Sitting on the crate, Korin Softpaw, a husk of his original self. What horrified Astaroth was not his sunken cheeks, or pale skin, though.
Korin was much more damaged than that.
In his face, two very important things were missing. His eyes.
In their stead, two hollow holes, veiny and red where discerning eyes had once been.
Astaroth also noticed a leg missing, when his gaze lowered a little. In this state, it was a miracle he had survived whatever had happened to him.
Tears started streaming down Astaroth's face, as memories of Korin smiling while they hunted, or when he woke up in the woods with Korin guarding over him. Or every time he had covered his back during patrols.
The Korin in his memories, was what Astaroth had expected to see again. The Korin in his memories was mentally and physically strong.
But the one before him looked like he had given up on life. His face screamed of malnutrition while his body was battered.
