Eight feet up wasn’t very far, objectively-- but from his vantage point and in his addled state, Matteo felt like he’d scaled the entire damn tree to get where he was. A phenomenal undertaking. Full marks. And with his great success, the youth could sit back, relax, and swing his legs peacefully while trusting the lone wolf would soon move on--

--But it didn’t. Squinting in the darkness, deprived of his eyeglasses, Matteo had only his ears to rely on as the beast prowled closer. Listening for a potential attacker in the dark was old hand to him now after a week of labyrinthine tunnels. The wounded Thief went deadly still and silent, trying to hear over the sound of blood pounding in his head as the wolf drew near. 

Some time passed. The animal did not leave.

That eight feet, which had felt so secure only minutes ago, seemed woefully inadequate now. The only reassuring aspect was the stink of blood from the canine, suggesting it had already eaten its fill for the night or was already hurt in its own right. Both possibilities were a relief to Matteo, who wondered for a delirious moment if maybe they [i]could[/i] overcome an injured predator.  [i]Then again, we’re pretty injured ourselves.[/i] Matteo knew for a fact he couldn’t possibly pull off an ambush in his condition. Just the idea made his plethora of injuries flare up in pain. 

The dark-haired youth clenched his teeth, biting back his own voice. Even if they [i]wanted[/i] to coordinate a plan, they had no way of communicating that an animal’s sharp senses wouldn’t be alerted to. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Matteo gripped the branch harder and willed his body to relax, forcing even his pained breathing to be like no noise at all. As the person currently on the lowest rung of the totem pole, tempting fate was not in his best interests. Not this time.