Lost Creek Hollow The humbling river

Atreus would’ve preferred to succumb to his injuries, though that didn’t happen. He didn’t even get an infection, by some incredible stroke of (mis)fortune. That probably had a lot to do with the woman who would not let him just die with(out) dignity.

By the time the pain tapered enough to allow Atreus to think a little more clearly, he still had a death wish. But he had spent the last few days in a haze of pain and painkillers, dreaming almost exclusively of Amalia. He couldn’t do that to her.

As it stood, she was probably worried sick about him. Atreus had no idea how many days had passed but he groggily lifted his head this morning and looked around for the she-wolf who reminded him of Ancelin. If she’d introduced herself as @Ash Paw, he couldn’t remember.