Ethereal | Twilight |

011

Sora fathomed every breath he took, each inhale scouring through his throat like razors dragged across sandpaper; shallow, fought for, and unclean. With his eyelids still shut, he felt Paul slumped against his upper body, the weight of him suffocating, burying his lungs beneath an invisible hill where breath became a privilege he couldn't quite reach. They remained where they had fallen, limbs scattered and battered. He couldn't remember the rest. Only the ruin. Fallen and broken, literally.

His eyes peeled open to the muddied blur of their surroundings, trees looming beyond them like skeletal witnesses, the terrain alien, a no-man's land that neither the pack nor the Cullens had claim to. He looked down at his lap to find Paul draped over him, his legs twisted away, head nestled against Sora's chest, abdomen flush to his own, arms abandoned somewhere out of sight. Sora leaned forward more than he already was, breath splintering in his throat, sharp and fractured, until it spilled from his mouth just beside Paul's ear.

"Hey, Paul?" he whispered, voice like silk fraying at the edges.

His lips nearly grazed the rim of Paul's ear, the warmth of it brushing back against his own. But Paul remained still, unmoving. Only his heartbeat, quiet and persistent, responded. It spoke without words, pulsing against Sora's chest like a tether. You're fine. I'm fine. We're fine.

Sora's gaze dropped to his left arm, a sick sort of wrongness coiling through it. He tried to move it. He dragged it closer to his body and the pain ignited, an inferno crawling beneath his skin, licking up to his shoulder with claws of heat and acid. He seized a breath, clutched it in his lungs, then yanked his arm inward. A wet crackle followed, grotesque and final. His arm shrieked. Raw. Heart-bruised. It roared with pain. Through the dark, lacking the lucidity of his wolf's sight, he could only guess at the damage. Still human. Still blind. But the truth lived in the agony. His arm pulsed, pulsed like it was ready to rupture, to spill its agony across the ground. The type of pain that throbbed loud, hungry, and insistent, desperate to be known.

Adrenaline whispered his name twice each time his gaze fell upon Paul, sprawled beneath him, pressed against his body, breathing faintly. He wondered if any of his bones were broken—fractured, dislocated, or whatever the hell was wrong with his arm. His chest heaved in forced breaths, each inhale sending sharp, stabbing pains radiating through his ribs, as if something had begun to rot beneath taut skin without him knowing—hidden by the darkness that cloaked both of their bodies. His limbs trembled with adrenaline, his teeth clicking in his mouth like shards of glass rattling together. With his better arm—sore, aching, but usable—he pushed Paul aside. The weight resisted at first, forcing him to strain until Paul rolled with a dull thud, collapsing beside him, dark hair veiling his eyes, lips split, face twisted in agony yet still soft, almost fragile. A sickly-sweet scent bloomed across Sora's body like spoiled fruit, cloying and invasive, setting off something vile in his gut. His spine stiffened, every hair on his skin rising with the wind, carrying that distinct, revolting scent—so far away, yet lingering as if it hovered just beneath his nose.

He swore under his breath, and with immediate urgency, tried to stand. Cracks and pops erupted throughout his body—loud, jarring, yet dismissed for Paul's sake. He dragged Paul closer, shifting him behind his back, and with one quick, pained movement, Sora pulled Paul over him. Paul lay sprawled across his body, one of Sora's arms trapped between his legs, the other hooked beneath his limp arm. His legs dragged along the forest floor, his body half-draped across Sora's chest. Sora swallowed the groan rising in his throat, the ache of motion settling into him like bruises carved into his bones. He clenched his eyes shut as Paul slipped from his grasp and hit the ground, the pain yanking him downward like gravity's cruel hand, a scream whispering at the edges of his burnt tongue, aching throat, and dry, split lips. Sora shook his head in frustration, eyes locked on Paul's slumped frame while agony pulsed through him in cruel, rhythmic intervals. The situation only worsened as that familiar, repulsive scent—acidic and rancid—thickened around them. It swelled until his body betrayed him, forcing a gag from his throat that echoed through the trees, his hair standing rigid, mouth slack, his own eyes wide in stunned horror at the violence of his body's response.