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Description
Pain.

It was the only thing he could feel and copper was the only thing he could smell. Even moving his foot caused breath-taking pain to flare through his leg into his body; Making the other wounds scream in response when he writhed in agony.

Slow, pained inhales and exhales pushed past the blood in his mouth, making a horrible copper taste bloom across his tongue. The cuts on his face and the ones under bandaging bleed, painting his fur an unnatural crimson.

Unending dread crept around his vision, as did black spots; Dread of his end, a painful realization that drudged his failure to his mental forefront.

He failed.

Failed his friends, failed those above him, failed the innocent civilians who would die; He failed.
As though it were a physical blanket, it smouldered his brain and throat, threatening to choke the little bit of life out of him. His heart beat drummed painfully loud against his eardrums, deafening and breath-taking.

Even taking a breath was like shards of glass stabbing his lungs. The noises and sights of the tropical jungle blurred into a horrid mess that hurt his already aching skull. "W-why d-did everything go so...w-"
A bullet cut through his temple, lodging itself firmly into his brain. A fresh string of blood made its down the back of his neck and down his muzzle.

......................

The general of Flippy would never hear back of a report, nor how the assault went. The only thing he would hear was their disappearances and later...their deaths, should the bodies be found.

Description
Pain.

It was the only thing he could feel and copper was the only thing he could smell. Even moving his foot caused breath-taking pain to flare through his leg into his body; Making the other wounds scream in response when he writhed in agony.

Slow, pained inhales and exhales pushed past the blood in his mouth, making a horrible copper taste bloom across his tongue. The cuts on his face and the ones under bandaging bleed, painting his fur an unnatural crimson.

Unending dread crept around his vision, as did black spots; Dread of his end, a painful realization that drudged his failure to his mental forefront.

He failed.

Failed his friends, failed those above him, failed the innocent civilians who would die; He failed.
As though it were a physical blanket, it smouldered his brain and throat, threatening to choke the little bit of life out of him. His heart beat drummed painfully loud against his eardrums, deafening and breath-taking.

Even taking a breath was like shards of glass stabbing his lungs. The noises and sights of the tropical jungle blurred into a horrid mess that hurt his already aching skull. "W-why d-did everything go so...w-"
A bullet cut through his temple, lodging itself firmly into his brain. A fresh string of blood made its down the back of his neck and down his muzzle.

......................

The general of Flippy would never hear back of a report, nor how the assault went. The only thing he would hear was their disappearances and later...their deaths, should the bodies be found.