Descent Into Darkness

As the wolves released their vice-like grip, I found myself unceremoniously sprawled upon the unforgiving ground. My entire being throbbed with unrelenting pain, limbs aflame with searing torment, and my head pulsating in an agonizing rhythm. 

Blood and sweat had congealed on my skin, forming a repulsive, viscous layer, while the dirt, with cruel intent, invaded the open wounds that now marred my battered frame. The insidious threat of infection loomed ominously over me, a spectral harbinger of doom that would persist long after the immediate ordeal was over.

Despite the excruciating pain that coursed through me, I refused to resign myself to death's clutches. I clung to a desperate glimmer of hope, telling myself that my wrist wasn't shattered, my back wasn't torn, and my arms bore no bite marks. It had to be my imagination running wild, right? Admittedly, I still felt as though I were teetering on

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