A/N: This is my first ever fanfic so a) bear with me and b) PLEASE review! I know it sounds right in my head but if there's anything that doesn't read well, feel free to let me know since my head is a very strange place to be. :)
This is NOT going to be a one-shot but for some reason this hit me tonight and it begged to be written so...here it is.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or anything to do with it. *sob*
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
He drew one shuddering breath, then another and another, wincing at the pain each one brought as he trudged slowly through the knee-deep snow. He mentally ran a checklist over his body, registering wounds, acknowledging damage...kunai wounds to his left leg in three places...two shuriken buried in his left shoulder and another three dotted down the left side of his back where he couldn't reach them...two, maybe three fractured ribs...wrenched right shoulder...wrist fractured in two places...senbon-inflicted puncture wounds on his right abdomen...multiple cuts and bruises all over...and the worst of all was the almost complete chakra depletion. He was stiff, sore, dizzy, really cold, wet and light-headed and he knew...he knew that he didn't have long left even though he was a long way from home.
But he pushed on...promising himself that a few more steps was all he needed, and then after that a few more, and a few more after that and so on. He passed between the silent trees, soft flakes falling gently all around him, cocooned in a landscape of white and grey. Tucking his cold hands into his armpits, he pulled his ragged cloak closer to his shoulders. As he pushed his masked face deeper into his collar, he tried in vain to pretend that he wasn't really leaving a trail of crimson behind him.
Well, not that it would matter...he'd managed to dispose of the last of his attackers a while ago; miles ago; so leaving a trail was the least of his worries. He'd left them, along with his backpack, his rations and most of his weapons after being ambushed on the way back. And in this weather, which was threatening to snow ever heavier, and in his condition, there was no way he'd be able to hunt or gather food or even make a fire. Not that he wanted to stop, exhausted though he was.
He closed his eyes, still unwilling to admit defeat, and carried on walking. One step, then another.
He just wanted to be home.
The wind picked up behind him, creating a flurry of snowflakes in his wake and eventually covering over the crimson trail and footprints he'd left behind him. At least Kami was showing some mercy today.
Reaching the end of the forest, he paused and placed a hand on the tree nearest to him. Leaning in slightly, his breath hitched through pain and he took a moment to blink the black spots from his eyes. The pain overtook him after a single deep breath, driving him to his knees in a wave of red-hot spikes. The jolt made him curse before he collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree. Lying on his front, blood oozing through his cloak, he took a shuddering breath and was still.
The snow drifted lazily down, a few flakes landing on skin, where dark lashes lay unmoving against pale cheeks above the line of his slightly torn mask and onto his uniquely silver-coloured hair.