Bearclaw Valley Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves

val had always held onto the notion he was, as far as wolves were concerned, a pretty good looking dude. the nose being hugely swollen (and the big, black bags under his eyes) really threw his game.

he skulked about. he was useless. his nose hurt constantly. the slightest brush sent aggravated tears to his eyes. eating hurt. breathing hurt. everything hurt.

still it was nothing compared to the others. arielle, aventus, merrick -- all of them were brutally hurt and this put val's agonies rudely into perspective.

coming across arielle, val's posture bent to one of submissive happiness. she held something between her jaws while she limped -- still, her face was as pretty as ever. it was hard for val to ignore the emotions he felt when he saw arielle: conflict, mostly -- arielle was with aventus, and val admired and looked up to aventus.. still, it was hard to ignore the butterflies in his belly when he saw her. hghi. val tried to speak, congested and disgustingly nasally.