Luneshale Pass libertad en cadenas

Thiago’s breath quickens as he tries to steady himself, fighting against the wave of dizziness that washes over him. He hears the wolf’s reply—English, a bit of a drawl—and it takes him a second to process. The words feel distant, like they’re coming through a thick fog. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it only sharpens the pounding in his head. His muscles ache, twitching with fatigue.

His ears flick back against his head, a subtle gesture of submission, his tail lowering slightly. He’s wary, but he doesn’t want trouble—doesn’t have the energy for it.

The stranger speaks and Thiago doesn't understand, but he hears the concern in the tone. Thiago’s gaze flickers over the other wolf, searching for any hint of mockery, but he finds none—just genuine curiosity. It unsettles him, this unexpected kindness from a stranger—made worse due to the language barrier.

Hierba. Planta. Medicina! ¿Sí? ¿Entender? He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t dare to mention the "green," doesn’t want to seem weak. But his stance wavers, and his legs feel like they could give out at any moment. His vision wavers slightly as he searches, but the ache in his body forces him to pause. The dirt is dry, almost lifeless, and any trace of what he seeks seems elusive, like a mirage slipping further away the closer he gets. He swallows back a wave of frustration, feeling the desperation clawing at his chest. He needs something—anything—to ease the gnawing ache.

His head snaps back up, eyes locking onto Beau’s with a glare that’s sharp despite the fatigue weighing him down. The hunger in his gaze is unmistakable, a flicker of something fierce and unyielding.