Wapun Meadow dripping in rot

maybe a bearclaw valley member ?

he staggers. the days have been long, harsh. the sun stewing infection in his wounds. his face is sunken in, his ribs threatening to press against sides with hunger.

a dead man walking, no doubt. but he moves with a pained shuffle, best he can, a singular yellow eye pinned on the setting sun ahead.

his traitorous sister's people had followed him. fuckers thought he didn't know, but he did. he should've turned around and killed one of them; he would've died in the process, but it would've been worth it. maybe he could've killed @Gjalla. the very thought was enough to make stark piss in joy.

he knew this region. he had passed through it once before. the mountain ahead was the one he and @Needle had been heading towards, before rogues found them. tried to kill needle, instead left him gravely wounded. a wound he had finally healed from weeks ago—and now he was on death's door yet again.

but he was still standing. still walking. still moving. but he knew he wouldn't survive to see the lands of forneskja again if he didn't receive some sort of healer's attention.