BLACK

(6) Memory

EDITED

-Oren-

Tops of evergreens swayed before the blinding blue, causing me to grimace. I felt like hurling, like I'd gotten food poison from expired meat. Except my stomach was empty, drained having used up all its energy.

"Easy," A shrill voice comments after my head rolls to one side uncomfortably.

"Dickfarmers," I mumble.

Boone's ugly face intercepts the swaying tree tops, his usual grin replaced with concern. I flinched from the sunlight when the trees started to break apart.

"Not our fault you got yourself left for dead in the middle of bum fuck nowhere," Brock swears.

If I could hit him, I would. Except I'm absolutely drained, and just keeping my eyes open is killing me. The stretchers fabric is itchy and full of tension against my body weight, and my pack members were placing all the weight on their backs instead of their arms, creating sweat to roll down their chests.

"This would go a lot faster if you could shift," Knox lifts near my head, and Boone just continues to walk alongside.

"Did anyone stay back to watch after the pack?" I groan. "I mind linked for one idiot, not three."

"Drop him?" Brock suggests.

"Drop him." Knox agrees.

Their knees bend, jolting my resting body into a shock of agony and fear. "Hey!" I shout trying to sit up for the landing of hard terrain, yet they lift the stretcher back up again with laughter. "Alright, I'm thankful. Thank you for coming to get me."

"Yeah, yeah." Boone says. "We know."

My eyes close after another bump, and it is seconds of the abyss of sleep begging me to join. I blink them open, seeing Boone watching me closely again.

"Stay awake bud, you've got a pack to look after."

"I'm not going to die," I mumble.

At least, I hoped not. The way my friends reacted to my broken body in the woods, it sure looked like I was dead. I couldn't walk, hence the reason to call for help. Both my ankles were sprained, or fractured, or broken. I couldn't tell, but I knew I needed a doctor to set them back in place. My legs were raw with dark, large bruises. They had the width of trees and scrapes of bark, but I couldn't recall a thing. My ribs were definitely broken, my blood smeared all over my body. Pain burst any second I tried to move, so I lied still. It felt as though my limbs had been ripped from my body, and then sewn back on without any morphine. My cheeks were swollen, gums sore and bloody. Boone treated me like a wrongly chromosomed child, constantly wiping my mouth as too much blood bubbled in my saliva.

"And you don't remember anything?"

"Nothing," I spit said blood. "I remember eating spaghetti with Maryse, but that feels like ages ago."

"Meh," Brock turns to face Knox as they start to climb down a mountains edge. "Just four days ago."

"What happened since then?" I ask.

"Well," Boone switches places with Knox while he jumps down, taking the stretchers arms back into his grip so Boone can come down too. "We went clubbing after your meeting with the council to relieve some stress, but the more and more you drank, the more aggravated you became. It got to the point if even one thread of another man's suit touched you, you would shove them away. Then you said you needed some air, and didn't answer any of our calls since."

"Not me," I wince as even breathing terrorizes my lungs. "My shifter. He's the one that takes over."

"Yeah, him. It."

"The thing."

"How long was I gone?"

"This is the fourth day."

I suck in sharply. "That's the longest yet. He's getting stronger."

"That's one way of putting it," Boone wipes my crimson drool again. The edge of his shirt is quickly soaking with blood.

"Is this all your blood?" Brock looks over his strained shoulder.

"I have no idea." I start to feel too tired.

Boone snaps in my face. "Ren, stay awake."

"I couldn't fall asleep if I tried," I admit. "He's always on edge lately."

"By the way, you should probably apologize to Maryse. Yo— the thing got really snippy with her the last time you were home."

I curse.

"Is he like suicidal or something? It looks like he ran you off of a cliff over and over again."

I sigh, "I feel like it. The beast must have a grudge, or something."

"Or something," Knox readjusts his grip.

"Easy," Boone repeats his comment as I hiss from the healing slashes on my back.

"Well do you want to carry a two eighty Alpha?" Knox snaps.

I watch Boone's mouth fly open, ready to charge. "Guys!" I clear my throat. "Please, I just need to get home and sleep where its secure. I feel like I haven't stopped sprinting for days."

"The bone is sticking out of your ankle," Boone changes his reply. "Maybe you haven't. How's your stomach?"

"Eating itself. I'm only hydrated cause I keep swallowing my blood."

"Not sure it was just you, O." Knox says. "Those slashes on your back are claws, I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure gravity doesn't allow that kind of flexibility."

"The thing killing Oren might as well be the devil himself for all we know," Brock says. "It does what it wants, haven't you learned?"

I wretch to the side, only blood spills from my lips.

"Should we take a break, give you a minute to rest?" Boone asks.

I don't have enough ambition to even shake my head. "No, keep going. I just want to go home. Knox is right, it's not just us in these woods."