It was cold. The wind blew harshly from the north sending freezing gusts of wind to bite at the lone wolf walking through the mounds of snow. The morning he had left the safety of his temporary den, the day had been cold, but there was no sign of a storm. It came out of nowhere and hit hard as the injured wolf had been trying to scavenge for food. It had been two days since the war and Iblis' massive wounds had not healed at all. Now, thanks to the storm, they had reopened and were bleeding freely. A crimson trail was flowing behind Iblis like a river and it wouldn't be long until there was none left to bleed. If the blizzard like weather didn't kill him, his injuries would. Iblis gritted his teeth in pain as a gust blew past him, sending a massive shiver down his spine which jolted his wounds. The gash on his left shoulder stung most as it was being hit by the wind directly. It was a large, nasty bite given by the huge wolf Andras. He had taken poor Iblis in his jaws like a vise and shook him until his skin tore and bled. It was deep and possibly infected as Iblis hadn't seen any healers yet. The second attack on his left side neck had come from Lillith at the same time as Andras'. She had bite down harder and harder until Iblis screamed in agony and pulled away. The multiple bite makes leaked precious fluid onto the white ground and with each step Iblis became weaker and weaker.

The crags were ahead and with them came the chance of life. The stone caves would protect him from the wind and he may get the chance to stop the bleeding wounds. Because his legs were in the snow, those had not started acting up and weren't the thread. No, it was the reward of the double attack that was causing him the most trouble and possibly his life. Neither wound could be reached by his tongue and his only hope of stopping the bleeding was to roll on either side to use the earth to help him. Who knew what matter of dirt and grime was inside the bites. Iblis was no healer and thought he was doing what was best for what he had. Making his way towards the caves with a trail of blood following, Iblis found one that was shielded from the wind and large enough to fit him inside. Panting heavily, Iblis fell to the cold rocky floor and held back the urge to yelp in pain. The trail outside would already give him away to any predators or Iromar wolves on the hunt for him. The last thing Iblis wanted to do was actually announce himself to them.

Taking a moment to gather his strength, Iblis rolled to his right and pressed his wound into the ground. It was much colder than he thought it would be and stung like made. A soft growl left his throat as he waited for it to subside. When it did, exhaustion took over. The blood loss was too much and his body needed to recuperate. It started to shut down and within moments, Iblis was in a strange state. He was stuck in-between consciousness and restful sleep. Being a longer practically all his life had taught him to stay somewhat aware of enemies. This was ingrained in his mind and could not be ignored, but his body demanded sleep and would not be denied. So, Iblis lay alone in a small cave half-awake and bleeding to death. The wolves of Iromar may have lost the war, but they may have claimed his life and lost an enemy. Only time would tell if this were true.