Moonsong Glacier Pack your things, leave somehow

His fight with the large chestnut wolf had left injuries. It was a mercy they consisted of cuts and scrapes, nothing too major. Calahan felt starved. He pursued a deer over the glacier. There were fresh wolf scents, and it was strange that no one had stumbled upon him yet. It mattered little to him. He was just hunting and would be on his way soon, and if all goes well, by the time anyone caught his scent, he would be elsewhere.

But nothing ever went well for him, did it? He underestimated the ice, and soon enough, Calahan slipped. He fell one direction, and his right-front leg went the other. There was a crack, and then nothing. Just hot, searing pain. Goddammit!

He had seen enough broken bones to know. Surely someone would catch him on their turf now. He wasn't going anywhere right now.

All welcome.