Prompt: the leaves are wet
He blinks. When he opens them, things have not changed. Everything is slow. A deep voice, shouting something he should be able to understand draws his face to the right. He blinks again, wavering. His head drops to his chest. His hands are covering the hole that his abdomen has become. Blink.
The fall to the ground takes an instant, but lasts forever. His knees buckle and he collapses on his side, head and neck lolling to look up. The leaves are wet.
It had been raining. No. It was raining. Little drops of water sprinkle his face. Blink. That face, blurring in and out of focus is the one raining on him.
No. Crying. Derek was crying. Why was he crying? It's not bad. Derek flinches away from his field of view. Distantly it comes to him. He's speaking out loud. Can't stop. Can't really hear himself. Blink.
His eyelids are being pulled down by bricks. They flutter closed. Someone tapping on his face forces them open once more.
The leaves are wet. His hands no longer have the strength to remain on his stomach. They drift off to the side, almost floating. Pressing his hands into the mast of the forest he blinks again. Why are the leaves wet?
He howls as Stiles' eyes shut and the fingers splay out in the lifeblood that had been spilled. The copper scent is heavy in the air. The tacky feel is engrained into his hands. The leaves are wet.