Phantom Hollow There can be only Two (For my little Chicken Pox <3)

No answer...

              ...typical. Suppose there was no real reason to know everything on the spot which was more welcome then even Slade could know as Makaro drifted into slumber eased though fatigue. If anyone was gifted enough to see Slade within the shadow of his domain all they could glance was a limp body the beast may have thought to claim for his supper upon the morrow. Except this momentary rest wasn't allowed to last forever as gravity slapped him back into his mortal shell.

Makaro winced when his leg screamed against the dirt while his eye went to speedy work trying to ascertain just where he was now. A den for sure yet dank, unkept, littered with a sense of dread as if he did not belong... -another typical feeling all to comforting.

Yet it was the all too sudden bath that chilled Makaro to the bone having first been pinned then washed from scruff to tail. All too naturally Makaro squirmed under the duress his body felt in its discomfort. Every bone ached, pelt itching, and his head still pained itself recoiling in thoughts of rage and sadness. -Still he couldn't help think there was more going on here in the hulking mass of a brute that took to allowing itself a dismal level of kindness. Every moment Makaro's eye stole a glimpse of Slade a tongue, paw, or nose pushed his sight aside and moved on to the next area of concern without pause.

Makaro's leg... Disfigured and obviously in need of attention.

Instinct bounced the pup to panic in anticipation of the pain he would soon feel... -but try as he like Slade expertly pinned the pup and begun his work of repair in moments that left Makaro weeping and snapping tiny white pins at the open air. Several times he tried to bite Slade but couldn't contort his body in a away that could deliver an impact. For all the wasted effort the deed was done and it left Makaro spasming then limp upon his side breathing rapidly until he at last found a way to relax himself. The key being the moonlight itself...

...That one eye rested on the dream-light that crept into the den from the entrance enticing the pup to ease itself like a Goddess whispering sweet nothings into his ears. When he was all but dead Makaro looked to Slade and studied him. 'Was it over?' ... "What was to follow..."

Thoughts begging question with no answer other then to wait and see... -though that eye remained on guard still staring down Slade not entirely trusting. Then again after the events of his life lead to this moment who would Makaro trust ever again?