Dragoncrest Cliffs Broken body, fevered mind

Gunanr had been unsure how long he had lay there. His mind going in and out of darkness. He stirred weakly, each time. There were gnats gathered around his wounds, but he could do nothing to chase them away, except move every so often, but each movement cost him dearly. It was in one of his more lucid moments, that he heard a voice and he stirred weakly. Eyes foggy. He lifted his head an inch. Tongue dry, he felt too warm under his pelt.

Eyes fell on sandy fur. He couldn't quite focus, but he noticed the markings and the mask and knew it was the healer from Sapphique. He spoke, weakly.

Sobo. Boy tried take, wasn't his.

His words were loose and hard to string together. But he was at least conscious though feverishly so. He threw a small prayer to Odin, asking for healing, and if not healing a swifter death than this. His fur was hot, and damp. Every stirring of his leg felt like a thousand tiny knives. The wound in his chest, though it wasn't as deep as the one in his leg, still smarted. The wounds felt sucking and wet and disgusting.

He stirred again, trying to at least sit up for the young, but he couldn't. Pain, so much pain blossomed through his leg he quit moving and whined . Head hit the dirt again, unclear eyes roved around.