Sleeping Dragon i will storm the gods, i will shake the universe

Thanks, I will do so :D

Cirrus was already sick of the sight of the cave. He wondered when he would be let out of the dank space. Given that he was a captive he wasn’t sure they would let him out for some time – it was much easier to contain a wolf in a cave with only one dual entrance-exit. At some point they had to let him work his way out of this predicament, surely. For the time being this was a pipe dream; Cirrus had no way of moving further than a pained hobble to relieve himself. Even for that he had to shimmy away from his own faeces because he could no longer squat – his front paw and damage ribs left him with no opportunity. He was desparetely attempting not to use his front paw, which gnawed at his consciousness with an ever-present ache. He didn’t want it to grow back twisted and weak.

 

From outside he could hear that Heda had arrived, and his guard departed at the Alpha’s approach. There was little to report – Cirrus sat in silence for much of the day as he contemplated his prison. Perhaps he would slowly go insane. Heda came to the entrance of the cave and dropped a rabbit. The man stared in surprise at the relatively fresh meat. A pang of hunger goaded him into ignoring her words, but his sense won through. Instead he lurched unsteadily to three paws and hobbled towards the den entrance. He was careful not to sway in Heda’s direction, lest she feel threatened.

 

He moved a couple of paces away from his ‘den’ – all that he could manage – and relieved himself where he stood, unable to cock a leg. He turned back to Heda, his furled ears pointing towards the sky in that most half-cocked and unusual way. The setting sun gave her dark fur an extra dimension, and made her more beautifully dangerous than ever. He cherished the sight of the setting sun, a few seconds of rich colour that gave him more enrichment than a thousand hours in his cave. “Thank you.” He spoke, brown eyes searching her face momentarily before he averted his gaze and began to hobble back to his den. If he thought of it as a den he felt like he was confined to a sick-bed for his own good, more than his imprisonment.

 

“I won’t run, you know, Heda.” he added with a strangled bark-laugh at his own twisted joke. He hesitated outside the entrance, knowing her eyes were on him, taking one last look at the view before he crossed the shadow of the threshold and submitted himself to misery once more. The rabbit had lost its appeal. He continued to take in the surroundings, and quietly wondered why they even thought he was worth the effort of a constant guard, and healing back to health.