Two Eyes Cenote what I’ve done

He scarce recognized the walls of home. Only weeks had passed, but the fight for survival had attempted to scrub the thought of better places from his mind, best not to dwell on them too much, made the whole ordeal that much worse. 

He was tired. Hungry. He hadn't got much relief for either in his confinement, save for the occasional scrap, and even that had been few and far between when the one-eyed man was around. He seemed to find some joy in his torment. Nokht wished he understood such hatred and what he had done to be on the recieving end of it. And sleep? Most certainly not; when vultures eyed him up from every corner, how could you sleep under that sort of duress?

So when the panic had finally worn off, and the feeling of bottomless fear finally flickered out to mere embers, he laid his head against soft furs and felt his body grow ten times heavier. The voice of his rescuer uttered sweet promises; the sort he hadn't been worthy of. 

He wanted his mom. In the haze of pain and exhaustion and every other thing, he reached his paw out for comfort.