The Sunspire you squandered your chances

Someone comes for him eventually, but it is not Helios. The stranger's arrival startles him half to his feet after a moment's delay, deaf to the other's words, but he sways when the pain hits him again and his legs quickly collapse before he can fully pull himself up. His chest heaves with the effort, each breath ragged, and he stares at the stranger without truly seeing at all. It hurts, it hurts, I can't —
So he doesn't. His breathing begins to slow, gaze finally focusing on the dark wolf, and the last words register belatedly. Get up. But it hurts, and he doesn't want to hurt anymore — so he doesn't. Why don't you just kill me? He asks dully, eyes hollow as he studies the wolf. He knows from scent that this is one of the wolves from the pack he'd just fled, but the realization does not inspire fear. He's already been hurt, torn and ruined and driven from any solace he might have found in a meal or companionship; there is little more this wolf could do to him that has not already been done, he thinks. Whether he stays or leaves or brings a quicker end to the silver boy hardly matters. He is already dead anyway.