There were muffled sounds around him but he registered none of them. He had started to wake, mentally; he could pick out his injuries and assess them but he could not move. He could not even open his eyes. The monk slowly began to make a list of what the Dragon had done to him: bruised, possibly broken ribs; possible concussion; a gash on his cheek which stung in the dirt; multiple other lacerations; torn paw pads; bruised spine. Though he was exceptionally well kept for his age, he was eight. He couldn't sustain injuries like this for much longer. If the Dragon chose to rampage again, Tenzin would surely die because of it.
And his throat! A pained sigh wheezed through the bruised muscles as he tried to move and assess them. He was still breathing and therefore the Dragon had not punctured anything vital there, but Tenzin would be lying if he said it wasn't anything to worry about. Eating would be painful for some time judging by how painful breathing was. It felt as if there were a jagged rock in his throat, lodged there and blocking his breathing. The best thing he could do right now was wait. He could feel his body laying oddly across the roots of Chenrezig but could do nothing about it.
Dawa, he thought, sadness welling up within him where emotions were usually locked away. He did not show love, sadness, or hatred as a monk. He was simply a being put into the world to help others, and he had failed. He began to wonder where the rest of the Vale wolves were. He remembered seeing Acacia and Xi'nuata, but Larch? Leatherface? Zombie? And what of Ayvo or Velox? There were so many missing. My brothers, my sisters, his mind pained as he tried to sink once again into the blackness. He would not die from his injuries, so it was okay to go back to sleep...
A roar of a howl rumbled through the Vale. It echoed within Chenrezig and Tenzin was able to twitch his ear up to catch it. That awful sound could only belong to one creature: the Dragon. It had found Dawa and she was alive. Time had not been something the monk was aware of. Nobody had moved him and it was probably for the better, as they were not aware of the extent of his injuries. But, Dawa wasn't someone who could afford to lay and wait for death. The Dragon's call subsided and Tenzin found himself quivering.
As a monk, he was devoted to a life of solitude - no mate, no children. Dawa had been born of a promise: Tenzin swore to her mother that he'd look after her, but nobody had prepared themselves for the Dragon. Tragically, the creature had become one with anger. It had become anger's servant. When the monk took Dawa in as his sickly charge, he did not intend to grow so close to her, but she truly felt like his daughter after all this time. Finally, they had found a paradise for her, but even the Vale held dangers he could not save her from. Where he thought she may be dead, he knew she was alive now, and relief flooded him in painful gasps.
Had he been well, he would have laughed at himself for crying. But today, the elder monk wept in happiness knowing Dawa was alive. He curled his body into a broken doughnut shape and let himself cry painfully, quietly.
Bzod pa sgom, he asked of his gods, nga bsun po yin.