The Tangle bleak

set a few days after this

Emptiness. 

That is all Orobashi felt as he trapsed through thick brambles, not caring or particularly aware of the direction he was heading. He paid no mind to the thorns that tore relentlessly at his pelt; it was nothing compared to the unbearable aches that ravaged his body. Even the spirit had become unusually quiet - the vessel had searched his pounding head for its voice but had returned with nothing but confused, muddled thoughts. In the end, he deemed it easier to not think at all.

Days passed and his wounds began to fester. Orobashi hobbled with a steady limp until he could go onwards no more. Starved, parched, and in no fit shape to hunt, he wished nothing more than to disappear. Crawling into a hollow log to wait out his demise, it was the Kannushi that paid him a visit in a dream. So long it had been since he'd seen such a wretched and beloved face. And then it was the pale girl - oh he resented her so.

Hours blur past and his chest continued to rise. Such a sick joke it was that the spirits had been so eager to take him mere days before, yet now had seemingly vanished.

Life was so cruel.