Chapter Text
The solitude of the night has never bothered him much; in fact he very much preferred it, welcomed it, as opposed to the horrors of the daylight. And more so, from this new room, he notices that, at this time, he can see how the moon shines in all its might, bathing him and his surroundings in a soft white glow.
Lost in his musings, he can ignore the hunger, or how his tired body begs him to just rest.
However, as time goes by and the lighting inside the room changes with every passing hour, something seems to shift in the air, like an ominous feeling, foreboding. It only takes a fraction of a second for him to feel how the very blood inside him seems to change. A life before unknown to the boy fills up his veins, a momentary strength he could never have imagined springs from somewhere deep inside him without warning.
Clink.
The heavy metallic sound echoes throughout the small chamber, as the shackles fall to the floor beside him, and after an initial moment of shock, his instinct tells him, yells at him, he must flee. In doesn't matter in which direction, where to, he must go and wait no longer. Rationally, he knows it makes no sense to just take out running into the unknown; in his condition, the odds of him ever surviving a night outside are not looking particularly encouraging.
Even so, somehow, he just goes.
Outside it's frigid, the way the air enters his lungs is almost excruciating; the wind around him whooshes past his ears, even though his surroundings are deathly still; the cold bites harshly at every exposed skin it finds, and yet, he notices the damp forest floor feels soft under his bare feet. He runs, glides through the maze of trees like he's never known anything else, even though an oppressive darkness has now fallen around him, and the soft night light barely dares pushing through the wall of twigs and leaves above his head.
He has no idea how long it has been, when his knees begin to give in under his frail form and his weakened body begins to falter. Low grumbling comes from somewhere behind him, and a searing pain on the back of his leg brings him down to his hands and knees in an instant. His whole body is easily pushed down until he's lying flat on his back, something he cannot quite see weighing heavily on top of his chest; that is the moment when he becomes painfully aware he is going to die.
The boy can sense his strength slowly abandon him, like the blood that he can feel oozing out of his open wounds. He glances up at the night sky, the same firmament that remains so cruelly, mockingly quiet, indifferent to his pain. He can now hear howling, crystal clear, loud howling coming from beside him; in an instant, the pressure on his chest is gone.
Joke's on you. He won't make it through the night. It would be more merciful to just end him now, anyway
He can hear growling so close to his ear, and even though he isn't quite sure whether it's real or it's all just delirium caused by his weak state, he musters every last bit of willpower to turn his head to the side.
A dark coloured snout; sharp teeth, two red eyes.
That's the last picture he registers before blissful unconsciousness comes and takes him away.