Bramblepoint the one minute

callous as it might seem — which is why wintersbane kept it to himself — the tundrian has come to expect these losses. the world has never been fair to him and hydra's loss is just another cut to his heart; battered and horrendously scarred as it already was. still, he feels the loss keenly all the same. the wilds will feel her absence keenly. wintersbane remarks in a low murmur. it will not, but it will always prevail. though he doesn't say this out loud, either.

he lets out a sharp hiss of pain as his weight accidentally shifts to his injured leg and he rolls it back to the right side where he tries to keep it. he glimpses as best he can at it but cannot make much sense of it in the darkness. allow the woman her moments to grieve, he licks at the bloodied wound as best he can though he is not flexible and cannot reach but a small section of it.

it is not safe here. though wintersbane desires nothing but to stop, to rest, to make sense of his feelings he holds within him the suspicion that the danger might not have entirely passed. the land might still be unstable.