into the distance. He still wanted to chase after them, to tear into their flesh and paint the snow red with their blood—they deserved that much, having been the ones to throw the first punch. Had he been the only one to feel the wrath of their teeth then perhaps he may have considered letting it go, but they had attacked one of his own—they had wounded her to the point that blood was drawn. He could not forget them for this reason, or let go of what had happened and moved on. No, they would not be forgotten, not until he killed them and left the bodies for the birds. From this point onward, they were each to be killed on sight, and this he would make known when the time called for it—and it presently did not as they stood there bloodied and still bleeding.

Alexander was deathly still as she worked through his coat, letting her clean whilst he continued to throw glances in the direction their attackers had gone. At one point, his body lurched forward as if he might take off after them again, but the realisation that they were long gone and he was already wounded kept him grounded. So he instead followed the girl’s cues, turning back towards home and then leading the way there; the trek back was sure to be a slow one, filled with plenty of stops for her to rest as he remained fully aware of her thigh.