The beast prowls with terrible purpose, and you shiver where you lie, fear pounding an irregular beat as your heart struggles to escape the cage of your ribs. You try to roll over, try to find your feet, but your legs don't want to move- your right hind aches from the injury to your flank, your left fore burns, and don't get me started on your useless left hind. Only the right fore still maintains any semblance of functionality, though the bruising on your wing more than compensates for that. Still, you struggle, tenacious to the end. A squadron of ants, oblivious to your plight, struggle to move a piece of red fruit which far outweighs them across the cool ground. You watch them intently, focusing your mind on that, the pain in your body so intense that you can barely think above its howling fury.

But as long as you focus on those ants, you think you might survive.

You make it onto your stomach, your right fore ready to try and push you up, when the monster makes its move. Terror and resignation dilute your determination - what's the point? Oh, you don't stop trying to stand. You stare at the ground, your tongue clenched between your teeth. The ants have moved maybe an inch, if you're being generous, but they're moving, so you move too, your body quivering with the effort as you manage to get your right hind under you.

The beast with the broken jar and copper breath looms above you, and he is your death, your reaper, your condemnation. You are on the ground, and he's won the fight. Why do you keep trying, when you know there isn't a point?

You refuse to look up. You keep your gaze fixed on the ants, even as a massive paw reaches toward you, even as sharp claws reach out and tear into your neck, even as your body begins to rise up and to the right until you're... you're...

Standing?

Kind of. You watch the ants fall away as you rise, your muscles working in tandem with the monster to raise you back to your feet. Your right legs hold most of your weight, and your left fore takes its share, but your left hind remains useless and limp, the broken bone a steady source of terrible pain. Blood drips from you in numerous places - your shin, your flank, your gaskin, and now your neck, where the claws of the beast have lodged themselves like fishhooks (though, remarkably, they manage to avoid all major vessels). The smell of it is copper in your nose, an acrid chemical scent that is drowned by pain, pain, pain in every muscle and every bone. The pain rushes through you as you stand, grows stronger than you ever thought it could be.

You feel light-headed. The world spins around you. At last you look up, seeking something steady in the spiraling of your brain, and catch the monster's silver eyes. For a second you hold them, and you see something- something that isn't evil, isn't monstrous. In the swirling sadness of svelte silver, you see Mesec, and know he, your friend, did this.

You snap. Literally. Your mind goes red and your eyes grow narrow and you snap, your neck darting out and your mouth spreading wide and your teeth clipping shut as, furious, hurt, afraid, and confused, you lash out at the thing that makes the least sense, the betrayal too horrible to comprehend. It is the last of your strength, but you don't care if you die, so long as whatever comes next isn't this. Your body moves with you, and you throw yourself at the beast, rage giving you this final burst of strength.

You don't feel the tears that cascade down your face. You do feel your heart, as the last of your innocence dies.

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[6/6 | 645 words]
Injury list
- cut on left front cannon
- gashes on right flank
- sprained rotator cuff
- bruising on humerus, ulna & radius on wing
- mild concussion
- broken rib on right side
- deep cuts on left gaskin
- fractured left hind femur
- deep puncture wounds on right side of neck

WOW MY HEART. Amazing fight and thread <333