Little Goat Mountain This is a perfect day to die

Loud voice. Pressing on all sides. But pulling him from the mire from the muck. Reyson moved with a gasp, and stared blankly at the wolf that had called his name. He tilted a head and shook it, again and again.

You don't look like one of Rook's spies, and you're not one of Amity's wolves. Soldier? Did they send you to my detail for a reason?

His voice was questioning, but cold. The one he had used countless times before when talking to those under his command. Something needed to break teh hold of him.

You shouldn't be here. They're all dead. All.

A sharp pain bloomed in his chest again and large head hit the dirt.