Lost Creek Hollow pepsi can

And now we arrive at the present. I am assuming @Harlyn has been tending him, and that he's most been confined to whatever corner of the hollow she stuck him in while he recovered somewhat.

His dear companion and alpha female had minded his wounds, even though he was temperamental and irate, growling and snapping at the proximity of his packmates and the necessary touches that assisted healing required. This mistrusting, fearful behavior, this sudden aversion to closeness and touch, gradually waned, but he still did not welcome anyone at his side. He stiffened in their presence and his warm eyes yet remained cold, often staring dead-like ahead. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that no harm would come to him by being near to his packmates, especially his closest friend, Harlyn. Part of him even begged for touch, for the comfort of contact, but even more dominant in his mind now was fear, anxiety, shame, and most of all, anger.

He was a broken beast, his body split open in so many places. Some of the narrower gashes had begun to close, while the larger ones were caked over in ugly scabs. Were it not for the healing herbs that were routinely applied to them, infection likely would have killed him. Even now, he was not out of harm's way, not physically, and certainly not mentally. He was well enough to stand and stand he did, wincing as the wounds pulled and scabs tore. His skin no longer felt supple, but rather brittle and tight. But he needed to move.

With his head hung below his shoulders he stiffly the edge of one of hollow's small streams. It was frozen, with a dusting of snow on top of the plane of ice. His ears were plastered to his skull, his expression twitching with the anger of the thoughts he entertained. He hated the cat. Loathed it with every fiber of his being. It had beaten him, scarred him, took from him something he had never lost before, and was not sure he could regain. It had taken control from him, taken his confidence, and shook his entire perspective of himself and the world.

Luke was not so happy-go-lucky these days to say the least.

"Shardul," he snarled under a heavily drawn breath.