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SHARDS, SHREDS, SCRAPS
Beast
by
Sade Lyrate
He inched slowly backwards, the old boards wellworn under his hands, dust and blood trying to clog his airways, aid his already burdened breath in turning to a feat. His fingers tried to find holds, knots, bumps on the texture of the floor, reach a weapon he could use.
The furry behemoth's shadow loomed in front of him, hardly five feet away, its head trashing around distractedly.
His back hit a wall, his ribs sparkling with new pain, his breath
catching.
It's just pain, he told himself, keeping his
eyes on the giant, not even thinking about his leg. Pain is good.
It lets you know you're still alive.
It doesn't give you a
weapon, though, or transport you to safety.
But it lets you know
you're still alive and can make it.
Dean on the other hand...?
The creature sniffed the air, turning then its one-eyed gaze at him, something closer to insanity flickering across its mangled, somewhat canine face.
