Porcupine Ridge authentic battle damage

He lead his pack home, and then separated from them. The black wolf sought the quiet and solace of one of the dense forests that populated the ridge, and there beneath a sturdy fir he laid down. There was a calmness about him now and his fur lay flat, but there remained, seated in his breast, lingering anger and frustration. But his attention was drawn away from his emotions and thoughts: he was now only just becoming aware of the wound on his shoulder.

He craned his neck around to inspect it, nosing through the blood-soaked fur around the rough-edged gashes that the other black male had torn into his skin. It ached now, each pulse of his heart causing another pulse of pain as stiffness started to settle in. Some of his packmates were hurt too, he knew. It was fortunate nothing was overly severe, but still, it made him scowl that it had happened.

Bitterly, he licked his wound.