And here we go, "Hello, floor. Have you met my knees?"
When Wessex finally deemed it time to let him go, Sam had stumbled out of the courtyard and down the street; it was already dusk, but he found he couldn't worry about the usual bandits lurking in the shadows or whatever it was his mind usually filled in for him: all that was on his mind was the fluid leaking from between his fingers on his stomach, where the knife had been removed the wound was too large to ignore.
Without pain, it was an oddly calm panic he felt, though he knew he'd have to drink soon before he lost too much fluid, and have the wound seen to. Hopefully Zephyr would be in the house and amenable to helping him out. Sam knew he'd feel guilty about it later, after just assuring the man there would be no more drinking, but in the moment he couldn't think much beyond 'not dying'.
Finally reaching the door, he fell on it and cracked it open, forcing himself to take more steps into the house as he began to feel sluggish. "Zeph?" He called out, noticing signs of someone inside but not yet seeing his friend.
Without pain, it was an oddly calm panic he felt, though he knew he'd have to drink soon before he lost too much fluid, and have the wound seen to. Hopefully Zephyr would be in the house and amenable to helping him out. Sam knew he'd feel guilty about it later, after just assuring the man there would be no more drinking, but in the moment he couldn't think much beyond 'not dying'.
Finally reaching the door, he fell on it and cracked it open, forcing himself to take more steps into the house as he began to feel sluggish. "Zeph?" He called out, noticing signs of someone inside but not yet seeing his friend.
SAMUEL
