Bearclaw Valley Uncertain flame

He didn't know how long it lasted.

The gnashing of claws.
The blood brimming at his cuts only to spill over and stain.
The beating of his heart deep within his ears.

All he could do was fight to stand, his frame wobbling and teetering with every weight added—tugging at his flesh, scoring it with their teeth. How long?
How long, how long, how long? A question echoing in his mind. A scream gurgling in his throat.

He stared at the leader—at the demon above with their single eye reigning down on him. He would wait, and wait. wait. And when the time came for an opening Clay would attempt to tear away from the teeth, away from the pain, and run back into the brush to escape as  he made a silent vow; Blood will be repaid.