Ouroboros Spine nagligigaa

Teeth, he remembers. Claws too. Pressure against his back and being turned head-over-hind. The animal shouts and snarls filled Kigipigak's mind and then never left.

When he wakes, he is far from the dark and muddy crevice within which he hid himself. The pain is still there - the blood not so much, having been carefully cleaned from most of his wounds. It cakes in to his fur otherwise.

The young man grunts, sucks in a strained breath that is too much for his bruised ribs. He coughs, feeling weakness clinging shadow-like to everything.