Fleek awoke with a pounding headache, cursing himself for being pushed into the first wave of attack. He had struggled with the man thing until it had knocked his head against one of their transports, it was a surprise that he was alive. It must’ve been because nothing could kill something as beautiful as a Gnoll, Fleek thought with pride, puffing up his chest and wincing at the bruises it aggravated.
He surveyed his surroundings, still under a wagon, and the air was heavy with the comforting scent of his packbrothers an blood. They must’ve won the battle and were busy looting the corpses. They would be left as sign not to cross the newly forged Dog Nation boundaries.
He carefully flipped himself onto his belly and wriggled toward the sound of others.
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