Please, Don't Be The End

Sam sat motionless except for the occasional shaking of his tears, staring down at the ground and letting his mind swim with feelings of guilt and thoughts of Remi's face when he was laying bleeding out on the forest floor. He was certain he was now on the precipice of Remi's death, in the time he'd talk about later as the moments before his world sank back to darkness after a brief period of hope. Nurses came to get him into bed, stitched up his side and placed bandages on his face; he could feel the flesh moving at a quick speed, blending itself back together. He would be weak for a few days, but would heal quicker than he could have hoped if he was not Ascended. For once, he felt grateful for his condition. He'd settled into an odd drift, not-quite-sleep, when Isla entered. Sam immediately sit up, cringing from the pain in his side but not moving back down. "Yes. P-please. Is Remi alright? C-Can I see him?" His voice was frantic, his hands tightening in the sheets. SAMUEL How could a night so frozen Be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild Be so raw?