Humans Alone (G/T)

Chapter Twelve

Heath woke up. He didn't know where he was, or what was going on around him. All he knew was he's in an immense amount of pain. He parted his lips to speak, but only managed a cough. He felt something warm spit from his mouth and run down his face. 

Opening his eyes, he could see trees above him. The air was warm, and a soft breeze was pushing locks of hair into his face. 

Michael's face popped into view, blocking the sunlight from Heath's eyes. "You're awake. Donnie, get some water. Hang on Heath, you've been out cold for three days. Your son and I...I mean, your son was pretty worried."

"Three days?" Heath groaned out, wiping the liquid away from his face and was able to see blood on his hand. 

"Yes." Michael grabbed a damp cloth he had nearby, wiping off the smeared blood from the Masonin's face. 

Heath placed a hand on what felt like bandages wrapped around his torso and forced himself up into a sitting position. Pain shot through his abdomen and he groaned again. "W-We need to move and get to the higher of my race. S-So no more humans get killed."

The world around him spun and he felt like he needed to lay back down. But he saw that Pegasus member. He knew that they weren't going to rest until they had Michael now. They knew where he was, and who he's with. 

"Dad." Donnie's voice said in a near whisper behind him, and he craned his neck to see him. He had a canteen in hand, his green catlike eyes holding an immense amount of concern. He held the canteen out to Heath, who slowly took it from his son's hands.

Only when he took a sip did he realize how thirsty he was, greedily gulping down the cool water that most likely came from the nearby river. Boiled for safety of course. It soothed his aching, dry throat and he found it easier to talk again. "Thank you. B-Both of you." Heath coughed lightly into the bend of his arm and forced himself to stand despite Michael and Donnie's protests. 

"No way. You made me be careful with my leg, I'm making you be careful with that wound! It was a freaking shotgun! You're lucky to even be alive right now!" Michael grabbed onto Heath's arm with both hands, trying to use all his might to pull the Masonin back to the ground. 

Heath watched Michael with an amused smile, a deep chuckle rumbling in his throat. All three of them had to know the human wouldn't be able to move him, but yet here he was trying. His smile faded and he placed one of his hands over the painful injury. "Let's just move." He said quietly through gritted teeth, taking a compass from one of the bags on the horses that were now tied to a tree and gathering where they were. "We need t-to head southeast."

With one hand still placed over his probably bleeding bullet wound, the adult Masonin began to walk in the direction the compass pointed him in. He could hear rustling behind him and the clinking of the buckles on his bags, which he could only assume was his adopted son and Michael gathering up everything. He stood in silence to wait with his back to them.

Donnie and Michael exchanged the same worried glances, and Donnie cast a glare in the human's direction before taking up the horses reigns and followed his father. "Okay, dad. If you need to stop let me know and we can take a break." 

Michael scratched at the bandages on his leg, the bites on his arm and calf itching like mad. It was driving him crazy, and he had to hobble behind the Masonin's at a slow pace because of it. He scratched and scratched, falling further and further behind. But if he were to run, it would most likely hurt a lot more and his leg had finally started to feel a little better. 

Luckily, Heath glanced over his shoulder and stopped in his tracks, holding a hand up for Donnie to stop as well. "Michael. Do you need help walking?" He asked, walking back to the human.

Michael could see blood starting to soak through Heath's bandages but said nothing of it for the time being. Maybe it hadn't fully registered or something, but he didn't. "No, m-my leg and arm just itch. I'm fine." Needing to take a step backward, he had almost forgotten just how tall he was. How insignificant he felt under the gaze of the Masonin. 

"Well, that's what happens when wounds heal. They itch. A lot." Even though he felt like he should kneel to avoid totally scaring Michael again, he knew if he tried it would make him hurt even worse. What a fine start to a journey this has been. Barely walking for over a day then getting shot, only to waste three more days. 

"I know. My daughter broke her arm when she was about five years old, she fell off of the school playground equipment after some jerk older kid was chasing her with a huge tarantula he had brought to school for a show and tell thing. I was so mad." Michael stood up straight, stretching his legs carefully. 

"If that happened to Donnie the kid's parents would be hearing from me. That is unnecessary. He should be punished." Heath said, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. "Your daughter was only five?"

"Yeah. But she was glad at the time because I had taken off work to take care of her. I remember she specifically flat out told me how much she loved me, and how much she missed me when I was away. God...I miss her so much. Sh-She always had a smile on her face. The dark only scared her in the rain, when she'd come to my room and crawl into bed with me because she said my bed was the 'safe zone'." Michael closed his eyes, clearing his throat quietly as he tried not to get too emotional. "I-I can only hope sh-she's safe."

Heath watched small tears roll down the humans face, and reached his arm out, placing one of his large hands on Michael's shoulder. "I'm almost positive she is. And after this journey, we'll do everything we can to find her."

Michael grabbed onto the giant hand resting near his face, holding a few of the fingers tightly as he looked up at Heath with thankful, sad eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, using his other arm to wipe tears off his face. "So much."