Blackfeather Woods The Morning After Is Always The Worst

The agony that stained Scamp's howl pierced right through the thick ceiling of Blackfeather Woods. Damien had just returned with his bare hands from going after Qilaq, but already he had noticed Scamp's absence. He would always lurk around him, guarding him, stalking him like his very own shadow. Something had to be completely wrong if it wasn't like that.

In a hurried gallop Damien sought the red hound, issuing a sharp call for his sister in case medical assistance was needed. There had been so much pain in the howl that it was likely Scamp was injured. And indeed he was. Defeated he laid in the ground, breathing angrily as his beaten body bled from several gashes. "What on Sithis name happened to you?" barked the shadow prince in shock although he knew he wouldn't get a spoken answer. He approached carefully, going over the wounds with his nose.