"I'm alive." Wolfram answered, glancing around. On the far side of the flat, he spotted Bleddyn and Sherri slip through a tunnel of earth, his heart pounding. At least they're alive. "So I suppose I'm fine."
'But Connor's...gone.'
He should have expected it. He knew, deep down, that Connor was probably dead. But he didn't except it to hurt that much to be told he was dead. I'm sorry, Connor, I'm so, so sorry! I'm sorry...but I can't do anything about it, can I?
But I'll keep my promise. I won't hurt her. I won't hurt any of them. I'd die for them. You know that, right? Who am I kidding, you're dead. You can't answer me.
"Connor's dead." He rasped, his voice flat and matter of fact. "Pixie? Wait, what Pixie?"
He tried to struggle to his feet, but found that soil wouldn't let him do that. It hurt to much to stand anyway.
He glanced hopelessly at River. "I have to follow them. Stay here. You don't need to get anymore injured." He knew it was a terrible idea for him to even think about shifting in his cat skin, but he couldn't just leave Bleddyn and Sherri to go and find a...Pixie or whatever, by themselves.
It was a terrible idea.
The moment his fully morphed paws touched the ground, he snarled in agony, limping forward a few steps. I can do this. I can do this.
He didn't wait for River to try and stop him. On three legs, his injured foreleg held to his chest, he limped forward, teeth gritting as his ribs protested at the movement. With a soft hiss, he hoisted himself into the tunnel.
He wished he hadn't. He wished he had never even set paw in the tunnel, because the earth closed around him, pressing against his broken ribs, and he could not see anything. But he could hear Sherri and Bleddyn.
They made it through, so can I.