Firefly Glen [M] stop, don't save yourself

Another down. Yet Yakwahe was oblivious to whatever cheering sounded forth from the earth unto him. All Mother was pleased, of that there could be no doubt, but her voice was absent. The wind was silent. For a moment, all that remained was the dripping sound of his blood in the snow. The dogs were vanquished. His sacred duty was complete. Yet still he felt empty, for the land was full of monsters, and the job could never be complete. The holy warrior stumbled forward, finding his vision buzzing and his head pulsating.

Breathing. Heavy.
He felt heavy.
He wanted sleep. The sleep that winter had promised and not brought. The wolves had warmed his homeland. Surely it was their doing, for their cousins with men had wrought gunfire and gasoline upon it.

The bear did not have time to move away as the red-eyed creature found her way to his thigh. She ripped, he roared. A huge bird of prey launched itself at his face and tore with sharp talons. It hurt, and he could not carry on fighting.

Snapping defensively, Yakwahe, an ancient warrior of old, ran from battle. This was not to be won, not now. Exhaustion and blood loss battered him beyond repair. He needed to find a place away from here to recuperate. They would all die, but not now. He had done enough for now.

He fled, lumbering, limping, hoping that the massacre would hold that red-eyed devil woman there for a moment long enough to allow his escape.