itâd been eternity hours since he was banished from camp. weak legs carried him through the forest, shaking underneath his weight and feet nearly tripped over every rock and branch in his way. he was weak and hurt and tired â where he was going, he didnât even know. he shouldâve stopped earlier. shouldâve found a place to take shelter immediately before wandering the forests at night. maybe he wouldnât have ended up where he was now. on the dirt, breath coming out in pants as the view of the stars above the trees faded in and out of view. he wasnât sure if he was bleeding â but there was something wet soaking around his thigh and through his pants. something warmer than rain. something thick. he was about to just give up for the night. to say to hell with it and pass out right then and there. not that he had much of a choice. he wasnât even sure what happened. mind was in worn out haze, unsure if the sound of a rustle was from his own boot against the leaves and dirt or if it was someone else.Â
@valleyborn // plotted starter
