A/N: Hi! Sorry for kinda neglecting this story lately... the other one's at a really exciting point and everyone's begging me to update. Plus that one's easier to write. I don't know why I have trouble writing this one, it's probably because I'm scared I'll mess it up again. Oops... anywho, on with the angst! I meant story... Whatever.
WARNING: There is gore- Tyler's rotting corpse.
Gilan stayed in bed for another half hour, just to make sure Will was really out. Then he got up and went to find Malcolm, who was currently sitting on the couch reading a book. He looked up when he entered the room. Horace was taking a nap in Will's old room, so it was just them.
"Did you need something, Gilan? Is Will alright?" He asked, brows knitted in concern.
He shook his head and sat down.
"No, he's asleep. I just wanted to ask, do you need to check on his stitches or anything else? Because now would be the time and I don't want them getting infected. He's got enough to deal with now as it is..."
"Oh, sure. I meant to check on them earlier but I suppose I forgot."
They went to Will's room and Gilan sat and watched while Malcolm cleaned the wounds and changed the bandages. Will never moved a muscle. He couldn't help but stare at all of the scars. They were everywhere... Each one was different, too. Some were big, some were small. Some deep, some shallow. They were all different shapes and sizes. It didn't take long for Malcolm to finish. They cleaned up and left Will alone so he could get some much needed rest. They talked for a while, mostly about what they had been doing lately and how Will had been found.
"How... how long does he have left?" Gilan asked hesitantly.
"About two and a half days now. I hope Halt gets back soon."
Gilan sighed and looked at the floor.
"Yeah, me too."
Meanwhile...
Halt slowly entered the untidy shack, bow in hand, an arrow nocked on the string. As soon as he entered the room, the smell hit him like a wall. The smell of a rotting corpse. He covered his mouth and nose. That was absolutely disgusting. Tyler's corpse lay in the same place as he had left it, a swarm of flies hovering over it as well as a variety of other decomposers. One of the legs was gone, a trail of blood leading from the corpse to a hole in the rotting wood of the wall. It looked like a large predator had fed off of it.
I'd better hurry before it comes back for more.
He walked over to the decomposing pile of organs and limbs and knelt down, slinging his bow over his shoulder and returning the arrow to its correct place. The mice and bugs scurried away and waited anxiously for him to leave so they could continue to feast. The smell was a million times worse, but he didn't move away. He had to get the antidote for Will, who happened to be more important to him than a smelly old corpse. He patted the pockets down and searched for a vial. His hand landed on a hard object and he dug it out of the jacket pocket. It was a vial with an amber colored liquid in it. He looked at the label and it said 'Hemlock Antidote'. He heard a twig snap outside and turned to look in the direction of the sound. He waited several minutes. When there weren't any other sounds, he turned back around.
Probably just a rabbit or a deer.
He smiled triumphantly to himself, a huge weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders. A wave of relief washed over him and he stood up, heading for the door. Then a vicious growl sounded from the opposite side of the room. A large gray wolf stood just in front of the hole in the wall. Fresh blood covered its muzzle and teeth. He slowly turned, grabbing a throwing knife from the sheath at his waist while he had the chance. He cursed himself for being caught off guard. He should've known that twig snapping wasn't just a rabbit. It's never a rabbit. Why can't it ever just be a rabbit?!
The wolf lunged at him, teeth bared as it snarled furiously. He pulled his arm back and brought it forward, launching the razor sharp knife end over end at the blood thirsty animal. It yelped in pain as the knife buried itself in its front leg. Sadly that didn't stop it, only slowing it down a bit. Just as Halt removed his saxe from the sheath, it leapt into the air, it's teeth latching onto his arm before he had the chance to stab it. He screamed as he fell to the floor, pinned under the ravenous animal. He locked his arm and kept it there, so the wolf couldn't get at his face. He could feel its teeth ripping through skin and muscle with each movement. It was agony. His saxe lay on the floor just inches away. He strained and reached for it, reflex tears blurring his vision. He heard Abelard neighing in distress outside and moving around. He would've felt bad, had he not been in this position.
His fingers touched the handle and he moved toward it as much as he could with a 100 pound wolf on his arm. Finally he grabbed it. He rammed it forward with as much force as he could muster, straight through the wolf's heart. Blood went everywhere, coming from both the dying wolf and his arm. The wolf choked for a few seconds then slumped to the ground, dead as a doornail. Halt shoved the beast off him using his uninjured arm and nearly yelled in pain when the motion moved his other one. He looked at it and felt nausea rise in his stomach. Large teeth marks were prominent through the sea of blood. There was torn muscle and he couldn't move it without screaming in pain. A thought found its way to his half dead brain.
Where's the antidote?
His eyes widened in panic and he heaved himself into a sitting position, ignoring his throbbing arm for the moment. He frantically looked around until his eyes landed on the small vial. It was laying on the floor beside him, completely unharmed. Despite the situation, he laughed. At least something good came out of this. He tore a strip off of his cloak and wrapped it tightly around his arm, wincing as the pain spiked. He stood and a wave of dizziness assaulted his vision. He stumbled but was able to regain his balance after a moment. He hurriedly grabbed the antidote and ripped his throwing knife from the wolf's leg before heading outside. He was covered in blood, both his and the wolf's. Abelard was freaking out. He stumbled over to him and put a hand on his nose, trying to calm him down a bit. Abelard snorted and stomped his feet.
"I'm okay."
Have you seen yourself lately?! You are most certainly not okay!
Halt chuckled and put a leg in the stirrup. It was difficult to pull himself up, but he did it after about five minutes of trying. He made sure he had the antidote with him and that it wasn't cracked or anything.
See?! It took you five minutes just to mount!
"Just take me home, would you? So grumpy..." He sighed.
A/N: That was really fun. Like seriously! Lol, I know that probably shouldn't have been fun... but I couldn't just have him go and come back with no problems whatsoever! What kind of story does that?! Please review! :)