If I Feel Like Talking, I'll Never Be Wrong

It had been a few days since Ivory had been taken. The Exiler had come looking for Viper, in fact. He had mistaken Ivory for his mother. Ivory had had no intention of giving anyway any information about his pregnant mother's whereabouts. Insults had flown and suddenly the scrawny little serval had been snapped up by the giant lion and carted away. Ivory could not help himself in the slightest. He had snapped and clawed at the black maned lion the entire trek. The man who had taken him had clearly been so far off his rocker, he shouldn't have even been allowed out. That creature was a danger to society. He couldn't believe that his mother-- tiny, scared, weak little Viper-- had ever been friends with such a monster. Ivory couldn't honestly say if it had been worth protecting his mother. Viper would have had the advantage, probably. Viper had more fighting experience than Ivory. Viper was smarter and knew how to escape things like that. Besides, Viper had the perk of a giant, scary Russian to come to his rescue at a moment's notice. Ivory didn't have anyone who loved him enough to come after him. That became even more apparent when no one had come for him. Ivory had been left to bleed out. He had been thankful for the wolf surgeon who had taken care of him. She had kept him alive and comfortable. Even when Ivory forgot everything. He could rank it up there with his most terrifying experiences. He had never felt such pain before. It wasn't that the pain itself was the unbearable part. It was the confusion and disorientation. He couldn't recall what had happened. Ivory had blacked out for days. He could remember repeatedly asking for Alexei and Viper and being so, terribly confused as to why they weren't there. His memories were boxed in to bewilderment of why his mother wasn't there to get him, why he couldn't piece together words and why walking was suddenly so much harder. Above anything else, Ivory wanted to go home. It hadn't made it into his brain that home wasn't where he thought it was. When he had been set free, Ivory hadn't known where to go. It had taken a miracle and the work of about three separate people to direct Ivory where he had come from. It was rather deservalizing. Ivory had never asked for help. Even when he had been at his lowest, he had always been on his own. That was his pride, being an independent man who didn't need his mama, didn't need his boyfriend and most certainly didn't need help. Ivory couldn't exactly walk. He dragged himself along in the most efficient and quickest way he could. The young serval had returned in almost exactly the same spot that he had been taken from. Ivory curled himself up in the leaf litter just beyond the scentline. He had gotten so bored of walking. If they wanted to kill him, they would be doing him a sort of favor. Ivory couldn't have known where Viper was. He didn't know if Alexei had come home yet. In Ivory's mind, he was alone. He knew for certain that Val would be pissed at him. Ivory was pissed at himself too. At first, he had sort of blamed himself, as if he had that power to control whether he had a stroke or not. Then, he had a sense of betrayal. His body had betrayed him and he was utterly worthless now. Ivory couldn't connect the wires in his brain that, sometimes, things just happened, whether he wanted them or not.