Hideaway Strath I love that she’s got daddy issues

Dragomir drifted in and out of consciousness during the trip from the falls to Kynareth's pit of despair. No matter how much he tried to scrabble for a hold on it, the black always rose up again. He bumped along the ground, his weight no match for the towering brute who had taken him, and struggled through memories of his past where this exact same thing had happened once before.

Vercingetorix might shake his head with disappointment to know his son had learned nothing since then. Merrick got the jump on him just as easily. At least back then, Dragomir had an excuse. He was a naive kid. This time? This time, he allowed himself to become too comfortable with the company he kept and failed to sense the danger in the unknown before it was too late.

His bouts of consciousness grew longer the closer they drew to the heart of Saints territory. Sometimes he even kicked or struggled to get away. Blood weeped from a wound that webbed out from the point of impact on the back of his head, and even when he was coherent, it felt like Dragomir was trying to conduct his thoughts through a vat of jelly. Even when his giant striped captor let him slump to the ground and declared him a sacrifice, it took Dragomir several long seconds to put together what those words even meant.

That was when panic and dread mixed volatile in his stomach, pushing him to his feet with a wild glance around for some means of escape. He was back in that cave on the mountain, a terrified little boy on the verge of pissing himself, with two monsters staring down at him. But this time, his assailants were not the type to play with their victims. This time, he would have to fight for his life... or surely lose it.

Dragomir bared his teeth at the two wolves, coiling back on himself like a viper.