Slow. Agonizingly so. Not only am I moving slower, I have to stop every now and then to rest, then have to use all the energy gained to get myself on the move again. On my second stop down the road I noticed the wolf walking behind me, transparent and unclear, walking in a center of a sphere reminding me of the dream-world I met him in. With each step the wolf took the sphere moved along, changing the world in front of him as the world before him returned normal. But I don't need his help; the wounds are slowly healing even without it. Only, the bleeding hasn't stopped and the fever keeps rising. Could be worse, it could be raining...

...Day three of walking; now hoping for rain, for something to drink and wash my face from the blood and sweat. The Sun I liked at the beginning of my journey has become my newest enemy, as its rays scorch my exposed skin. Jinxing for rain it not working, growing delirious and desperate as time passes. The wolf now walks on my right, only ten to twenty feet apart. Keeps himself on my vision, tempting for a way out of this hell. I'm not giving in, for now at least. The hunger brings different kind of pain in the mix of burning fever and stinging wounds, like a craving, an itch one cannot scratch, but always on the mind. Distraction is something I need, but having left the sparse forest behind and walking on the grassy plains leaves me nothing to concentrate on.

Day five or six, with my mind wandering between hunger and pain it starts to be hard to count days or recognize day from night. The hunger has turned from simple craving to actual physical pain and need, a pure need to eat. Wound stopped healing on fourth or fifth day, but bleeding has ceased as of now. Not that it helps, blood loss has forced me to stop more often, and with the healing stopped, so has the generation of new blood. I really need something to eat. The wolf has come closer.

Day anywhere from seven to ten. My body has thinned a lot. It seems that when sufficient amount of meat isn't eaten to heal, the body takes from itself. So, the good news are that my eyes are now fine and wounds gone, bad news are that my body is now thinner than in the beginning, my skin has lost its color and I have no energy to move. The wolf now stands right next to me. He came closer and closer as time passed, till he walked right next to me on my travels. Lack of energy and the fever made me desperate enough to try and ride him. I passed right through as I tried climbing on, been lying on this same spot since then, no energy to move or will to try.

Day I-stopped-counting-as-I-lied-here, hunger isn't getting worse, don't really need to eat but to heal my wounds and satisfy the instinct to hunt, but lack of energy still makes me crave for food. The fever is now the worst of it, Desperation is the second worst. Time passes as I listen the world around me move, watch the wolf as it watches me, wondering why now he's asking for permission when he firstly made me do what it wanted. Then yet again, I'm in quite similar situation than when he cut my leg, forced to choose between death and corruption. Wait, when did I start calling the wolf him instead of it? Doesn't matter, I refuse to give in. But as time passes my desperation becomes greater than my fever, and a desperate man can do things he didn't think he was capable of. Yes, desperate times take desperate measures to solve. That is how I will justify it, that is how I will make myself understand the necessity of it. Or maybe I'm going mad from the fever... Maybe just to spite the wolf?

I feared ending up eating other people or becoming a threat that attacked humans on sight just for the fun of it, but I never even thought I would have to resort in this. Bringing my left hand to my mouth and pressing my teeth on both side of the thin finger, my jaw shuts itself in near automatic reflex. One finger at a time, bitten of from little under the second joint. Not that painful as I expected, my instinct to hunt and eat has always blocked of my other senses. Does nothing for the feeling of bones snapping under my bite or the disgust that comes knowing its my flesh. Nor the enjoyment I get from eating meat.

Enough to get me up and walking. I rip a long shred from my already ruined shirt and tie it around my wrist as a way to suppress the blood flow. Even if my hand ends up dying from that, it would mean more meat for me. And when I find something other to eat, it should grow right back... Right?