He didn't remember much of what happened afterwards. The pain was still there. That part he remembered well. Almost too well. He thinks it's the only thing he remembered of the ordeal, anyways.

He kept zoning in and back out quickly. He remembered hearing screaming. He remembered being gently lifted onto a cot (at least, that's what he thought it was) and being carried into the back of a vehicle. He remembered the crying. It still circled in his ears and echoed in his head.

Now he was just staring at nothing. Just nothing. Just nothing but pitch black void and listening to deafening silence.

There was a faint beeping noise. And footsteps. And crying. Lots and lots of crying.

Maybe it was all just part of this weird dream. Everything was strangely fluid, and it was very dark. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he couldn't do anything but wait and listen.

He didn't really like it. It was kind of enjoyable, that he could admit. But it was also lonely, and kind of sad.

He doesn't like to be alone.

It reminded him a bit too much of how his father would throw him out into the woods, promising to check on him in a couple of minutes or so. He'd wait, and wait, and wait. He'd wait for hours. He'd wait until the sun went down. But he'd still wait. Because Father promised, and Father never broke his promise. Maybe he just got lost, or was being held up by a friend or something.

Later on in life, he'd found out the truth.

His father would have either gone back to their house immediately or gone down to the bar for a few hours, before going back home. He'd never, not once, gone back to check on his only son, the next Huntsman. He'd never given him a second thought or glance. He'd only turned his back on him, his promises broken and laying in pieces on the ground.

The woods became his comfort place.

It became a space where he could run from his problems and take a break from the world. Everything had always felt a bit too real to him. The forest felt like it had come straight from a book, fantastical and magical and just the right amount of realism for it to be enjoyable.

The animals were some of his best friends. Isn't that weird? A hunter friends with the animals he was supposed to hunt? To kill? He found that kind of funny. He didn't really know why. Maybe his sense of humor was naturally fucked up. Or maybe it was because of how much time he'd spent with his friends.

He didn't really know. All he had to do was either A. Kill the next Big Bad Wolf, or B. Tell Apple to run away. Yeah, not really any major roles there. What was he going to do after one, or both, of the stories were done? Go die in hole in the woods? Nothing really clarified what happened to his Father after his job was done.

Pesky was his friend from before Ever After High from a couple years before. Just enough to figure out how much of a little shit he is. He'd, for so long, had been in some sort of rivalry with the squirrel. Somehow, they'd ended up as best friends. Maybe the squirrel had followed him home one day. Or maybe he'd just seen his father chuck him out into the woods with no help whatsoever.

He didn't know. Pesky had just sort of toned it down a bit. He was still annoying, but less so. Hunter was suspicious at first, but soon accepted it. Hey, it's not like he could actually talk to animals or anything. He could sort of understand them. Just enough to have conversations with them.

The beeping became louder. And so did the voices. Were they always this loud? And was the world getting brighter? The crying seemed to lessen, at least.

The world was getting brighter. And the voices louder. What was going on? Was he dead, or was he alive? Was this the afterlife? If so, it was extremely boring. Hunter's been to study parties more fun than this. And that was saying a lot, considering he'd rather be in the woods than anywhere else.

And before he knew it he was opening his eyes to a blanket of white. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Why did everything hurt? He didn't know. The pain in his head made it throb and made it hard to think.

"Hunter?"

That was Ashlynn. Why did she sound worried? What was that little gasp as she cried his name? He didn't know. He didn't know, and he didn't like it. So many questions, so little answers.

"Hunter!" Now she sounded excited. Why, though? He wanted to know. He wanted to ask. But he couldn't. He was too tired and too in pain.

He mumbled something that sounded sort of like, "Wha?", but where was that supposed to get him? Nowhere. He blinked sluggishly and tried to clear his vision.

And then it all came back to him.

. . . Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

That. . . actually explained a lot. Everything, to be honest. From the pain in his ribs to the hospital bed he was laying in.

Oh, boy, he had a lot of explaining to do, didn't he?

He blinked again, a little of the pain dissipating. He tried to sit up as a chorus of protests rang out from the room. Huh, so it wasn't just Ashlynn. It felt like the entirety of the school was there. Great. As soon as he was let out, he was going to go into the forest, dig a hole, crawl inside, and die.

"Are you okay?" asked Hopper, face pale.

"Uh, no," he said, voice oozing with sarcasm. "No, I'm not."

Hopper let out a little croak-laugh-cry thing. He wasn't too sure if he was laughing or crying. Maybe both.

"Okay, what happened?" Dexter asked, face blotchy and eyes red.

Hunter sighed, dragging his hands down his face. "Where do I even start?"

"Where every story starts," said Raven, from her spot beside Apple, the two girls white as snow. "The beginning."

He was aware that every single face in the room was staring at him. And that every single one of them had their mouths gaping wide open and their eyes swirling with shock and disbelief and other emotions he couldn't quite place.

He bit his lip and glanced around the room nervously. Chances are, with his luck, things weren't going to blow over well.

"So," Cerise said, "your chest started hurting when the giant pinned you down. But you didn't think it'd be a good idea to go tell someone, so you just sucked it up and waited for us to find out when you started coughing up blood?"

Hunter shrugged sheepishly. "Pretty much, yeah."

Raven smacked the back of his head. "You idiot. You scared us!"

"I didn't mean to!"

Daring side. "What matters most is that you're okay now." He gave the Huntsman a kind of half-glare. "Don't do it again."

He laughed. "Don't worry, I won't."

"Good."

They all chatted for a few more minutes before the nurse came in and said, "Visiting hours are over."

A bit reluctantly, they all left, some lingering behind more than others, before his white room was empty once more.

It was horrible.

It was too quiet and too empty and too white and it smelled of hand sanitizer. Couldn't he at least have a plant or something? It would brighten up the room a bit.

He was quiet, most of the time. He'd only talk and light up if a friend had stopped by to say hello.

Finally, after weeks and weeks and weeks of doing nothing, he was released, with a warning to not participate in any sports, as not to disturb his ribs. He was fine with that. As long as he wasn't stuck in the stupid hospital room, he'd be fine.

He'd wanted to go out for a walk in the woods and invited the others, some of them agreeing, most of them politely declining.

So now he was in the woods with Ashlynn, Cerise, and Hopper. He suspected Duchess and Sparrow were somewhere behind them, but he didn't mind.

He breathed in the fresh scent of air and smiled.

It was The End for this story.