"Speech" @Kingsfoil @Caravaggio @Deadnettle
Todd once more felt that pain, but he couldn't muster up the strength to do anything else. He struggled to move, dragging himself away with his front paws, but the more he did so, the more pain there was. He didn't understand. It finally seemed to dawn on him that there were bad things in the world. This pain was proof of that but... in Todd's mind, the pain was his, and his alone. He didn't care about the pain of anyone else. He wanted them to go. he wanted them to die. He didn't feel
their pain, so how could it exist?
Todd's paws rasped quietly against stone, and finally, he began to softly cry in a little whining voice for someone who just wasn't there. Little sobs echoed out of the hole. And then suddenly there was another voice. Yelling, angry, frightening. But familiar. He remembered it from his very first day alive.
"Cara... Caravagg..." he never finished his words, and simply broke down, little sobs replacing his fragmented voice. He wanted to move, he wanted to get out of here. He wanted to see Caravaggio. In that moment that was the only thing he cared about.
He struggled to stand, his back limbs barely twitching, claws front paws scrabbling on the rock. His body had never felt so heavy, even his gem felt like lead. He moved his back legs, twitching, heaving... but the moment his exposed, burned skin touched rock, there was pain again and he cried out. He kept trying to move still, his efforts growing more and more fervent, because in his mind, he thought he could run away from the pain, make it all go away by simply leaving it behind. He pushed and pushed and pushed... Managed to push his back paws so they were to the side, only causing more and more pain.
So instead, the little one used his front paws, dragging himself forward towards the opening. His face poked out int the light, and Todd could see him there, the one who'd given him his name, like an angel standing over him, bellowing.
Todd began to cry again, but this time it was with joy as he dragged himself out towards the bull.
"Caravaggio, Caravaggio!" he cried out, tears soaking into the fur around his desperate brown eyes.
"I've not seen you, I see you! You came to make it go away..."
As he removed himself from that tiny hole, the damage the three had done was immediately apparrent. His back legs couldn't move except for odd twitches, and patches of fur still gleamed red. On his back end, what didn't glow red was exposed, blistering skin. Only some patches of fur had escaped the blistering heat and these stuck out at odd angles, curled and reeking.
Perhaps he was young enough to recover, but anyone looking at him would cringe, knowing that he'd always keep a mark or two.