The challenge word this week is Prickle and Dean is suffering bravely.
Sam had been expecting it.
He'd stayed unobtrusively close, his strong hands ready as Dean staggered tightly, stubborn determination and lingering adrenaline somehow keeping him upright.
It was inevitable though. There was too much blood and too many almost-stifled gasps for him not to falter.
"Easy, I got ya..."
Sam gentled as Dean groaned softly, finally unable to fight the pain any longer.
He settled him against a fallen tree bough.
"Is it your arm?"
Dean shook his head miserably.
"Your ribs?"
"Nahh, Sammy..."
Dean huffed tiredly, pointing toward his filthy footwear.
"Got a damned prickle in my boot!"
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.