He had failed but not, perhaps, in such poor form. Alcide had been able to fend him off from Spirane for the time being but the elder male would never look the same at least - Tesseract had torn not only his ear but had done a fantastic job at maiming his face. A reminder if you would, but a better reminder would be that now Alcide had made himself a target. Tesseract, despite brooding over his failure, was not so bad a loser though he swore to one day prove to Alcide that he would not be bested again. Spirane would never be safe so long as Tesseract remained within Moladion. Besides, at the tender age of five, he'd done quite well, he figured. Still, even his stubborn pride could not subdue the pain and stiffness that he had to deal with in the mean time.

Having departed from the borders of Spirane, he had gotten as far as the Mid Western Crater before having decided to take a break. He would see his Caligula soon but he wished not for her to see him in such a state; the fur down his neck and over his chest was stained with crimson, though the wounds had already begun to scab. Their dull ache was tolerable, dealt with easily by keeping his pace slow and his neck held horizontally but it was his ribs that bothered him the most. They ached, bruised beneath both fur and skin - the whole side of his body felt tight, constricted. Even though he wanted to dash home, he knew he could not without losing his breath half way through such an ordeal. He begrudged Alcide further for the series of two or three scratches down his muzzle. Though they would not scar, not visibly at least, he detested the idea that his Caligula may find him... displeasing to look at for some time. Had it been another wolf such as his mother, he would have simply avoided them till each and every wound was dealt with but no... he had to see Caligula. He had failed her, himself and their new family and he could not keep away from accepting that, from admitting it to her. He'd get her a kingdom one day, though. He'd not quit, only grow stronger from it.

Slowly he made his way up the ridge, breaking out of the tree line and forest and making his way into the spring sun. It took him twice, if not three times, longer than usual to approach the summit, and he breathed an exasperated sigh of relief when he finally did make it to his destination. It was a relatively clear ridge, basked in the midday sun as he hobbled forward. He took but a moment to glance his surroundings before collapsing onto his belly, growling beneath his breath as a sharp pain rippled down his chest. Though the blood had stopped flowing so readily, the scab was sensitive, easily cracked. How was he to explain his appearance to Caligula? To anybody? It was not easy to admit defeat and he imagined the world was not so sympathetic towards a loser such as himself. Perhaps he should have better picked his fight, found another kingdom to call Caligula's. There was always next time.

And oh yes, there would be a next time.

For now though, he was but a beaten wolf atop the ridge, looking all the more miserable and disgruntled as ever. Even the usual prideful demeanor he wore was somewhat absent, his brows furrowed in a frown as he began attempting to tend to his chest. Perhaps, he thought, some company would not be so bad in such a state; after all, perhaps it would be best to get his thoughts off his mind for once.

T E S S E R A C T
[ five - soul of caligula ]