Ouroboros Spine take me home

[size=x-small]Just an FYI; nobody is chasing him, he just thinks he is being chased![/size]

He ran. He ran for what seemed to be years, every step excruciating and laborious. He ran into pack territory, and he knew, but he kept on moving forwards. Dijax's body felt heavy, and he just wanted to give up; his body was at breaking point, on the verge on losing consciousness. Heart hammering against his chest, strides clumsy and miscalculated. But the foreign wolf had to get away from the blurred figures that had been engraved in his brain. He had to.

Fear and fatigue stirred in his gut. Where was he? It was hot, too hot for this time of year. The partial alabaster wolf was burning alive in a never ending sauna. "Помогите!" He screamed hoarsely in his native tongue, pain-stricken grimace on his face as he tumbled downwards. His large body collided with the ground, smearing his white coat with mud. Dijax lay there, panting loud on his side, losing hope. They would catch him. It was too late.

The cool ground aided in airing the side of Dijax's body pointing up, but the mud beneath him was humid, making his already matted with sweat pelt an indisposable mess. He needed water. Desperately. The sides of his vision were starting to fog up, but when his body threatened to give up, he blinked the specks of danger away. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn't. Not here; not now. "Я не могу..." He mumbled gravely, a rough sound tumbling from his lips, like the dust that falls from sandpaper.

[size=x-small]Помогите = Help
Я не могу = I can't[/size]