Stone Circle When the birds fly high, and the squirrels burrow low

It was one of the last things he did, the howl, before an exhausted "fuck me," was uttered. Whether it was perceived as a cry for help or not was something he wouldn't know. He had managed a few more steps, each one exasperating the sharp jolts of pain he felt with each heartbeat. His sight only grew worse, then his hearing. He heard only a high-pitched ring, every other sound becoming muffled. The last thing he would remember would be taking a seat, though it did little in keeping him conscious.  

The snakebitten, dehydrated wolf would fall forward, though heavy breaths ensured that he was still alive. Sort of like a forced nap. 

The two wolves, if they chose to approach, would find the large male lying unconscious. The area just below his ankle would be abnormally large with two visible puncture wounds sitting right on the center of the swelling.

He can be skipped while he eep