He had been resting in Raven's den since the incident, still shaky and unsure - it was only when the sun began to rise on the following day that the young blackthorn picked himself up, pale paws attempting feebly to stretch toward the den's entrance, where soft light poured in and pooled a few steps away from him. His face crumpled into concentration as he moved (taking caution to be slow), but his balance was completely off without his tail, and he wobbled unsteadily.

Phox had come to check on him earlier (which he greatly appreciated) and though he was still in pain, it felt good to stand, even if he didn't look like a model on a catwalk when he tried to shift his body forward. Cinder winced, but shuffled himself forward carefully until he reached the opening, climbing his way out and then deciding that he'd probably do something dumb and fall over if he went too much further (he was going to have to adjust to being tailless now). At least he could tell the others how much of a badass Phox was, charging in and saving Cinder from the ferocious lynx - though he'd rather have been the savior himself. He could probably twist the story a tinsy bit and make it out like he'd done something to help (or maybe not... it was bad to lie, wasn't it), rather than sprinting away and leaving the darker wolf to deal with problem. He did feel a little apologetic about that.

The silver youth peered up toward the hazy clouds and settled himself down again, wondering what the heck to do now.