Twisted Slough i wish you'd die in the mire

Cormorant gnawed at whatever he had reached, unsure if he was doing anything at all - given the burning taste already confusing his tongue; blood and frenetic saliva mixing indiscernibly. The sting of a bite through his skin and already grinding against muscle and bone made him shriek - a strangled breath catching in his throat as Magpie made to let go. A flutter of gratitude against his ribs made him slow, drawing himself back down and together if it meant he would avoid any —

Stop, stop! Cormorant wailed, trying to twist out of his grip. A terrible shriek intertwined with the agony, his other legs going from kicking to just trying to steady himself, whether it be against the jagged ground or against Magpie's chest. His breaths were pained whines, one after the other in a tragic tune. The instant the limb was released, he had been so eager to have it freed that it hit the ground with a painful punctuation; another cry leeching from him.

He drew himself away as best he could, forelegs scuffling against the lichen-like grass in more of a drag than a crawl, bringing him only a step away before he collapsed down again. His leg, Cormorant's next whine was feeble, unable to stomach looking at it for more than a single long second. His fur was already matted with blood. The sounds of words were muffled and hazy, washed away by pain and his own pulse, speeding in his ears. Fear stabbed through, focusing him on the only thing he could understand in time.

A monster's poking and prodding - that's all he could glean. The tiniest tinge of indignation was flooded away by a cold, unforgiving helplessness. He couldn't stand to look at him either, just loosely shaking his head, tongue paralyzed in his mouth, eyes fluttering, unfocused, from the grass to his paws to his bloodied fur, and back. He refused to move, the discomforting warmth of blood rushing through where it didn't belong, of an unnatural warmth refusing to abate, pulsing in time with the ache up and down his leg - in the tune of a heart, ready to beat from his chest.