King Elk Forest drive my heart into the night

The question was simple, easily asked simply because of curiosity but it caused a shudder to run through his whole body and he looked away abruptly, eye movement rapid as the memory began with a sharp pain — a phantom pain, pain of an old, long healed wound. His weight shifted on the ground, his muscles tense and coiling tight as if he were preparing himself for it all over again. For a moment, the timelines blurred and Phiipa's much smaller, much more sylph-like (and admittedly much prettier) form blurred into the one that haunted every one of his moments. Waking and slumbering. “ostanovka,” It was a quiet plea, in The Officer's native tongue. Though Phiipa did not move The Officer approached. “Stop!” He commanded but The Officer didn't listen, as he hadn't listened the first time. Ghost's breathing became heavy, to the point of hard, shallow breaths — pants despite that it was not overly hot nor had he moved. He anticipated the pain of teeth tearing through his flesh, through sinew, to bone where it crushed and snapped and dislocated. Slow and excruciating.

Tormented sounds, panic and shudders of pain that tore through his entire body were the only indications that he had been unwillingly and unintentionally sucked into a memory of a past that he could not escape. It had to run it's course and he blinked rapidly when the episode stopped and he gasped to try to find his lungs, to assure himself that The Officer was dead and that his tail had long since healed. He focused his gaze upon Phiipa, using her as a center, as a focus of what was reality now, his stare intense. He panted for a few seconds longer as the adrenaline faded out of his blood stream. “It's a brand. His brand,” Ghost took a deep breath, his lids lowering but unwilling to blink for fear of taking his eyes off of her even for a second might throw him back into the memory. “it's a mark of ownership.”