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TOW - NINIAN - MERCY — Description

As the battle wages on, you fear that you will need to retreat due to injury. Unable to last for much longer, you search for a way to escape just as another foe stands before you. You prepare for the worst but, to your surprise, a moment of conflict is visible on the wolf's face. Without a word, they turn and disappear into the hoard; they let you go.
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Wave after wave of combatants poured across the battlefield. He thought he recognised some from their encroachment upon Voltaire’s territory, while others were perfect strangers. The young Champion saw flashes of gold through the throng - his king as he surged into battle, or perhaps just another nameless face in the crowd - and he charged after it. He would never make a name for himself if he fell here - he couldn’t afford to fail. Disregarding his wounds as they multiplied, the young wolf sprang upon another enemy, and another.

Slowly a numbness began to creep over him, starting in his limbs and spreading up through his chest, and finally across his vision. The battlefield swam and hazed, and a nausea washed over him. His stride faltered, and he thought for a moment that he might be sick. How long had the fur at his throat been so warm, so sticky?

How much of the blood across his coat was his own?

A figure bowled into him and Ninian’s feet went out from under him. He scrambled back up, panting, vaguely aware of a dull pain across his face and over his ear. A dark wolf stood before him, staring with wide, solemn eyes. The Atolli hesitated, blood staining their lips, before they took a step back and vanished into the crowd. A moment later, Ninian realised that the action had likely saved his life. The golden wolf began to stumble towards the edge of the battlefield, heart racing and vision swimming, he had to get out of here, if he were to survive this one fight, and serve his king.

I have to survive.