Shadow Mountain Just a conspiracy of cartographers, then?

Current wounds from the previous fight with Revui, gashes along the neck, punctures in the shoulder.

Their voices became a little clearer as time went on, both an injured man's friend and foe as recovering and severity of injuries all counted toward his outcome. The boy's panic in turn only fueled his own, wanting nothing but to get away from the situation and the strange faces that kept popping up. Perhaps it came with age, the dislike for new faces, the comfort in familiarity. 

He could feel the soft touch of the woman checking for wounds along his sides - for a moment it calmed him. Her gentle touch allowing him to find his breathing again, that wide-eyed panic softening as he could barely focus on the tilted horizon, the feeling of the cold ground beneath him barely feeling like anything other than a warm bed. But then —!

With a roar his body curved upward, trying to get away from the touch that was once so comforting for a brief moment, legs flailing as they kicked at the dirt, maw ajar and furious as they aimed a crushing SNAP near enough to the woman but just missing her. With pinkish bubbles foaming at his lips, a furious eye bore into her, that warm honey as sharp as a cornered beast while a silent growl vibrated in his throat. Yep, that hurt. 

In his right mind, such wild antics would possibly not be the case - but fear does incredible things to any man. Not the fear of death, no, something more... something bred deep into him. The fear of dying like a coward.