Handle With Care

Death

Ryder on the top

I never truly gave my death much thought. Then again, I don't suppose anyone does. Not really. Though, now, laying so tiredly in this soft and somewhat blindingly pale snow, I didn't have to wonder about my death anymore. I knew. My death would be handled by the uncaring hands of hunters. I should have seen it coming, honestly. Amongst my many years of wandering, nothing else that could have killed me, did.

The aftershock of the hunters' attack didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, with the wounds they gave me having been inflicted by silver and all. Instead, it felt rather tranquil, with the snow falling slowly and gently around me, creating a sense of silent peace. As if the snowflakes knew a creature was dying in their midst, and were paying their silent respects. Their chill felt nice, soothing both my torn flesh and abnormal body heat. From my peripheral vision, I could see my vibrant red blood seeping into the snow that had already fallen, the colors clashing in both a terrifying yet calming way. It reminded me of how I was inching closer and closer to death.

However, I wasn't necessarily terrified. No, the more calming effects of the artistic clash was what had hold of my mind. If I had to be quite honest, I hadn't really feared my own death for quite a while, not since I witnessed its work first-hand. Now, put someone I deeply cared about in the path of Death, and I am certainly, completely, terrified. Then, again, who isn't. If your soul wasn't little to nothing, and your heart wasn't as cold as the snow I currently laid amongst, then anyone would be frightened of a loved one dying. However, the thought of another person growing to mean that much to me again, had proven to be trivial. An idea quickly cast aside simply because of the impossibility of it ever becoming a reality. I had given up on any kind of loving company a long time ago.

The only life-affecting matters I had to worry about now, was what was going to happen to me when Death claimed my soul. I wondered if perhaps I would get to see the ones I have longed so painfully for these past seven long years. Perhaps, if that were to happen, I could be able to smile, a gesture that I struggled to come even remotely close to accomplishing. Perhaps, I could be able to not only smile, but laugh as well, maybe even cry tears of joy instead of hopeless longing. Perhaps, if that were to happen, I could actually be happy.

Shouldn't be too long, now.

My eyes, heavy with exhaustion, drifted closed as I took in my surroundings one last time. My sensitive ears picked up the gentle rustling of bare branches that belonged to the trees that surrounded me, the soft pitter-patter of snowflakes landing on my skin and the forest I resided in, the few tiny chirps from birds that could bear the cold, and occasionally, the chittering of a mammal who wasn't currently in hibernation. My nose took in the crisp smell of chilly air and dry bark, along with the faint scent of charred flesh. Though, I ignored that little part.

It was a peaceful place to die, I had to say. The atmosphere filled me with a sense of melancholy, but I didn't mind, not at all. It certainly wasn't the worst I had ever felt. In fact, considering the emotions that have accompanied me these past seven years, it was the most relaxing feeling I had had the pleasure of greeting. Yes, this was definitely a satisfying way to die, in my eyes.

The exhaustion that hummed throughout my being didn't give me the strength to open said eyes again, and although they weren't open, I could feel them clouding over with a darkness that I knew didn't originate from the backs of my eyelids. My body felt heavier, the aches from my wounds becoming surprisingly dull.

This must be it... I said to myself, though in my mind of course, since my lack of strength kept me from being able to mutter it aloud. My ears continued to listen to the calming sounds of the wilderness I gratefully welcomed, my nose still breathing in the crisp winter air as, slowly, my mind grew more hazy. Little bit by little bit, the sounds around me appeared more thick and less comprehensible, more distant, as if drifting miles away by each kiss a snowflake would land on my cheek.

I sighed once more, taking in my last breath as everything started to fade away for good. I was ready, I was ready to die.

However, before I could slip away entirely, I caught something different. Something out of place, and peculiar. Through the stiff bristled hairs in my nose, I smelled dead burning grass, and ashes. A curious scent, but I was much too tired to think anything about it. And, if I heard correctly, through my thick void of passing, I heard the soft crunching of snow as if made by footfall.

I briefly wondered if those hunters had come to retrieve their kill, and I briefly thought to myself how much of a waste that was, and that was the last thing I remembered as I took the hand of Death, and allowed him to guide me away.