Grandeur Defector

I

Quiet, delicate rain of mid-June's softness showered the jungle's ground, the pitter-patter of droplets colliding with the earth. The sound of feathered paradise birds chirping their familiar tune in a melody that sounded like summer filled the canopy. Massive, ivy green leaves faltered imperfectly under the weight of water, the fresh drops sliding down the silky surface and onto the mud; like tears of God, they soaked the ground in somber silence without words. Everything was in order, as it should be....except, it wasn't.
That would be too convenient.

Upon the water's edge where a rushing waterfall roared in the distance, an anthropomorphic tiger— a familiar shape in this universe yet foreign in every other— lay on his stomach, cold and motionless against the damp dirt. Nothing of him moved to the sound around him; it was the pain that he awoke from. His right ear twitched as consciousness returned with minimal clarity, overwhelming his senses as life breathed into him once more. He opened his eyes with a pained wince against his headache, and said nothing.
God, his lungs ached.
Every breath felt as if oxygen were to be fought for, wheezing and tight-chested. He coughed hard twice, swallowed the dryness in his throat, and groaned in pain.

...What-?
The man tried to move, the water lapping at his nose uncomfortably close; as he pulled his furred head out of the shallow water, his body shook with exhaustion and the remaining scraps of adrenaline he still had in his blood. Slowly, he picked himself up, aware of the strange agony his right leg was in; although he'd hardly moved for hours, he was already breathless from the effort. Water rolled off of his stained dark blue uniform as the figure of a disheveled man stood— a man lost in more ways than one.
His weight shifted, right leg too weak to endure gravity, uncomfortably limp and lame. He glanced up as the light of the afternoon sun shines in his amber eyes, the reflection of life glittering in his irises. Behind him roared a waterfall, boulders jutting from behind its waters as it hit the sparkling azure pool beneath. Lily pads swayed to the rippling waves the man had created, their stems like anchors against a storm. Towards the waterfall it descended in depth, deepening its blue hue as tropical fish swam, scarce in numbers. He squinted at one of the pool's exposed rocks, eyes landing on one; its granite surface was smeared with blood that had since dried in an ugly, unnatural pattern. It looked like dye against water, artificially placed amongst beautiful scenery.
He glanced at his leg, disturbed.
I must've fell quite a distance...

He audibly sighed, his soaked tail twitching in annoyance at himself. All of his royal blue fur was muddied, bones cold from the exposure even with the sun's rays on his pelt. How long had it been? Had it been hours?
Of course I fell.
That's just what I needed. Great. I feel just... great. Get moving or die, Eleven.

He took a short step, then yelped at his leg's horrific crunching noise. He didn't dare look closely to see what the damage was; he already knew it was broken by that oh, so familiar sound. Bones slid on top of each other in a way unnatural, and he shut his eyes tightly to ignore the oncoming memory.

...
A man being blundered to death, the sounds of his skull cracking and breaking to pieces. A flurry of murderous claws accompanied by the sound of cackling, manically amused laughter as soldiers had their fun. The victim of choice's tethered, leather wallet fell from his bloody t-shirt, ripped and worn. A picture of his family slid out— either by gravity or by the universe's hatred— two kids at his sides and a wife smiling wide with not a care in the world.
Eleven picked it up, morbidly curious. They looked so happy in the photograph, but he never understood how anyone could be happy in the world they lived in.
It's not enough.
His comrade tapped his shoulder, eyes glaring down at him. The man made a simple head nod towards him, curtly cold and a silent order. Eleven stared at the soldier for a moment, then crinkled the picture in his claws.
There was no emotion on his face.
That wasn't allowed.
...