| |
|
The world around Gale was nothing but searing pain and a consuming darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. His side—still raw and bloody from the king's interrogation—felt as if it were being torn open again with every breath. The sharp sting of his wounds reverberated through his body, sending waves of agony from his ribs down to his legs. His lungs were struggling to pull in air, each shallow breath coming with a new spike of pain. His limbs felt heavy, as though the very act of moving them required more strength than he had left. His back ached, his entire body aching under the pressure of exhaustion, of the never-ending fight for survival. He was barely aware of Kayla’s presence now. He could feel her close, but it was as though she were on the other side of a thick fog. His body screamed for rest, for release, but every part of him knew he couldn’t afford to stop—not yet. As she shifted him, her hands gently pulling him onto his side, the movement sent another flare of pain through his side, causing his entire body to stiffen. His lips parted as another groan escaped, weak and strained, the pain too much to hold in. He could feel his own muscles trembling, his body betraying him with each small shift. The weight of his bow—once an extension of him—was now far from his reach, its presence only faintly remembered as the world around him became more and more distant. His fingers twitched, but they couldn't grip anything. The bow, once so easily within his control, now lay somewhere beside him, discarded. The thought of trying to reach for it was a distant one, too far out of his grasp. He went still for a moment, letting the darkness pull at him, but the pain kept him tethered to reality. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, a weak attempt to hold onto consciousness. The weight of his injuries, combined with his fatigue, made it feel as if his body was disintegrating beneath him. He let out another soft, muffled groan, his body unable to fight against the oncoming tide of unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered closed, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep them open any longer. The world around him spun in slow motion, his thoughts dissolving into a haze. Every fiber of his being ached, but there was nothing left to give. His muscles, tight and sore, could no longer hold him upright. The pain roared back again, a relentless tide that made him want to scream, but he could barely manage the low moan that slipped past his lips. The reality of his situation settled over him. He was done fighting. His body slumped further, his side aching as he shifted with a sharp wince. The bow lay useless beside him, a cold reminder of his helplessness. His breath was shallow now, slow, and growing weaker by the second. His body finally gave in completely. He fell silent, the darkness taking him, and for a moment, it was all he could do to let the stillness wash over him, the fight slipping from his grasp. And as his body stilled, his mind finally gave up the struggle, surrendering to unconsciousness. |
|  |
|
| |
|
Kayla heard Gale's groan and looked back to him. She knelt beside him and placed a hand on his arm, trying to provide some comfort as best as she could. Her eyes didn't still, though, as she searched the forest for any threats |
|  |
|
| |
|
Gale’s body remained still against the cool earth, his breath shallow but steady, though weak. The weight of exhaustion and pain had overtaken him entirely. His limbs were lifeless, his once sharp instincts dulled by the agony he had endured. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, the cool air brushing against his sweat-slick skin, but it was the quiet that truly settled over him—thick, unnerving, and still. |
| |
|
| |
|
Once Kayla felt they were safe enough for the time being, she sat against the tree and tipped her head back. Truth be told, she was exhausted and ready to sleep, but she didn't want to leave Gale unprotected as he couldn't protect himself |
| |
|
| |
|
Gale's eyelids fluttered open, the world around him nothing but a blur of shapes and shadowed figures. His head felt heavy, as though the weight of it alone was enough to pull him back into the darkness. He blinked several times, trying to clear the fog, but each movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His body ached—no, it throbbed—each beat of his heart pulsing through his wounds. His ribs felt like they were splintering with each breath, and the tightness in his chest made it difficult to fill his lungs. His limbs felt like stone, stiff and uncooperative. For a moment, he just lay there, the disorientation clouding his thoughts. His senses, sluggish and slow to respond, gradually began to piece together where he was. The ground beneath him was uneven, the sound of wind stirring the trees just beyond his hearing. Kayla. She was there, too, but she wasn’t his focus—not yet. Not when everything else was so... confusing. He tried to push himself up, but the effort was feeble at best. His hands, shaking, dug into the earth, but it felt like the world itself was spinning around him. His vision swam, and he let his head fall back against the ground, too weak to fight it. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze to her. Her figure was blurred, her features indistinct. “Last time I checked, I was walking,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, barely a rasp as he spoke. The words were an attempt to pull himself from the haze, a bitter, weak attempt at humor to mask the panic crawling beneath the surface. It was a fleeting thought—just a moment of clarity before the pain came crashing back. His body trembled with the effort of staying conscious, but it was too much. His mind was already starting to slip again, dragging him back into the murky depths of unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered closed, the world around him darkening once more. |
| |
|
| |
|
"Now you're not" She retorted lightly, watching him slip under again. She sighed, angry at the king for inflicting this pain onto him |
| |
|
| |
|
Gale's body felt like it was made of stone, each muscle seizing up with exhaustion. His head spun, and the world around him began to fade, the edges of his vision darkening like the last traces of light slipping beneath the horizon. He could feel the pull of it—the darkness, the weight. His breath came shallow, his chest tight, but each exhale felt like it was taking him further away. The pain, once sharp and consuming, blurred, becoming a dull ache that faded into the background. His thoughts scattered, fragments slipping from his grasp as his mind grew heavier, too tired to hold on. It wasn’t sleep—not yet—but something close. A place between wakefulness and nothingness, where time didn’t exist. His body felt lighter, as if he were sinking, but not with fear. It was the quiet surrender, the giving up of control. His muscles twitched, weak, but there was no strength left to fight. The weight of his limbs pressed him deeper into the dark, until even the desire to move disappeared. There was no moment of clarity, no sudden drop—it was just the slow, inevitable slide into silence. The world faded, and with it, Gale’s hold on reality slipped away. |
| |
|
| |
|
Kayla kept her hand on his arm, her eyes still watching for any form of pursuit |
| |
|
| |
|
Gale’s mind clawed its way back from the depths, a faint tug at the edges of his consciousness. It wasn’t sudden—more like the slow, reluctant rise of the tide after a storm. His body ached in places he couldn’t even name, but there was something else now, something sharp and insistent. The edges of the darkness were pulling away, and though his head swam, it was enough to bring him to the surface, gasping for a breath he didn’t remember needing. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else—heavy, uncooperative—but he could feel them again, stretching, twitching beneath him. The ground was hard and unforgiving beneath him, and the cold air on his skin snapped his senses back into place, clearer now, though still not fully whole. A dull throb pulsed in his side, like a steady reminder of what he’d just escaped. His chest was tight, breath shallow, but the haze that had once swallowed him began to thin. Slowly, painfully, he forced his eyes open. The world was blurry at first, each shadow and outline indistinct. His mind raced to catch up, but the confusion was overwhelming. He took a breath, a sharp intake that sent a jolt of pain through him, making him wince. His vision finally sharpened, and he saw nothing but the canopy above, the faint light of day creeping through the trees. No Kayla. No sounds. Just the quiet of the forest. With an effort that felt like lifting a mountain, he shifted slightly, his hands pressing weakly into the ground to help him sit up. His body screamed at him, but the cold air felt good, and it was enough to keep him from slipping back into the dark. He forced out a murmur, though his voice cracked with the effort. “Where…” The words were weak, his throat dry, but the silence of the forest stretched on, and it felt as though nothing could answer him—not yet. Not until he was fully back. But even as his mind fought to fully awaken, Gale knew he couldn’t rest. Not yet. Not until he figured out where they were, and what came next. |
| |
|
| |
|
"Gale?" She asked quietly, hearing his voice |
| |
|
Snow and Sleet Mix, Clearing at Night
