Silvertip Mountain thestral

Snatches of wakefulness were all Dragomir was afforded as he was snatched away from Ravensblood Forest; each time he stirred and uttered a noise, he was swiftly sent back into the inky blackness of unconsciousness by a dark shadow that stole along his kidnapper's side. The next time he woke and registered it was in the deep gloom of a cavern wherein echoed the sounds of Merrick's laughter. By now he had learned that giving in to his desire to groan was a good way to be knocked out again, so he fought against himself to keep his trap tightly shut as he blinked against the darkness.

He did his best to move slowly, sliding his cheek along the wet stone floor to try to get a glimpse of his assailants, but being of a young age, Dragomir's perception of how discreet he was differed vastly from reality. Either one of them would easily hear the scuffing of his face as he turned it, squinting into the gloom. Astara remained practically invisible, and Merrick stood out only because of how his fur lightened at his neck. Aurë, Vercingetorix and Isilmë were nowhere to be found. All at once the gravity of the situation settled down around him, followed closely by absolute fear, and his breathing rate increased to a very audible near-hyperventilation as his bladder released and he wet himself.