Ouroboros Spine I am that is

Kyron could feel the stranger shivering beneath his tongue and wondered to himself whether it was a bad thing or not. He was no healer; that was one thing he wasn't good at, he'll admit it, but he hoped he was helping the golden wolf and not making it worse. But then, it wouldn't really matter would it? Either ways, his arrival was a blessing for the stranger; at least, with him here, there was a chance the poor creature wouldn't drift off into death's wide, welcoming and coldass arms.

"Shut up," Kyron told the guy with a roll of his eyes and a harsher note to his inborn accent. "I'll have you know, I don't like nursing random strangers back to health," in truth, the persian did not know why he even bothered to help in first place when he barely even knew the wolf. The strong survived; the weak died, it had always been this way, this was his father's way, this was his way. Or maybe it wasn't, not anymore. One day, you're compassion will be the end of you, his father had told him. If only his dad saw him now.

The stranger opened his eyes, looked at him, said something about being certain he was dead already and closed his eyes. "Wake up," Kyron nudged him sternly and persistently, showing he was not going to stop until the golden wolf showed that he wasn't losing consciousness again. "I know I'm so blindingly pretty that it hurts to look at me, but for god's sake, just do it."