Hushed Willows [m] Mental Wounds

I lied, I've decided death is fine for this situation.

"FUCK." The bite on his flank had caught him unawares as a third--a third?!--assaulted him. Not that the pain was really any different, it just melted into the excruciating pain of his already decimated limbs. He stumbled out of his opponent's job as an order was given to cease, flopping onto his side, his chest heaving from the skirmish.

He emitted a low growl in a last act of defiance before he relented. He relaxed his body--or relaxed as much as he could despite the pain--into the cold red stained snow. Eyes of singed smoke burned with a hate so infernal towards the large male and his counterparts, but there was nothing else that Greysin could do.

This was it. His end...

He felt it in his bones. It may not be right now, but soon. If not the wounds, the cold would soon take him. 

And because he knew this, he would not give them what they want. They have already taken his life, he will keep what he has taken.

He spits in rebellion towards the male. "Fuck you and your pack. She is mine and will always belong to me. You will see...You will see! Her soul is tied to mine. She will know in time!"