The child's face was still laden with muck from the fall as he sat upright, the dirt had filled his mouth and found its way inside his nostrils. He reflexively blew his nose, clearing it, and then sucked what little moisture the dirt had in it before spitting it out. He knew what wetted it, but did not wish to waste another droplet of blood.
He smacked his lips to rid them of any residue, and it was only then that it dawned on him, the fact that he could still move freely.
'What is this? This is not how I remember it.'
He looked around, dazed and confused as his arm moved on its own to untie the knot that strained his neck.
'I am not sure, I think the switch was incomplete. I feel a defiance. The body is not fully under my control.'
The child sensed a hint of trepidation and worry behind those words, and again he cursed his self-absorption as he rushed reassuring words.
'That may not be the worst thing to happen. I wasn't planning on sitting idly by as you fix a mess of my own doing.'
'That is...thank you,' the child breathed a sense of relief, 'To tell you the truth, I am not sure how to deal with this on my own.'
'Neither do I, But together...'
"As one."
Their voices merged as the child spoke the words, and the two who were one embraced each other. Their movement and thoughts instantly got in sync as their minds intertwined, and they both felt the sincerity and love of the other. United, they hastened to patch their battered state.
The child ground his teeth to dust as he ripped away the shirt that covered his arm. Pressed for time, he did not slow down even as the fabric-fused scabs that barely had enough time to harden peeled away with it, releasing a mix of pus and blood.
He was wary that even though he had found a reason to carry on and recovered his will to live, the critical condition he was in meant that death still had its foot lodged through the door.
So he tried his hardest to ignore the hurt it caused him as he attempted to seal that door shut. A hurt that was soon compounded when his wounds got exposed to the chill of the morning wind.
To him, the stinging pain felt like another drop in a bucket that was full to the point of spilling. Still, he endured it, because he knew full well that he does not shoulder it alone, and that fact filled him with both resilience and fortitude.
Having removed it, the boy then bit down on the shirt, gulping as his own flesh and blood dripped down his parched throat. He set himself to the task of cutting it into pieces, an effort that was made more difficult given how drenched the fabric was.
Lacking any tool be it sharp or dull, the task fell to his teeth, their long dormancy is at an end.
All the while, the child kept examining the rest of his body. He tried to clench his fist and wiggle his toes, but his limbs simply stared back at him unmoving.
At a loss from their stubbornness, the boy thought — hoped — that he was somehow doing it wrong; this simple action he performed with ease thousands of times before. So he tried it on his healthy limbs. When that worked as intended, the boy attempted to move them once again. But try as hard as he might, they refused to budge. A faint tingle and a slight twitch was the best he could manifest. It was as though the order to move got stuck in his brain, stranded and unrelayed.
The boy's heart trembled as he feared this to be permanent, and he lashed out cursing the ones who caused it.
'All this because I wanted a bite to eat? Ruthless bastards.'
The boy's head then abruptly twisted to one side as he pulled the shirt away with his arm to the other, and the sound of ripping cloth followed.
'Forget about that for now. Here, this should be enough.' He said as he spat away the last of the scraps and with it a tooth that had been loose for some time. He slipped into his pocket before gathering the strips of cloth together on his lap.
The child passed one under his armpit and wrapped it around his wounded arm, in the midway between his shoulder and elbow. Then, while squeezing it to his wing to hold it in place, he grabbed the other side with his teeth and tied it as best he could. He kept tugging it tighter until it could sink into his flesh no further; completely stopping the blood from flowing.
-A break-
The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the child knew that the shoddy bandaging, while effective for now, was nothing more than a temporary measure.
It should buy enough time for new scabs to form, but he had lost a lot of blood and was in need of a miracle to make it through the day.
That miracle did in fact exist, an elixir of healing, a concoction that heals anything short of a severed limb in a flash of an eye. But the child was not blind to the fact that such medicine was beyond his reach.
But he knew of another way, the staple drink of Vagren, a drug which is a blend between the healing herb badidea and jusayno among many others. Though watered down, it should be enough to sustain his life at least.
'No! There has to be a different way. You've seen what happens to those who drink, how quickly it sinks its clutch into them. The way their gazes veer to the side and they are robbed of will and thought. Scratching their skin to the bone as they stoop lower and lower to consume it once hooked.'
'There is no other way,' the child sighed, 'It won't be long before the wound festers after my tumble in the dirt, we have to hurry.'
The child tried to stand himself up but struggled to find his footing on numb, wobbly legs that soon started to tingle as though nested in by a swarm of ants. He leaned his left hand against the wall to better steady himself and slowly made his way up. But when he finally stood upright with the ground firmly beneath his feet, he felt his mind go blank and control shifting all of a sudden.
The feeling they shared was jarring, and, coupled with ever-expanding dark spots in his vision, almost sent him crashing down.
However, by now the two were working together in tandem, and it was only thanks to their newfound harmony that he managed to maintain his balance.
The child felt a weakness overcome him and a strange feeling of emptiness stung in his heart as his feet sunk into the ground below.
'Wait! This is — this doesn't feel right.'
'Don't panic...keep your breathing steady, the bleeding...it has to—'
The boy became increasingly unnerved as he sensed the immense effort it took to say those words.
'What is happening? Talk to me!'
'I don't know... I feel exhausted, and I can't see a thing. Something heavy has grabbed hold of me, and is dragging me down to depths unknown.'
'No, please! Don't leave me,' Pleaded the child, 'I don't want to be left alone without you, not for another moment.'
'I am sorry, I am powerless to resist,' He sighed with drowsy eyes, 'But don't worry, I will be back, I promise you.'
'I swear to you that I will live,' Pledged the child, 'I will spend every waking moment awaiting your return.'
'Heh, simply living doesn't cut it for me after all this trouble,' chuckled the boy, 'If you wish to make it up for me, you would have to do something more. Why don't you acquire that which brings the most envy to our heart.'
Though cryptic, the boy did not need to think too deeply about it, for he saw a vision of his past.
Amidst a hail of snow, he shivered, its chill penetrating his bones, and he saw a kid swinging from the arms of his parents as they raced up the steps. The door opened ajar, and he saw the stacked firewood that welcomed them inside and, once closed, heard the crackling of the flames.
'A home.'
'Yes, that would be nice. The next time I open my eyes, let it be under a roof of our own...'
His words slurred as their sound vanished, and the boy was deafened by the silence that took hold in their place. He clenched a heart that grew heavier with each passing moment, and a sense of longing took over him.
'Always dreaming big, huh? Why not, that is our way...'
For the first time ever, a wide grin reached the boy's eyes as he cackled with a laughter that came from deep within. He felt warm and fuzzy, and with a renewed vigor he made his way forward.
His mind was clear and focused on only one goal: To meet his friend's expectations, and exceed them even.
He kept leaning against the wall, using it as a crutch as he made his way forward, unbothered by its moist touch.
Strangely, the signature scent of Vagren, that of urine and excrement, no longer clogged his nose. In fact, air never smelled so good as the boy sensed the aroma of roses cuddling his nostrils, and he floated in its trail.
The smell was so mesmerizing that he almost got pricked by the thorns that lay ambush in his path.