Firefly Glen blood in eden

Heaving. Breathing. Keep going.
The defender of the garden had pushed himself to his limit, but there was still time. All Mother knew best, and she knew just where to allow him rest before he found a way to finish them all off.

The bear moved toward the rocky walls of the mountain, looking for somewhere beyond their wretched borders. He knew that time was short, for the red-eyed one was hunting him. They would all die. He knew it. Yet his body begged him to give in, to let go of their foulness and leave that place. He would not.

Instinct drove him to look for somewhere dark and warm. The wind struck him, ice throwing painfully into the open wounds on his face and neck. Some of the wounds had clotted and frozen shut. Others, like that on his shoulder and throat, still bled without remorse for their victim.

The bear began to run toward the borders close to the mountain. He could hear an eagle cry. He limped along, knowing that the fight was coming. They were tracking.

After many paces, he stopped. A wall was in front of him. A dead end.