breath rattles heavy in his chest, taut around his lungs. he hardly feels the ache in his leg, but his eye— or rather, what once was his eyes, aches something terrible. the pain stretches from his head to his jaw, and the bleeding has hardly slowed. but he is as stubborn a man as he is cruel, and rourke will not allow sleep to claim him now.
the startled flight of fearful birds puts him on alert, and a throaty growl spills from his lips, one that dies when he sees it is only a child passing through. the barbarian does not acknowledge her, only grunts and carries on his way with lumbering, limping stride.