Blackfoot Forest And the walls came tumbling down

Aaron laid in his den, Amara's sweet scent lingering around him as he laid. His neck still stung and if he moved too quickly the wound would begin to bleed, so he just laid. He was not hungry or tired, simply defeated. Amara had done a fine job patching him up-- but only time could heal pride. His head rests just outside of the den entrance, his blue eyes closed and his ears perked. He's resting-- a sort of rest anyway-- but is still on high alert for any signs of their new ruler.