For all of its short life, pain had been unknown to the little fawn. That fear and hate were foreign were already bad enough: it had no mechanisms for coping with the internal sensations caused by the shifting of its heart. But those internal sensations were still just that: internal.
Pain was far, far worse. External, visceral, and tangible. Completely out of the fawn's control, the pain seared the flesh of its back, tormenting it no matter how fast it ran. When noises bothered it, then it always had the option of walking away. When smells irritated its nose, it could avoid the cause of the smell. But pain...this was so different, if the fawn, walked, the pain walked. If the fawn ran, the pain ran. Every nerve ending on its back burned, causing tears to drop from the ducts at the corner of each of its eyes.
In its desperation, it cried out, calling for other beings when it knew of none other than the wolf. In the fawn's world, nothing else existed aside from the trees, the bushes, the clearings...water, berries and grass were its companions. Isolated from the world, it had lived in comfort and ease, never knowing want or poverty. But as it found its entire world threatened, the fawn came to the terrifying realization that its isolation translated over to a total lack of support. Without anyone to run to, the fawn stumbled through the woods, frantic and unsure of what to do as it left a bloody trail behind it.
When the wolf belched, the fawn turned back. Due to its own starvation, the wolf had fallen upon the chunk of flesh it had bitten out of the fawn's back. Without even properly chewing, it had struggled to desperately swallow the meat whole, and now found itself impoverished once again. A pitiful creature in its own right, the wolf's ribs and pelvis poked out from beneath its fur. One of its legs looked mangled and crippled, as if it bore old injuries and defects that hampered its movement. Unable to thrive on its own, the wolf had resorted to preying on the fawn in lieu of a true hunt, its ravenous hunger compelling it beyond all possibility of mercy.
The wolf limped forward, its palette for torment wetted. The fawn screamed, crying again for help from others even when it didn't know if others existed or not. The pain grew, utterly destroying any semblance it once had of joy.
