A wind brushed my skin and ruffled my hair and I groaned.
Surely I couldn't be dead. Being dead shouldn't hurt this much, right?
I groaned again and shifted my weight, trying to bring my arms under me but they trembled, too weak to support my weight. Maybe I should do more push-ups.
With a grunt, I struggled to pull myself up so I was sitting since the snow felt cold and wet on my skin. I didn't feel that cold though, it was just uncomfortable.
After a few minutes of struggling I finally sat up, pain running through my legs as I sat on them. I winced and tried to change position but I was so tired and my hands were shaking.
A soft wind blew, bringing with it a scent that I recognized. My senses suddenly seemed to awaken and I blinked, hearing things from far away easily that I never could have dreamed, smelling things that the breeze brought in from a long distance.
I let myself get lost in all the smells, eyes closing as I breathed, the smell of the forest, of snow, of earth, of vampire.
My eyes flashed open as a memory rushed through my brain. I looked down and a few feet away lay a body, a body I recognized.
I clapped a hand over my mouth to smother my scream and scrambled forward awkwardly on all fours since I didn't trust myself to stand.
"No," I whispered, putting my hand on his chest. I leaned my head down to his bloody chest, knowing it was a useless effort but trying anyways. I couldn't hear a heart beat. Red blood flowed over the black, staining the ripped white shirt that hung in tatters, unable to cover the gashes in his chest.
"Wyatt," I whispered shakily, "Wyatt I'm so sorry," I touched his cheek, turning his head to me. His skin felt like ice and his face was oddly peaceful, an expression I hadn't seen in over a month.
"You can't go," I said, feeling a sob rise, "You can't leave me, not after all of this, you just can't."
Tears rolled down my cheeks and my body shook as I picked up his limp body, cradling his head as I pulled him into my lap, rocking us back and forth in attempt to calm down even though I felt like I was losing my mind. I killed him. I killed Wyatt. He was dead because of me.
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed, looking down at his serene face, "This is all my fault. God damn it Wyatt don't leave!" I shouted.
I felt a shift in my arms and I froze, not daring to believe it for a second. Then again, but this time with a mumble type of sound.
My eyes were wide as I stared down at Wyatt's body in my bloody arms, still not daring to have hope.
I saw his lips move the slightest bit and his head turned, eyes squeezing shut, peaceful expression shattered.
"Wyatt?" I asked, by voice barely above a whisper.
He mumbled something else that I couldn't quite catch, and with my werewolf hearing that was a bit of a surprise.
"Wyatt are you okay?" I asked uncertainly. Was this a trick? An illusion that my mind had come up with to make myself feel better? Was it Caleb?
"Ow," he mumbled.
I gaped at him.
His eyes opened for a second before they slipped shut again. But I caught that familiar flash of silver and relief washed over me like a tidal wave. I wanted to pass out I was so relieved, like all the heaviness in me suddenly lifted.
"Wyatt! You're okay!" I cried, holding him tightly against me as I cried harder.
"Of course I'm okay," he said wryly, his eyes opening again. He blinked a few times, eyes narrowing, "But I feel like I have a major hangover."
