Kurapika's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. Every joint ached, and his damp clothes stuck to his skin. Shivering, he closed his eyes again. It was just a dream, he thought, ignoring the lump forming in his throat. The nightmare already happened.
Everyone's already dead.
"Are you still saving all that money for those cheap paints in the store?" Wren asked from under the rickety contraption he was tinkering with.
"Are you still building that… thing?" I retorted.
"Duh. This is different, Lyra. A glider that could travel as far as the boats would be revolutionary! What're a few paints gonna do?"
"Those 'cheap paints' you speak of were made from materials you can't get in places like this, so they probably cost just as much as all the parts of your glider put together. Besides, I told you I was going to paint your glider when it's done. You don't want it staying plain forever, do you?"
"Okay, Lyra, you win." Wren sighed, wriggling out from under the glider and casting his tool aside. Wren may have been the typical annoying brother, but for a kid who wasn't even ten years old yet, he really knew his stuff. He'd built small gliders and planes and other dirigibles which hung from the ceiling of his room, but now he was working on the real thing. "By the way, if you're going out to the beach right now, could you get me a couple of more planks from the store on your way back? My allowance is in the jar."
"Sure thing." I replied.
"Thanks." And with that, he picked up a wrench and disappeared back under the framework of wood and bolts.
The boardwalk creaked under my feet as I ran along the shoreline, shouting hello to the departing crews of fishermen. They called back to me, waving.
This harbor was my home, where the air always held the lingering scent of sea salt. Around the harbor was the small town where my family and I lived, and past it a deep forest that seemed to go on forever. My destination was the beach, the place I always went to for inspiration.
As I stopped to catch my breath, I glanced up at the sky and then back at the forest. I heard something. Something crashing through the trees, sending flocks of startled birds into the sky. I took a step back, squinting at the treeline.
Suddenly, something came bursting from the bushes. It was a person, about my age at that. His blonde hair hung loosely in his face, which was streaked with sweat. Just a suddenly as he'd entered, he tripped, sending him sprawling, tumbling down the hill in my direction.
Just a few yards away from me, he landed with an oof!, kicking up a spray of sand. I held up an arm to shield my face.
As I approached him, he got up on his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. When he looked up and spotted me coming towards him, he jumped back, giving me a fierce, threatening glare, his eyes wild, and… and red.
I knelt to his level. "Um, hello? I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? My name's Lyra, what's yours?"
The boy sprang to his feet. "You stay away from me!" He pointed a dirt-smudged finger at me. "I trust no one, you hear me?! No one!"
"What is your deal?" I asked, an edge of annoyance in my voice. "I already told you I wouldn't hurt you, so…" I noticed him swaying a bit, and then I noticed one of his sleeves were torn and caked with dried blood. "Y-you're hurt… Let me see…" I brushed my fingers against his pointing hand. He tried to jerk it away, but I grabbed it tightly.
"Release me! Release me!" The boy snarled, trying to yank his uninjured arm from my grasp. When I clenched tighter, he suddenly yanked my arm up to his face and bit me.
"Ouch!" I yelped. "Are you insane?! Let go!" He only bit down harder, now breaking the skin. Not knowing what else to do, I held up my book and struck him on the back of the head with it. In his condition, it was more than enough to knock him out. He released my hand, landing facedown in the sand.
Grimacing, I examined the bloody bite mark on my wrist before looking back down at the boy. I reached out a tentative foot and prodded his side, but he didn't stir. Holding my breath and brandishing the book over my head in case he jumped me again, I dropped to my knees and slowly rolled him over. Lifting a shred of his tattered sleeve, I saw a deep cut tracing from just below his shoulder to a few inches from his wrist. It certainly wasn't the cleanest cut in the world, and his whole arm around it was stained red. No wonder he was so weak, he must've been losing blood for days. If he doesn't get that sewn up or something quick, he's as good as dead. I sighed. "Alright, asylum escapee, let's go." I reached down to try and lift him up, which wasn't too hard considering I could feel every one of his ribs.
"Hey, Lyra are you okay?!" I looked up to see Wren along with a couple fishermen standing on the edge of the boardwalk. "Mr. Houck said he heard shouting!"
"Y-Yeah, I'm okay, but I'm not sure this boy is!" I called back. "He's really hurt!"
"Did you pick up my planks?!"
"Wren, I've been gone ten minutes! You're like a broken record!"
"Speaking of broken, I don't think that boy's arm in bending the right way!"