Everything hurt. 

He had no idea how long he had been walking, or how many suns had set and risen within that span of time. Everything was a blur of darkness and pain. Most people would have already tried to end their lives, but he knew that he deserved to suffer. It wouldn't take too long, just one more day, or hour, or minute. His body was decaying from the inside out, rotting away from the silver that flowed through his system like water. 

His lungs quivered with each inhale and exhale, struggling to accommodate enough oxygen within their damaged tissue. 

With only the faint rasp of his breathing and the shuffling of his feet within the leaf litter meeting his ears, Marquise continued his trudge through the dense forest around him. 

It wasn't that he hadn't come across any threats since he'd left his former home, either. He had most definitely been found quite quickly by all manner of creatures. He had no doubt that they had been attracted by the smell of decay coming from his body, but most of them must have been scavengers, because they simply followed him, curious as to why he wasn't dead yet, but not willing to try and deliver a final blow. 

Even some wild werewolves had found him a while ago, and while they had growled and griped about him intruding on their territory, not a single one had dared to get close enough to bite. 

They didn't trust him, and he wasn't surprised in the least. He smelled like death, yet for some reason, somehow, he was still walking. They had followed him for quite some distance, though, only stopping after he evidently crossed into a different territory.  

He had also removed his shoes some time ago after tripping one too many times as he dragged his aching feet. His long coat had been discarded some time later as its weight had been too much for his deteriorating body to continue carrying. Now, his right hand was completely black, likely planning on being the next item he left behind. 

An extended period of time passed before he realized something and finally slowed to a stop near a large lake. 

Ah... a storm about to begin. 

He hadn't noticed it while deep within the dense forest, but now that he had wandered into a large opening, he could just-barely see the darkening clouds and hear the faint rippling of water on the surface of the lake before him as it was whipped up into little waves by the wind. 

Licking his dry, cracked lips, Marquise slowly inched his way down the slight incline leading to the water. His bare toes brushed against tall grass and moist dirt as he got closer to its edge.

This seems like a nice place to rest forever. 

He inched forward a few more steps before glancing downward. He was already missing his right eye, and with his left one absolutely exhausted from his refusal to sleep, it was barely able to make out the soft, watery mud he'd walked into. 

With his mind momentarily distracted from the constant pain he was in, Marquise carefully lowered himself into the cool water and dirt mixture settled just beneath its rippling surface. 

The water from the lake flowed just close enough to where he was to keep a few inches of it above the mud, but that was perfectly fine. He'd just needed to sit and for some reason, he chose the wet spot over the dry. 

It didn't matter either way in the long run, so he didn't care if he finished ruining his dirty clothing. 

Licking his lips again, he lifted his right hand close to his face in order to look it over. Its bandage had fallen off some time ago, revealing dark skin and the rotting flesh just beneath its surface. The discoloration had already begun to travel up his wrist, too. 

At least I will likely die before I lose my entire arm. 

A few droplets of water tapped against the top of his dark-haired head a moment later, drawing his attention upward as the sky began to release the rain it had been consolidating. 

"Mmm," he hummed as he slowly leaned back until his body settled within the mud. 

It felt good. Not simply because he had always enjoyed the feeling of rain on his body, but because, for the first time in as long as he could remember, no one cared what he did. No one was watching him, expecting something more. He was not an alpha that had to be careful with his every move. He didn't have to watch his back or care about behaving unprofessionally for fear of whispers. 

In fact...

Allowing a rare, tired smile to grace his chapped lips, he let his exhausted body slowly roll onto its side, closer to the deeper mud, then with a little more effort, onto its belly for a brief moment, then back onto its back. Mud immediately soaked through the remaining dry portion of his messy shirt and cooled his skin as he minutely moved his head back and forth, making his already-dark hair look like quite the sight.

When he had been a young pup his wolf had absolutely loved rolling in mud. Of course, his parents had stopped that habit with a few well-placed bites and loud snarls, but every once in a while he'd allow his pup to take over and enjoy itself for a very brief time when no one was around. 

When he'd moved to the city, however, those little escapes had been quashed altogether. Being an alpha was nothing to scoff at, and being one that assisted other packs while still fully managing its own large one was daunting and exhausting. 

Not to mention that he'd had to force his wolf to accept silver injections in secret, too, in order to procure their safety. Even though it hadn't helped in the end...  

"Take this one moment of peace. You don't deserve it, but who is around to care enough to stop you?" he told himself as he slowly rolled onto his side and nuzzled the left side of his face into the soft mud. 

A close-lipped smile tugged his lips upward again as he rolled back onto his other side and kicked his bare foot into the mud as his left hand did the same, sending a bit of water and mud flying. 

He rolled around for quite some time before settling onto his back again to catch his breath and stare up at the darkening sky after wiping off his left eye and right eye patch.

"I haven't done that in years..." he whispered as he panted, the sound of the increasing rainstorm swallowing his words with ease. 

"I'm sorry that you can't be here for this," he added as he searched inside of himself, but knew that he would find nothing. 

He had intentionally crippled his wolf. Even though he had done it for the greater good, his wolf didn't understand that, and it definitely didn't have to forgive him for it, either. Hell, he didn't forgive himself, because starting those injections had lead to a lot more wolves suffering and several even dying when he could no longer handle the experiments by himself. He deserved to lose his wolf and die a slow, painful death. 

Marquise remained where he was until the storm began pushing the water from the lake higher and higher on his body, eventually getting close to covering his mouth. 

Forced to move, because drowning was still the one thing that terrified him, he groaned as his body protested. The mud had been fun while he'd been rolling around, but after lying in it for the better half of an hour, it had sunk its claws into his clothing and wrapped itself around his tired body with ease. Thus, sitting up took nearly all of his remaining energy. 

He was just teetering from side to side, doing his best to stay upright as the water level continued to slowly rise, when he noticed something in the corner of his eye that he was sure hadn't been there before. 

Blinking as the pouring rain tried to obscure his vision further than it already was, Marquise did his best to focus on the blurry figure that was now slowly moving toward him. He was just about to try his luck getting out of the mud again when he felt something suddenly bite his leg! 

He jumped, but even being startled didn't give him enough energy to free himself as the water settled around his midsection. 

He tried to catch a glimpse of whatever had nipped at him, but the storm was churning up the water, making it impossible to see beneath the surface. 

"They never pass up a chance to feed on rotting flesh." 

The calm, cold timbre that met his ears immediately drew Marquise's attention away from the water and up to the person he had seen from a distance moments ago. Except, the man had moved much closer and was now staring down at him from only a meter or so away, a silver umbrella held perfectly above his head. He was just far enough away, in fact, to not get mud on his shoes. 

Marquise tried to piece together exactly what the man had said with his muddled mind as the wind howled and the torrential rain tried to drown out every other sound, but he didn't get the chance before he felt something bite his leg again, then immediately snap at his badly damaged right hand! 

He quickly swiped his left hand down into the thickening mud to try and scare off whatever was biting him, then, after a few more failed attempts to free himself, he managed to turn his body enough to at least get onto his knees and lift his rotten hand out of the water. 

"I've never seen such a rotten dog..." 

Marquise had managed to hear the man's words well this time since the rain was beginning to subside to a normal shower now. He didn't exactly have anything to say in response, though. He wasn't going to ask for help, and he doubted that the man standing before him planned to offer any. 

Forcing himself not to simply give up yet, he reached toward the less muddy land a foot or so away and dug his dull fingernails into the dirt. He even used his rotted hand, though it barely gave him any purchase whatsoever, it felt like a waste if he didn't at least try. He no longer had any sensation besides pain in those fingertips, but when that hand reached forward a second time and somehow found a risen tree root within the tall grass and dirt, he forced his fingers to try and wrap around it. 

When that failed, however, he pushed that hand a tiny bit farther, then used his wrist bone, which had begun to protrude because he hadn't eaten for quite some time, to slip behind the root. It wasn't ideal and hurt like hell, but with his left hand digging into the ground and his right wrist partially pressed behind the wayward tree root, he managed to kick and squirm his way out of the muddy water just far enough to collapse beyond the fishes' reach. 

The frustrated splashes that occurred right after he got out of range made him give a pathetic, silent chuckle as he nuzzled against the cold grass. 

His pathetic celebration was quickly cut short when his exhausted body tensed and pain radiated from his rotten hand. He looked up with his blurry left eye and saw that he had unintentionally crawled directly toward the other man, who must have squatted down and grabbed some sort of small, sturdy stick and lifted his damaged hand once he'd gotten close enough.

"I don't believe I've ever seen wolves intentionally poison each other. Your species is more or less the tear it apart type when it comes to disputes... so why are you rotting from the inside out?" the man asked, though clearly didn't really expect a response since he didn't even bother to move in order to look him in the eye. 

"My lord?" 

He considered trying to see the newcomer, but Marquise had already shut his one eye a moment earlier and let his body give up trying to move any further. He was completely spent, so what would it matter if he saw the other man or not? There was not a single ounce of energy left in his body to react to anything they might do. 

"Report," the man closer to him said to the other, though he seemed distracted as he continued to examine Marquise's hand with the stick. 

The other man gave him a quick rundown of the patrol he'd evidently just gone on. There were no wolves in the area... for more than twenty miles in any direction. There were no scents, no marks, and no traces of them at all. 

"Good. I think they've finally figured out that stepping into my territory is an immediate death sentence." 

As the man closest to him spoke, he used the firm stick to bend Marquise's damaged fingers backwards, perhaps to emphasize his mistake in coming to his territory. It hurt, but thankfully his body had just had enough and the pain dwindled into numbness within a few short moments. 

The man seemed to become bored without any kind of reaction, so he let his hand fall back down to the ground and tossed the stick away as Marquise heard him stand up in one smooth, fluid motion. 

"I'm heading back. Throw him into the lake... the fish look hungry." 

He heard some sort of affirmative response, but his hearing was going in and out as his consciousness began to slip. The thought of drowning terrified him, but at least he would likely pass out before it happened. It would be an okay way to die. 

Right as he finished those thoughts he felt a strong hand wrap around his upper arm and easily lift him off the ground. His entire body sagged. Not a single muscle dared to try and resist, but for some reason, instead of being thrown away into the water, his body just continued to hang there, his life suspended by what felt like a single, tiny thread. 

As his mind finally drifted off into complete darkness, he felt his body begin to move again, but his lungs didn't fill with water, and nothing was biting at him. He wasn't sure what the other man was doing, but considering his own condition, he just couldn't find the energy to care anymore. If he never woke up again, then so be it.