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An hour had passed since he had awoken in a sea of blood - his blood and not his blood, but his all the same. He wasn't sure how he was alive or what the glimmering of another land inside a sparkling tunnel was, but he saw prey, he saw land, and he saw no other wolves. He could want for nothing more, and his instincts pointed him there, as if all the pain and beatings he had took as a ship battered around in the storm of what was his life had all been a pointless waiting for this moment. The thought angered him and he had little energy left to spare or to use on pointless thinking. He was wolf, he lived in the present, so he willed his brain to shut down and instead his legs to use what precious little energy he could muster up to move forwards, walking, gagging, gurgling, slowly but steadily until he stood on unfamiliar ground. This place was lonlier and  more devastated than where he had come from; it suited him well.