He tried to sleep it off, wait it out. See if maybe if he just rested his aching head everything would go back to normal. He would be a man again; he would walk on two legs and piss standing up. It never worked, though. A weird feeling that surprised himself, however, was his near-joy that it hadn't. A rising fear grew in him that he would fall asleep and awake in his world. A world of earth soiled by the blood and tears of the innocent- a world sullied by the unholy.

Everything here was beautiful. It looked here as it did in his world- before such evil had overtook it. When he was just a little boy, not yet a knight sworn to fight without end. He caught moment's rest without guilt under trees and in spots that looked comfortable. He grew used to the feeling of 'I'm done. Lets stop here.' Without the fear of something terrible over his shoulder. Stopping to smell beautiful flowers or appreciate the view.

But it wasn't his.

Strangely, he felt out of place. As though he, as a product of his torn world, was wrong for trespassing into this one. Perhaps this was heaven, a place he surely did not belong, and he was taking the place of someone who truly did. A feeling of guilt pulled at his broken heart, one that twisted his sense of self into a tattered image. Not a man. Not a wolf. Not anything. Belonging nowhere.

He approached the woods with curiosity. If he was to plan his exodus from this place, he would like to appreciate it in whatever time he had left in it. His eyes gazing at the trees in idle wonder at their beauty- the blue of the sky illuminating the branches as they grew bare for the oncoming winter.