Post-bear attack.
The burning of shame was something that he could not swallow well.
The news of the bear attack had traveled quickly. Word of death and destruction had filled the glen and all who spoke of the matter did so with fear on their breath. It did not matter where he went, the inkjet coward could not escape it. Try as he might, Atlas knew that the attack would haunt him for many nights to come. The thought of those who had died-
Rage boiled inside of him – white, hot, cruel.
Atlas did not even know who had died yet. His cowardice had kept him far from the site of the attack. The mumblings from the others in the glen had been more than enough. How was he supposed to face the prospect of knowing that someone he’d cared about had been killed while he had been hiding from the commotion.
The dark figure took to the borders with his head down and his eyes welled to the brim with tears. Atlas could not help himself. There were two beasts at war inside of his head: run away and don’t look back, or stand and learn to fight for what matters.
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