afflicted

10

He was leaning against the door frame, barely conscious. His fighting leathers were drenched in coagulated blood. He was wheezing as if he could barely summon the strength to sift air into his lungs. There was an arrow shot through his shoulder and his wings looked borderline shredded. They leaked and dripped with his blood in the places the hyper-sensitive skin had torn.

Had he flown back here like this?

She cursed again, roughly wiping away her tears. She got the best grip on him that she could, being as gentle as possible, and began to pull him inside. She kicked the door shut with her foot and helped him to a seated position, leaning against her shoulder so he wouldn't put more pressure on his wings or on the arrow still lodged deeply in the muscle tissue of his shoulder.

He rested against her heavily, his eyes drifting closed. She swore, leaning him the best she could against the wall. She was moving entirely on instinct, making the motions before she could even understand what she was doing. She dug through the cabin's contents, grabbing a few rags and some water to try and force down his throat.

She found a small wound kit that looked like it hadn't been touched in years and was over halfway empty. Of course, Azriel would be so sure of his own skills that he wouldn't have foraged for anything to have in case he got injured.

She slammed to her knees in front of him, but he didn't even notice her. His head was nodding off, eyes almost crossed with a lack of focus as they threatened to drift shut. She leaned him back against her body, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"Azriel," she prompted him. He gave no response. "Fuck... Az, you have to stay awake. Please just try to stay awake. I know you're in pain. I'm going to do the best I can to help you, but I need you to stay awake for me."

He groaned, eyes drowsy and heavy. He blinked a few times, trying his best. He'd begun shivering. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she panicked. She had no supplies, no help. If she didn't do something, he was going to die.

She decided to start with the arrow in his shoulder, hoping that was the only major area of blood loss. She used the dagger to saw back and forth as gently as she could, as close to his shoulder blade as possible. She had schooled herself into an unbreakable focus.

He would not die. Not on her watch.

He'd nursed her back to health when she was sick despite having every right to leave her to die. And yet, he didn't. He bathed and clothed her and found them both shelter and food. She would not allow him to die now. Not yet.

He was going in and out of consciousness, but for the moment she didn't rouse him, knowing just how painful this was about to be for him. The back of the arrow snapped off and she gripped the side at the front of his shoulder and gently pulled the arrow from his wound. Blood leaked down his chest as she did, and she thanked the gods yet again he wasn't awake to see it.

She pushed her hand down on the wound hard, attempting to stop the blood flow. She closed her eyes as she breathed, applying pressure to his shoulder. She begged for the bleeding to stop. She had no other tools, had no clue what to do.

Tears again silently poured down her cheeks, slotting into the corners of her mouth and leaving a salty aftertaste. The ache in her chest was insurmountable. She couldn't lose him. Losing him meant she was gone forever. It meant she'd never be able to fix things.

She'd never catch a glimpse of one of his shy smiles again. Never get to apologize to him. The thought threatened to crack her chest open wide for all the world to witness her wounds. His breathing was so raspy, so shallow. Her lips pressed into a hard line before she again found the courage to open her eyes.