Silvertip Mountain and there's a million things i haven't done

He blamed himself for @Cortland's injuries. He knew that it was irrational to do so, but it plagued him, anyway.

Phocion paced around close to where the boy rested, fretful, restless. His eyes tracked the ground, watching the motion of his paws. Every little sound brought him fresh anxiety, for it was Cortland stealing away again, in his mind, going off to certain doom.

He couldn't have stopped him, even if he wanted to. And he didn't--not Cortland, not anyone. He knew how important freedom was. At the same time, if being more restrictive would have prevented this. . .

"No," he said aloud, shaking his head. "Stop." This was a fruitless exercise. He lashed his tail back and forth, brows furrowed together, teeth gritted. He settled down on his haunches, trying to breathe. The guilt choked him, prickled down his spine.

He'd never forgive himself.

sorry you get Poorly Written Angst