five tennis balls

A day prior, Kennedy had hobbled out of the ridge's boundaries and clung to the northern border Ravensblood Forest. He continued west, keeping the ocean on his right as he stumbled along, panting and heaving every half hour or so. He had remained weak ever since the rockslide, and he showed no real signs of improving. Edy's mood remained sour, his leg continued to ache, and his relations with his pack-mates had deteriorated to the point that he did not think they would ever recover. It was all his own doing, he knew, but he no longer felt it fair to continue to drag them down.

Around Silvertip Mountain he went, his healing hind leg rarely touching the ground. He continued forward, wondering how long it would take before his body simply gave up and refused to let him keep moving. Kennedy was determined to end it somehow, someway. He was not brave enough to end his life quickly and cleanly, instead removing himself from the safety of his pack where he could always find food. If he could not survive out here, on his own, he did not deserve to survive at all. A wolf who could not contribute was useless: dead weight.

Kennedy moved into the shelter of the forest on his second day of travel. It shielded him from the torment of the hot sun, and he stopped at a small stream to drink from its water.