Hushed Willows 'Cause everything I feel is a waste of time

Life had been rough for Phobos, but not like this.

The first attack by the Montagne warrior and his soot brother had been unexpected, but survivable. They had not aimed to kill. He wished that he had just laid down and let them take what they wanted, that he had told Pepper to let them. He never should have bit the smaller boy. He had known that Viskani was their mother, and he knew she was willing to kill for her children. He knew that she had done it before.

He had never been so grateful for his own knowledge of herbalism. It had been the sole reason for his survival; having your body paralysed hips down made things rather difficult.

His trail washed away by the seasons wet snow falling, melting, and falling again, Phobos had dragged himself from the site of his attack and now sat in a cave where he lived about his days and begged to be found. The risk of howling was too high, for he knew well that Montage de Cigue had settled close by from their scents and calls carried by the wind.

He missed his husband. He was angry at himself for wandering, scared that @Pepper would feel abandoned.

He wanted to go home.