Darkness is instantaneous as we enter the throng of talons. There are so many of them that only sparsely dappled sunlight can find its way down through the maze of dark tendrils. Blood Horse slows down as we wind our way deeper into the forest. Our progress is marred by the endless twists and turns we have to take in order to navigate around their thick trunks. Between the limited light and density of the talons the only thing that seems to grow here is a weird sort of moss that coats the ground. It has a light bluish hue that seems like it shouldn’t exist. I didn’t think moss could be blue. My ponderings about blue moss were stopped short as I felt something hot and heavy land on my shoulder. I looked down to my right, his dark hair draped over my shoulder hiding his face as his head rested there. Well this is one hundred percent not okay. What is he doing? Does he like to do this sort of thing to strange girls after a fight? What kind of weirdo is he? I clear my throat and sit forward a bit hoping that he’ll take a hint and get off of me. Instead I feel his head slide down off my shoulder to my back, just above my pack. After a minute my rational brain kicks in. He was severely injured before we started fighting. Then he got attacked and after rode a steroid horse for at least a half hour. That’s a lot of toll to put on an injured body. As that thought clicks in my mind I can feel his head sliding to the side of my back. My arms fling to the sides behind me, grasping him tightly before I can think. His sliding movement stops, but this position is awkward for my arms, plus he’s heavy. His lack of reaction confirms my guess that he’s passed out. My eyes glance down. The ground looks far from on top of Blood Horse, too far for a fall not to hurt. I bring my gaze back up and look around. There’s a talon to my right that’s only about a foot away from us. If I can lean him against there I can turn around. If I’m facing him maybe then I can wake him up. Seems like it’s worth a shot, my arms are starting to burn from holding such an unnatural position for too long. I take a deep breath and hold it as I slightly lean to my right. I can feel his body follow my movements as it slowly shifts to the right. I guide his sliding movement with my arms, gently allowing him to slide until his head and shoulder leaned against the talon. I let out my breath when he seems stable. I remove my arms slowly, cautious in case he starts to slip. As long as Blood Horse doesn’t move, he should be fine. Once I have my arms back I put them in front of me. Using Blood Horse as support I carefully lift one leg, twist my torso with the leg over to one side, then lift my other leg and swing it back over to the other side. Fully turned, I can finally inspect Shirtless. His torso is completely covered in a mix of wet and dry blood. I didn’t think to notice it before but now I reach out my hand and touch his arm. His skin is damp and too hot. His chest is moving in short shallow breaths. He’s lost too much blood, too injured. If I don’t get him off this horse he’s not going to live long. I sigh as I glance back down at the ground. I couldn’t even get on this horse by myself. There’s no way I can get the both of us down without breaking our necks. He’s gotta wake up. “Hey,” I say, hoping some noise will help rouse him. Nothing changes. I clap my hands in front of his face, then poke his forehead. Nothing works. I groan as my frustration rises with every failure. “Get up already! You can sleep when you get us down,” I shout at him. The most I get is an eyelid twitch. I growl as I reach up and peel open his eyes. “Wake up!” I shout at him again. His eyes that had rolled up moved down, looking at me but not really focusing. I let out a sigh of relief as he shakes his head slightly into consciousness. The effort seems to really strain him. He doesn’t even notice my hands on the side of his face. He just looks annoyed at me, like I interrupted his nap. I don’t care. “We need to get down,” I say each word slowly, hoping that they all sink in. For added effect I gesture to the ground then back to him. His eyes follow my gesture and after a moment they seem to register my meaning. I let my hands fall away from his face and he grunts as he sits up, no longer leaning against the talon. He leans forward towards me and I put my hands up in front of me, afraid he’s going to pass out again. Instead he reaches his arm past my head, towards Blood Horse’s ear. He snaps his fingers twice and then the animal starts to move. It lowers itself until it is laying on its stomach. That seems to be all the energy Shirtless has left because as soon as Blood Horse is on the ground he falls to the side, collapsed on the ground, his eyes shutting. I scramble off Blood Horse’s back and crouch at his side. Sliding my pack off and I frantically rifle through it. I may not know much about medicine but I know the basics of how to use a first aid kit. I pull out the small kit that I stashed in a side pocket. It’s not huge, but it has gauze and antiseptic. I just hope it’s enough to treat most of his wounds. When I inspect him close up, it becomes apparent that not all of the wounds I had seen before are open. They are all thin, shallow gashes that mark his entire torso. Some are only a few inches long, some span his whole chest. The small ones might fade but the larger ones will probably scar. Many are in the process of healing, about a few days old, maybe even a week. Some, though, are definitely fresh. Those are the ones I’ll focus on first. My mind is quick and my hands precise as I clean and dress his wounds. By the end my hands are full of blood and the gauze is almost completely depleted, but at least everything that was bleeding is covered. Next I search for my drug container. I pull out the small purple plastic container. It’s about the size of my palms and a few inches deep. I peel the lid off and look at the contents. I’m glad I believe in being prepared. From my stash of pills I extract two Tylenol. As a person who suffers from occasional migraines, keeping drugs on hand becomes a necessary convenience. I put the lid back on the container then fetch out my bottle of water. Moving into a kneeling position beside his head, I lift Shirtless’s head and rest it in my lap. I use one hand to tilt his mouth open and the other to put the pills in. Slowly, I pick up the water, pulling open the nozzle with my teeth and bring it in front of his mouth. I squeeze the bottle gently, allowing the water to pour out slowly into his mouth. For a moment I worry that he’s just going to cough, or won’t swallow the pills, but I watch his throat move as he swallows the water, taking the pills with it. I let out a breath of relief as I give him a bit more water before setting the bottle aside. My fingers fumble slightly as I reach down to the sweater I had tied on earlier that day. take off the sweater I’m wearing. It had quickly become a scorching day so I had removed it early on. It didn’t fit in my pack with all my other stuff so I sufficed to tie it around my waist. Now, I fold it the soft fabric neatly and set it down on the ground. Gently cradling the back of his head, I place Shirtless’s head down on it, using it as a pillow to free my lap. With his wounds dressed and his body resting I lean back against a nearby talon and let my head fall back against it. My eyes shut as my body goes limp. How did I get here? Surrounded by strange talon things, accompanied by a half dead, half dressed man, and being chased by two potential murderers in a world with a white sky. Do I have a genius imagination or am I just crazy? Everything feels so real, my fear, the panic, it’s all so vivid. It doesn’t matter though, I just want to go back. I’m ready to wake up now.
Well this is one hundred percent not okay. What is he doing? Does he like to do this sort of thing to strange girls after a fight? What kind of weirdo is he? I clear my throat and sit forward a bit hoping that he’ll take a hint and get off of me. Instead I feel his head slide down off my shoulder to my back, just above my pack. After a minute my rational brain kicks in.
He was severely injured before we started fighting. Then he got attacked and after rode a steroid horse for at least a half hour. That’s a lot of toll to put on an injured body. As that thought clicks in my mind I can feel his head sliding to the side of my back. My arms fling to the sides behind me, grasping him tightly before I can think. His sliding movement stops, but this position is awkward for my arms, plus he’s heavy. His lack of reaction confirms my guess that he’s passed out.
My eyes glance down. The ground looks far from on top of Blood Horse, too far for a fall not to hurt. I bring my gaze back up and look around. There’s a talon to my right that’s only about a foot away from us. If I can lean him against there I can turn around. If I’m facing him maybe then I can wake him up. Seems like it’s worth a shot, my arms are starting to burn from holding such an unnatural position for too long. I take a deep breath and hold it as I slightly lean to my right. I can feel his body follow my movements as it slowly shifts to the right. I guide his sliding movement with my arms, gently allowing him to slide until his head and shoulder leaned against the talon. I let out my breath when he seems stable. I remove my arms slowly, cautious in case he starts to slip. As long as Blood Horse doesn’t move, he should be fine.
Once I have my arms back I put them in front of me. Using Blood Horse as support I carefully lift one leg, twist my torso with the leg over to one side, then lift my other leg and swing it back over to the other side. Fully turned, I can finally inspect Shirtless. His torso is completely covered in a mix of wet and dry blood. I didn’t think to notice it before but now I reach out my hand and touch his arm. His skin is damp and too hot. His chest is moving in short shallow breaths. He’s lost too much blood, too injured. If I don’t get him off this horse he’s not going to live long.
I sigh as I glance back down at the ground. I couldn’t even get on this horse by myself. There’s no way I can get the both of us down without breaking our necks. He’s gotta wake up.
“Hey,” I say, hoping some noise will help rouse him. Nothing changes. I clap my hands in front of his face, then poke his forehead. Nothing works. I groan as my frustration rises with every failure. “Get up already! You can sleep when you get us down,” I shout at him. The most I get is an eyelid twitch. I growl as I reach up and peel open his eyes. “Wake up!” I shout at him again. His eyes that had rolled up moved down, looking at me but not really focusing. I let out a sigh of relief as he shakes his head slightly into consciousness. The effort seems to really strain him. He doesn’t even notice my hands on the side of his face. He just looks annoyed at me, like I interrupted his nap. I don’t care.
“We need to get down,” I say each word slowly, hoping that they all sink in. For added effect I gesture to the ground then back to him. His eyes follow my gesture and after a moment they seem to register my meaning. I let my hands fall away from his face and he grunts as he sits up, no longer leaning against the talon. He leans forward towards me and I put my hands up in front of me, afraid he’s going to pass out again. Instead he reaches his arm past my head, towards Blood Horse’s ear. He snaps his fingers twice and then the animal starts to move. It lowers itself until it is laying on its stomach. That seems to be all the energy Shirtless has left because as soon as Blood Horse is on the ground he falls to the side, collapsed on the ground, his eyes shutting. I scramble off Blood Horse’s back and crouch at his side. Sliding my pack off and I frantically rifle through it. I may not know much about medicine but I know the basics of how to use a first aid kit. I pull out the small kit that I stashed in a side pocket. It’s not huge, but it has gauze and antiseptic. I just hope it’s enough to treat most of his wounds.
When I inspect him close up, it becomes apparent that not all of the wounds I had seen before are open. They are all thin, shallow gashes that mark his entire torso. Some are only a few inches long, some span his whole chest. The small ones might fade but the larger ones will probably scar. Many are in the process of healing, about a few days old, maybe even a week. Some, though, are definitely fresh. Those are the ones I’ll focus on first.
My mind is quick and my hands precise as I clean and dress his wounds. By the end my hands are full of blood and the gauze is almost completely depleted, but at least everything that was bleeding is covered. Next I search for my drug container. I pull out the small purple plastic container. It’s about the size of my palms and a few inches deep. I peel the lid off and look at the contents. I’m glad I believe in being prepared.
From my stash of pills I extract two Tylenol. As a person who suffers from occasional migraines, keeping drugs on hand becomes a necessary convenience. I put the lid back on the container then fetch out my bottle of water. Moving into a kneeling position beside his head, I lift Shirtless’s head and rest it in my lap. I use one hand to tilt his mouth open and the other to put the pills in. Slowly, I pick up the water, pulling open the nozzle with my teeth and bring it in front of his mouth. I squeeze the bottle gently, allowing the water to pour out slowly into his mouth.
For a moment I worry that he’s just going to cough, or won’t swallow the pills, but I watch his throat move as he swallows the water, taking the pills with it. I let out a breath of relief as I give him a bit more water before setting the bottle aside. My fingers fumble slightly as I reach down to the sweater I had tied on earlier that day. take off the sweater I’m wearing. It had quickly become a scorching day so I had removed it early on. It didn’t fit in my pack with all my other stuff so I sufficed to tie it around my waist.
Now, I fold it the soft fabric neatly and set it down on the ground. Gently cradling the back of his head, I place Shirtless’s head down on it, using it as a pillow to free my lap. With his wounds dressed and his body resting I lean back against a nearby talon and let my head fall back against it. My eyes shut as my body goes limp. How did I get here? Surrounded by strange talon things, accompanied by a half dead, half dressed man, and being chased by two potential murderers in a world with a white sky. Do I have a genius imagination or am I just crazy? Everything feels so real, my fear, the panic, it’s all so vivid. It doesn’t matter though, I just want to go back. I’m ready to wake up now.