[He only asked out of the concern he has -- something he can hang onto, when he isn't desperately focused on hanging onto her.
Brace yourself.
Unfortunately, he has nothing to brace with.
Fortunately, he no longer has the energy to scream.
Because he wants to. All at once, every little cut and thorn in him makes itself utterly known, kickstarted by the flash of pain from his arm. He doesn't scream, but he does make a sick, wet moan.
This is all very bad, but his head continues to float.
He doesn't fight her hold, no matter how much it hurts. And by the time she's managed to get him slung across the mule's saddle -- it's not exactly the first time this has happened -- his head is swimming and he's drifting in and out of consciousness, seconds at a time.
He slips back awake, the mule underneath too warm to his touch. He swears, distantly, he can hear the cry of a bird. A hawk.]
no subject
Brace yourself.
Unfortunately, he has nothing to brace with.
Fortunately, he no longer has the energy to scream.
Because he wants to. All at once, every little cut and thorn in him makes itself utterly known, kickstarted by the flash of pain from his arm. He doesn't scream, but he does make a sick, wet moan.
This is all very bad, but his head continues to float.
He doesn't fight her hold, no matter how much it hurts. And by the time she's managed to get him slung across the mule's saddle -- it's not exactly the first time this has happened -- his head is swimming and he's drifting in and out of consciousness, seconds at a time.
He slips back awake, the mule underneath too warm to his touch. He swears, distantly, he can hear the cry of a bird. A hawk.]