The first sensation he recognized was metal piercing flesh. He gurgled in agony as his lungs scraped against the steel rod which had pierced his breast, pinning him to the deck of his ship like a butterfly. He couldn't even scream. The best he could do was pant small, shallow breaths.
Blood welled in his throat, burning and gagging as he exhaled. The stench of blood filled the air; the scent of his own impending death. One dark wing lay shattered beneath him, bone piercing skin and feathers, while the other had no sensation whatsoever. He tried to move his arm, but the agonizing stab of pain told him it was broken. His other arm and wing lay pinned beneath the collapsed bridge and he could not feel his legs. He had no idea whether they were trapped, broken, or severed completely from his body.
His head throbbed as though someone had just hit him with a club. He tried to remember his name, who he was and how he had gotten here, but his mind drew a blank. It didn't matter. No living creature could sustain these kinds of injuries and survive.
‘So this is it,’ he thought. ‘The end...’
A single tear escaped; the sting of salt as it passed over a cut oddly sharp even through the pain of his other injuries. Alone. He had always known that he would die alone.
He closed his eyes and prayed to pass quietly into the void, to feel his life slip from his body so his pain would end, but he didn't. Even close to death, some part of him, the part that remembered who he was, whispered for him to fight. Survive. Live another day. Smite those who had done this to him, even though he had no recollection of who he fought or what he was fighting for.
Long after he should have passed from this world, he continued to fight for each and every breath.