2: A Creature Sloughs its Skin
Lights and noise.
Bright light stabbing through the darkness.
Pain: so much pain, with every breath - in his shoulder-blades and across his chest.
He shouldn't have stolen the Creature's skin... made them angry. He had found a snake's sloughed skin once, on the Resting Rock, and played with it, marvelling at the intricate pattern of scales. Nothing bad had happened to him after that, but that was snakes for you: they minded their own business.
"LARPs... Think it's an adventure playground..." said a voice, anxious under the scorn. "How bad is the bleeding?"
Scissors were cutting through the Creature's hide, cutting through the shirt beneath. The boy felt the cool air against his bare shoulder and side. Unable to cry out, he winced as a hand ran over the bruised flesh.
"His dumb Halloween costume's made things worse... Busted ribs," said a second voice.
He could hear them, but none of it made sense. The men were speaking much faster than anyone in the village, too fast for him to understand all the words. Better not to try... His mind began to drift. He wanted to sleep, to stop the hurting...
"Hold on there, kid. Hold on! You're gonna be fine!"
With an effort, he focussed on the faces leaning over him: one white, one brown, both strangers. He opened his mouth, but only a choking cough emerged.
"Pneumothorax: I don't think he can wait." (Spoken grimly.)
"Better do it, then: we can give him a shot, can't we?"
Something sharp pierced the right side of his chest. He groaned, but then felt a fiercer pain close by: a cut, and then something blunt being pushed in ever deeper...
The darkness closed in again. This time he did not resist. He let it wrap around him, like the warm patchwork quilt on his bed; like the lullaby Ivy Walker used to sing when he was frightened and lonely.
To be continued: Meanwhile in Covington: a son saved, a son lost.