Redhawk Caldera Say it soft and it's almost like praying

1000 yeeeaahhhh

When dawn broke and a narrow shaft of light came in through the den's mouth, it landed upon Bronco's muzzle. Slowly, it crept up toward his temple and seeped into the corners of his eyes which, for the first time, were not swollen shut. He yawned and stretched, slowly pulling his legs toward himself as he blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurring of his vision. After having been swollen shut after ten days, it was nice to be able to see again. He'd been worried that his eyes might have been damaged, though the clawmarks ended just at the edge of his brow. The thought of being blind made him feel both frightened, and ashamed of being frightened. He'd decided in the end that he wasn't sure he'd have the strength to recover and learn anything nearly as well as Fennec had, and that he'd simply end up being someone's shadow for the rest of his life. 

Fate had spared his eyesight, though, and the swelling in his temple had begun to subside. The top of his head still looked slightly misshapen, with the clawmarks leaving long, raking sounds from his poll down to his brow, but he had been tended to very well. He moved his left shoulder around a bit, and while it was sore still, it was improving. And while he wasn't necessarily restless, he was urged by some deeply ingrained sentiment to get out of the darkness, and breathe in a bit of the light, fresh air. As carefully as he could, he picked his way out of the den, and out into the mid-morning light. 

The sky was grey, but it couldn't be seen very well for the snow that fell in massive clumps of snowflakes. It was the sort of snow that some might find pretty- that beautiful, 'snowglobe' kind. And while there was something charming about it, he knew enough about the different kinds of snow to know that this kind added up. If it continued for a couple hours, they would have a foot or more, at least. 

He didn't feel fit enough to stray more than a couple feet from the den's entrance, and though she snow fell all around him, dappling his back and hindquarters as he lay down, it still did his soul well to get out, into the light. And he needed a bit of that right now. 

Alyx was still recovering, and the news Meerkat had brought to him about the bear attack in the Glen...He was still in denial, and struggling with the heavy, sinking realization that slowly began to creep its way into his reality. Desdemona- the silent, spidery guardian of Moonspear- and Toad- the bright, intelligent role-model he looked up to, and one he leaned on in pack hunts- were dead. He heaved a sigh and tried not to think about them too hard- but it was impossible not to allow himself to ache with grief for his lost friends. It was all he could do to set his muzzle down on one of his stretched-out forelegs, and concentrate on his breathing so he could try and deal with the lead-heavy sadness that plagued him.