Permafrost Hollows i'm watchin' the phone ring; it's making me angry

His breathing is slow and measured as he makes his way toward the base of the mountain, face stinging in a million different places. His neck hurts too, but he barely registers that pain. The thorns embedded closest to his eyes hurt the most; tolerable, but distracting enough to warrant some focus as he searches for his mate. He'd call for him if he wasn't afraid to open his mouth. For the millionth time, he chides himself for getting too eager with his hunt, too single-minded. He'd been so focused, he hadn't noticed the thorny bush directly in his path until it was too late. Now he has a face full of thorns, and the only one who can fix it is @Kratos. Who, of course, is nowhere to be found.