Little Bird

|four| night & day

Author's Note

Took awhile but here she is! Thank y'all for reading! I appreciate it! 

Also: I started a new blog called SpelledLikeCarry.com, and it's really a lifestyle-ish blog where it follows my life in general, thoughts, and other topics. I am open to any prompt for a blog, so go by and drop one for me! Also, comments, subscriptions, and votes are extremely appreciated, but if you could just simply read it, I would be incredibly grateful. 

Also: IG: SpelledLikeCarry, I follow back. 

When Fenris opens his eyes again, he sees nothing and only hears a fierce ringing in his ears, drumming so loudly he continues to scream in pain. Because, he doesn't understand when he began yelling, begging for a relief he knew wouldn't come, but he'll scream until it stops, or at very least, wanes. 

His fingers dig into what's beneath him-- falling dirt-- he's falling. Hands reach up, scrambling for purchase, trying to find his way back to the girl's voice, and only finding nothing. 

He opens his mouth, tongue attempting to form a name he doesn't know, asking for someone he had never met, to help ease his pain... to ease him. Everything is going too fast; everything is moving too slow. This pocket of existence he had found himself in has muddied his mind, crossed his eyes, clenched his teeth. The feeling of blood on his hands, a smiling mouth, a screaming voice, begging words, all rushing through his senses simultaneously, driving him to an inconsolable madness that has no starting point and an unforeseeable end. 

And then it stops.

His mind goes blank. Clear. 

It's almost as maddening as the fall, the sound of absolutely nothing echoing through his head. He has sensitive hearing, it comes with being a wolf, but here, there is absence of noise. Slowly, he stretches out his fingers. Although he hears his knuckles crack, there is still a void in the steady thrum of natural sound. 

He has no heartbeat. 

He could always hear his own chest piece, thumping proudly in the pocket of his ribs, proving that although his body may be battered and his mind had seen hell, at least his heart had never left him. Fenris stilled completely, purposely holding in a breath he had to force down his throat, waiting for a sound that never came. 

"Good," A rushed voice comes from somewhere, and it is only now that he realizes he is in the midst of the same forest he had... died?... in. The thought of death and him in the same sentence sounds unnatural, impossible. 

The forest is not as he left it. This time, it is flooded in morning light, green leaves shiny with dew, but the echoing silence of the forest proved this had to be some kind of unsettling, altered reality, untouched by life. "Good, you're finally here, Fenris!" 

With weary eyes, he moves his attention towards his name, where a girl runs towards him in nothing but a ripped flannel and stained jeans, her feet are bare and her blue eyes are familiar in a way he can't place. 

Although she looks no older than twenty, her hair flows blindingly white, shimmering-- no, he thinks, glowing-- underneath the rising sun. "Fenris, hurry, you've got to listen to me before I send you back," her hand wraps around his collarbone in attempt to anchor him down. Out of habit, he attempts to rip out of her touch. There should be a bleeding wound where her palm presses, so tender even a strong wind would cause him to double over in pain. 

Instead, there's nothing beneath her prodding fingers. All he can feel is the strange warmth coming off of her, as if she's nothing but a dancing flame and he's wandered too close to her, mesmerized by the curiousness she is.