So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
(This will be set back in Spring/Summer (can't remember) when the whole shebang happened)
Two nightfalls had passed since he was brought home in his dreadful state. Scabs had begun to form over the gashes that they had left upon him but the puncture wounds were deep and some had begun to fester. As such they grow round and seeped and smelled. It was not as if the Thorn of Glorall was an especially well kept wolf but now he was even less so with his matted fur still covered in dried blood and caked with leftover dirt. Eden had cleaned his wounds as best he could yet they were many and what did the Fortitude of Glorall know of healing? Perhaps it was meant as a further way to make Underidge suffer as he panted deep into that second night while burning from the inside out.
This was unlike the hellfire burn of the Shade as it stirred within him. No, this was the burn of fever and fatigue. He was not in his youth anymore and his body had begun to slow it's healing rate down. Age was beginning to creep upon the eerie male, though he had many more years of deterioration to go. Still, the beast was irked. He reeked of weakness in these moments and his mind flashed back to memories of Paravana as she lay within their den rotting. Wasting away until he was forced to end it.
With a deep groan Underidge pushes himself upright, tilting slightly as his legs wobble and a few scabs peel open from the stretching muscles. There is a few hours left until dawn but he cannot sleep. He burns too hot and his insides scream at him to go. To find her. Even now he can still feel her discomfort. She had been furious on his behalf and the mad beast was surprised by her fervor and fight for him, not the insipid creature that he imagined, though how he got such an idea was flabbergasting considering their first meeting. Not that he had deserved it. He was obedient to Eden, had always been since that fateful day as a youth when Eden had watched hm slaughter that elder male.
The trees groan beneath gusts of sea wind. His jackal-like gait is stilted even more by his pained movements and his panting was loud to his ears. Why did his eyes burn so much? It felt as if they would melt from his skull.
Instinct drives him as he delves deeper into the forested part of Glorall. It is no wonder that he finds her scent - she is what is driving him. The same pressure that had driven him into Asteraia, into his own punishment.
"Kamala." He says her name on a coarse voice, no louder than a simple greeting because he is parched and dry from inside out. But if she was nearby she would certainly sense him.
UNDERIDGE
MALE - NO HEART - KAMALA'S SOUL
OF GLORALL - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (IIII)