Whitebark Stream Temperance is a Virtue I Lack

He felt as though he could do nothing but run from the horrific scene he had left behind. Whether it was real or not did not matter, he did not want to see it.

His surroundings continued to warp, and his dry throat let out a painful cough when he failed to regulate his own breathing, yet his bounding paws continued to carry him forward as though he had no control over them. He wanted to return to the den he had made in his new home, he wanted to hide inside of it until all that was wrong had faded away.

A single stride missing it's placement on the ground, he fell forward with a 'thump' onto the dirt. He found himself laying on the ground, limbs shaky and head aching. He did not want to move just yet - he would stay like this if he could.