Phoebe saw the beast approach and her eyes widened, immediately welling with tears. Brahm. She couldn’t forget his shift form if she tried, enforced by the unique look of a Miura Bull. But the rest of him…it was all wrong. And the ring in its nose was not something he would have had. No. Not Brahm. The tears still rolled down her face as she shook her head, doing her best to focus on reality. This was not her brother. It never was her brother.
And the fact that it charged only reinforced that truth.
[say]”EMMETT!!”[/say] she screamed in terror, watching the bull run almost through him it seemed. Chris was curled on the ground crying. Milly had looked up and was also shrieking in alarm. She rushed to his side, her irritation with him dissipated immediately. The fish gave her enough light to assess his injuries, and her decision to act was immediate, ingrained in her years of training. Phoebe ripped the skirt of her dress, not caring that she would be in naught but her little shorts from the waist down after. Modesty was nothing in a life or death situation. As she tore them into strips she directed the younger children to hold him up in a sitting position, both whimpering and crying but doing as they were told. Phoebe used the strips of fabric to wrap the worst of his open wounds with deft hands. It was all she could do until she got somewhere with real medical supplies. And that had to be quick.
Phoebe would drag Emmett to the only place she knew how to get to – the Rathskellar – the younger children staying close to her legs in the light. She had no other choice.
And the fact that it charged only reinforced that truth.
[say]”EMMETT!!”[/say] she screamed in terror, watching the bull run almost through him it seemed. Chris was curled on the ground crying. Milly had looked up and was also shrieking in alarm. She rushed to his side, her irritation with him dissipated immediately. The fish gave her enough light to assess his injuries, and her decision to act was immediate, ingrained in her years of training. Phoebe ripped the skirt of her dress, not caring that she would be in naught but her little shorts from the waist down after. Modesty was nothing in a life or death situation. As she tore them into strips she directed the younger children to hold him up in a sitting position, both whimpering and crying but doing as they were told. Phoebe used the strips of fabric to wrap the worst of his open wounds with deft hands. It was all she could do until she got somewhere with real medical supplies. And that had to be quick.
Phoebe would drag Emmett to the only place she knew how to get to – the Rathskellar – the younger children staying close to her legs in the light. She had no other choice.
