Hoshor Plains i've been running all my life

The rage on the other wolf's face as he turned only further confirmed his identity. Alarian stood still as a statue for several beats, fear burning cold in his chest. There was no one around but them— no one he needed to defend, and no one to defend him. He flinched back from the other's forceful declaration. Traitor.
Lanawyn might have agreed.
With nothing holding him back, the boy ghosted back a few steps— then turned to do what he did best. Run. But the adrenaline did not serve him well, now; the thought of his sister had thrown him off, filled him too entirely with pain. He sprinted clumsily for several minutes, not stopping to see if his brother followed— surely he did.
Then, his paw caught on something hard. Stone scraped and pushed against his foreleg as he crumpled, until the latter's delicate protection broke open; droplets of blood scattered across the rock beneath him. He went down without grace, cursing and hyperventilating and suddenly quite certain that he would die here.