Larksong Grotto A cheap sunset on a television set can upset her, but he never could

He ran well into the night, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The words Luke had shouted still echoed over and over in Reek's head. Everything you've turned your back on is now mine. Each time Reek played it back in memory, it stung the same as it had when he had initally heard it. When the adreneline finally faded, Reek was then only driven forward by anger and hatred, which boiled in his gut like an unchecked pot sitting on a stove.

Passing the scent marked borders of the grotto, Reek soon collapsed. The pain from his injuries was finally evident. His left flank had taken a heavy blow: a laceration stretched from his shoulder and downward. His fur, mottled thickly with his own coagulated blood. Reek looked down to see his front leg had been horribly mangled. The bones and overall structure remained fine, but a nasty scar would soon set in once his torn flesh healed. His leg would forever be patchy with scar tissue: Luke had left his permanent mark.

His face still seethed from where Luke's teeth had connected: another long cut trailed across Reek's muzzle. His left ear sat torn and tattered -- the top half, now gone forever. Realizing the extent of his injuries, he exhaled a shallow breath and shut his eyes tightly.

Reek wept.