Lone Star Mountain Just like a wartime novelty

@Kelina

As the darkened clouds moved over the mountains, the stocky creature moved painfully up the narrow ledges, stopping every once in a while to rake his eyes over the steep cliffs, calculating which would be the best route. It wasn't the best move to come up here, and he knew it, but the pain was starting to affect his thinking. With a determined face, he methodically climbed the steep cliffs. Making his way higher, he refused to flinch, his eyes as hard as the stones he was climbing. The wind ruffled his fur, and his dislocated arm swung, his muscles tensing from the pain. Yet his face stayed the same, save the absolute hate in his eyes for the wolf that did this to him. Curses fell from his mouth as he continued, the dark rage growing inside. Finding a suitable ledge to drop down on. He eyed it for a moment before nodding his head. It would do.
Moving his right arm into position, his resolve only wavered for a moment before he threw himself off the cliff, aiming for the ledge below. He closed his eyes as he fell, feeling the drop in his stomach, the sudden jerk of his movements and the wind whistling in his ears. Opening them, his tail flicked in surprise as he realized how close he was. And suddenly, he was there, the unrelenting stone snapping his arm in place with a sickening sound, the pain crescendoing then dropping to a dull painful throb as he rolled to a stop, his left foreleg hanging off the cliff. Darkness filled his eyes, but he fought it. He was very vunerable at this time, even if he was loathe to admit it to himself. As the wave of nausea washed over him, he fought that, too. They both passed, and he slowly sat up, taking a careful look around.