[Closed] [Event] Halloween Contest 2020 and More Quest Grader Tryouts

Black wind howled. The heavens wept. A blanket of inky clouds snuffed out the sun. Only flashes of lightning offered brief light, slashing jagged lines across the air. The ocean roiled like a stew being stirred by a mad cook. Violent waves and whirlpools tossed around a large merchant ship. Or what little was left of it anyway... The sails resembled handkerchiefs, well-used. One of the three masts splintered from a sudden lightning bolt, keeling over dead. The hull scraped against rocks and drank deep. Icy rain whipped the few fools brave enough to try and prepare emergency boats. Inside, seawater rushed in faster than any number of buckets could carry out. The passengers scurried up onto the deck in an orderly manner of total panic. There weren’t enough boats and everyone knew it. One after another, they fell into the sea, swallowed by the hungry currents. Only the captain, a gray seadog whose smile was no different from his frown, remained behind to respect a grim tradition.

Somewhere on the turbulent sea, a soaked rat found something priceless... Solid land. A huge wave washed a sharp-dressed man onto the shore. With a chocolate brown suit made of fine silk, he could have passed for a respectable gentleman in a more... arid situation. He coughed and sputtered, desperate to trade some of the salty water in his lungs for fresh air. Alive... Barely, but still alive. Some might call him incredibly lucky, while snarkier souls could claim he was simply so vile even the ocean spat him out. The latter theory got credence when the next wave flung a large suitcase right onto his head. Twirling stars filled his vision. As the final insult, a wide-brimmed hat came fluttering in the wind and flopped onto his face.

Fortunately, Richard Maxwell, a self-proclaimed entrepreneur and more commonly proclaimed crook, had a thick skull. Handy in his line of work. Uttering a string of words unfit for print, he grabbed his suitcase, shook the seaweed out his hat and took in his surroundings. He was greeted by the chilling sight of a dark, twisted forest. Thorny bushes formed natural barriers. Branches reminiscent of grasping arms rustled with the howling wind. The only way forward was a lonely path snaking between the trees. His shoulders sagged with a weary sigh. Of course. How very typical. Why couldn’t it ever be a lovely beach with scantily-clad and wealthy women? With a raging sea behind him and a gloomy forest ahead of him, he chose the slightly less dangerous option and headed off.

The walk was about as pleasant as the forest itself. Richard’s eyes wandered. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision. He swore he could hear steps and panting breaths other than his own. As a man of science, he refused to believe in ghosts, monsters, or other equally silly stories. Everything had a logical explanation. Any so-called ghost was just a serial killer looking for their next victim and any monster sighting merely a mangy beast stalking prey. ...Somehow the thought failed to calm his nerves. Fear felt like a clump of tar clinging to his throat. He swallowed it with an audible gulp and hastened his steps. No such thing as monsters... The thought was becoming a mantra inside his head. Maybe eventually he would believe it.

When lost in the dark, even the tiniest light could become a guiding beacon. Once such light beckoned the lost soul closer. His very own lighthouse in the storm. Grasping his jacket to stop the wind from prying it open, he hurried closer. The path beneath his feet slowly evolved from a muddy trail to solid cobblestone. Ahead of him loomed a massive silhouette, which his squinting eyes vaguely registered as a mansion of sorts. It strongly resembled a gothic cathedral, with its long, pointy roofs and elaborate brickwork. The light was filtering through one of the windows. Hopefully the foolhardy nut job who would willingly live on this nightmare island was also feeling hospitable...

Richard staggered to the door, fighting against gusts of mischievous wind. He slammed his fist against the door -once, twice, thrice- hoping that his rather rude knocking wouldn’t drown beneath the thunder. Seconds crawled by slower than the raindrops down his back. Just as he raised his fist for another attempt, the door creaked ajar. Through the narrow gap peeked a single crimson eye, framed by features as white as snow and a lock of golden hair. A voice faint and pure like a silver bell chimed through in a wary greeting. “H-hello...?” Richard reflexively adjusted his tie and donned a well-practiced smile. “Ah, good evening, Miss. Terribly sorry to bother you this late, but my ship encountered an awful accident in the storm and I have nowhere else to go.” Moved by the brief sob story and the puppy-dog eyes, the young lady sniffled weakly. “Ah, you poor soul, please come in, come in.” As the door opened further, the criminal wasted no time stepping inside. A smug smile almost seeped through his thankful facade. Heh heh, still got it~!

A violent gust slammed the door shut.

Inside, the soaked rat was immediately blessed with blissful warmth. His gaze swept the surroundings, a force of habit developed over the years. The fine foyer continued the gothic theme. Gray stone lined the walls with an occasional portrait or window breaking the monotony. Countless candles on the tables and in the chandelier made the shadows dance with their wavering light. The furniture was well-kept, aside from traces of animal fur everywhere. It didn’t take a detective to find the culprits either. Yes, culprits. Plural. Even at just a quick glance, he spotted several dogs and lost count after a dozen. Some were snoozing under chairs, others were sniffing about. Few even stared back curiously.

Finally the visitor’s wandering eyes stopped onto the gracious owner of the mansion. The dainty, young lady didn’t seem a day over twenty. Her long and flowing crimson dress looked pricey, even by his clothing standards. Such a shame about the dog hair everywhere. It set a stark contrast against her deathly pale skin. Long, neatly combed locks of golden hair cascaded down her back and shoulders. They seemed to almost shine in the strange light, giving the thief dirty ideas about the girl’s money bags. A naive, rich heiress in the middle of nowhere... Would be a shame if someone were to take advantage of her obvious loneliness...

Before the silence could get awkward, the charlatan stepped up to the young woman. He removed his hat and dipped into a theatrical bow with a practiced flourish. “Ah, but where are my manners? Jackson, Mike Jackson, traveling artist.” Taking her hand, he planted a gentle kiss upon it. “Charmed to meet you, Lady...” A surprised blush painted her features and she stammered a little. “Uh, L-lady Circe. B-but please, you may call me Victoria.” The crook straightened his back and pondered the name playfully. “Victoria. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. How very fitting.” He had spent enough time trying to scam dames older and wiser than this girl to know what they wanted to hear. Judging by the coy smile playing on her lips, she was swallowing it, hook, line and sinker.

Indeed, the young heiress practically pulled the visitor deeper into the mansion. Some of the dogs followed along, strutting by her side. “It has been so awfully lonely ever since mother and father passed.” Her comment was met with a hurt whine from a plump, little corgi. She stopped to offer apologetic pats. “Aw, I’m sorry, Sir Treatbeard... I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just nice to have some company that can talk for a change.” The apology was accepted with a cheery bark. Meanwhile, the thief was struggling to hide his glee. Ah, this was just perfect. A little too perfect, his paranoia insisted, before being silenced by the massive claws of his greed. No reason to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a gift dog, if you prefer.

To disarm the girl further, the charlatan slithered into the conversation. “And I must say it’s nice to meet someone who likes dogs as much as I do.” He lied, with the same ease as he breathed. “How many friends have you got here?” The naive dog enthusiast pondered for a moment, before shrugging with an absent-minded smile. “No idea, honestly. I think I lost count after three dozen.” Somehow the answer didn’t surprise the crook. Crazy cat ladies, crazy dog ladies, same difference as far as he was concerned. A fool and her money were easily parted.

The short walk took the duo and the dogs through twisting hallways, until they reached the guest quarters. Victoria pushed the door open to a lavish room. Silken curtains covered the windows. The fine mahogany furniture was in pristine condition, if a little aged. Even the bed was large enough for four people. She gestured to the man to step inside, but a whole horde of dogs took the invitation as well. They took their time sniffing the stranger and his belongings. “Would you care for something to eat before getting some rest?” The criminal, however, waved the kind offer aside. “Ah, I’m afraid the shock of being shipwrecked took away my appetite. I wouldn’t want to waste any food, you see.” Or eat anything poisoned... He had learned long ago not to take chances with strangers and their food.

Fortunately, the gracious host understood his situation. “It’s quite alright. Please, let me know if you change your mind.” As she turned to leave the room, the horde of dogs followed in her wake. Closing the door, Richard listened to the footsteps move away before allowing himself to relax. Routine or not, putting on this ridiculous accent and attitude was exhausting. He lifted his suitcase onto the bed. The locks popped open with a strained clank. Huh. Usually those went click... As he had feared, most of his belongings were completely waterlogged. Should’ve invested in that water-proof suitcase after all... Well, silver lining, at least his sealed rations were still in edible condition. Nothing too fancy, mind you. Just some sausages, salt pork and hardtacks. He wouldn’t go hungry for a while. Plenty of time to plan his moves.

Once the clock crept past midnight, the guest room door slowly creaked open. The rat peeked out, glancing right and glancing left. Despite his caution, he nearly stepped on a small pug that happened to be snoozing right behind his door. An irritated sigh made his moustache twitch. This is why he hated dogs... Always in the way. Speaking of which, the  whole hallway felt like a furry minefield. One misstep would set off a barking alarm. The restless sleepers were the worst. One dumb fleabag kept squirming, feet flailing like it was trying to run on the air. He narrowly avoided stepping onto its tail.

Slowly the shady silhouette stalked through the dark halls. One after another, he peeked into every room he came across. Yet he couldn’t find a trace of riches... Just dogs, dogs and more dogs. The crazy woman even slept in the same bed with those mutts. As his head started feeling heavy and motions sluggish, he was forced to retreat back into his room. Hunger was beginning to gnaw as well. But... When he went for his suitcase, he found a chilling sight. He had been robbed! Sausages, salt pork, even the hardtacks nobody ate willingly... All gone! Tufts of hair mixed with crumbs on the floor. His stare of disbelief narrowed into a squint of suspicion. Just how did a dog open the locks anyway...? However, after considering it, he shook any silly doubts out of his head. Saltwater had probably broken the mechanism again. Wouldn’t be the first time. Gah, what terrible timing. He was forced to go to bed hungry and empty-handed...

Come next morning...

...At least Richard figured it was morning. The ongoing darkness was making it hard to tell. His steadily ticking watch confirmed that the clock was past nine already. Yet outside the wind continued howling and the sky kept crying. He struggled out of the bed despite the protests of his bruised body. The minefield outside of his room was gone, probably off to... uh... do whatever it is dogs did all day. Nothing useful, he guessed. However, the universe itself conspired to prove him wrong right then and there. A large St. Bernhardt lumbered past him, dragging a broom tied to its body. Three smaller dogs followed, with tiny brooms in their teeth. The baffled man of science watched the odd sight for a moment, before deciding that teaching a dog to sweep floors was nothing special. If Marines could manage it, then marginally smarter creatures could too.

After some searching, the criminal found his gracious hostess in the dining hall. She was sitting at the end of a long table that was loaded with a delicious breakfast assortment. Pancakes, omelettes, cookies, enough to feed a whole family. The scent alone felt intoxicating. Alongside her, dogs were standing on chairs and wolfing down food from silver plates. Her smile brightened immediately, eyes twinkling like tiny stars. “Ah, good morning, Mike. I hope you slept well. Please, take a seat.” Never one to decline a polite invitation, he sat down on the opposite end. Donning the usual mask, he smiled back. “Good morning, Victoria. The bed was the softest I have ever felt. If only I could sleep in it every night.” The comment was met with a giggle. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind either...” She averted her gaze wistfully.

Beneath the mask, the crook was straining to keep a straight face. So now the mutts were eating at the same table too. Lovely. Surely the dog hairs and bacteria enhanced the meals. Worse yet, his gut groaned weakly at the dizzying scent teasing his nostrils. It had been years since he had eaten proper pancakes... One of the dogs gave him a strange look, before turning to its owner and whining. She nodded in agreement. “Ah, you are quite correct, Lady Fluffington.” She reached for a small bell and rang it gently. Right on cue, a group of dogs appeared from the kitchen, pushing a trolley filled with food. They obediently brought it to the guest. “Here you go, Mike. You must be hungry.” Her smile was as sweet as the syrup coating the pancakes.

The charlatan chose his words carefully. “Oh, I would love to, but... I’ve felt a little ill. Something in my rations must’ve gone bad.” He rose from his seat and bowed his head. “Terribly sorry, but if you could point me towards the men’s room...?” The refusal dampened the young lady’s smile somewhat, but she was understanding nonetheless. “Ah, what a shame. It’s down the hallway, fourth door on the left. Sir Barkley can show you if-” The criminal hurriedly shooed away the black lab already moving up to him, like some sort of butler. “T-thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll be back in a moment.” He hurried out of the dining hall, squashing the thoughts skittering around his mind. This only proved that the crazy woman had too much free time in her hands... Nothing more.

Strutting down the hallway, the crook took the opportunity to go through some more doors. Cleaning closet, empty guest room, tea room... But no treasure room. In his search, he accidentally walked past the fourth door and instead opened the fifth. Upon looking inside, he froze. Seven dogs were sitting around a table, holding playing cards. There were bottles of booze and half-empty glasses among the chips. Two of the hounds were even smoking pipes. They turned to stare back at him, seeming equally shocked. He blinked... closed the door... and slowly opened it again. Now he simply found a group of dogs lazily snoozing on the floor. As he should have. None of that... whatever he thought he just saw there...

Eventually, the criminal had to end his search and return to the young lady before she got suspicious. The time spent with her was equally fruitless. All she seemed to care about were her darlings, as she insistently called them. Dogs this, dogs that... Not even careful prodding about how she could afford all this resulted in anything sensible. Before he even realized it, the whole day had been wasted. The storm showed no signs of ceasing either.

Another night silenced the mansion. His sleep was plagued by twisted nightmares. Sharp teeth gnashed. A shrill scream pierced his mind. The taste of warm crimson filled his mouth. Hungry... So hungry. He snapped awake in cold sweat, still trembling. His lip was bleeding, dripping red onto the blanket. Gah, of course he would bite his lip... This place was getting to him... His watch informed him that it was only 3 am. Shaking away the last trembles, he got dressed. No, he wouldn’t stay any longer. He would find those valuables even if it took all night. And if he failed to find any... His hand brushed against the holster by his side. Well, he always had other methods.

The shadow stalked through the corridors again, this time with certainty and purpose. If he were a betting man -and he was, another bad habit- then he would guess she held her valuables in her room. It was the only place he hadn’t searched yet. The heavy door slid open with a whine from the hinges. He peered inside... Only to find the bed empty. Before he even had the time to fear the worst, a deep growl rumbled behind him. Against all the protests from his cowardly instincts, he glanced over his shoulder. There stood a hound bigger than any he had ever seen, big enough to block the entire hallway. Its wild, black fur mixed with the shadows and eyes glowed like embers.

Richard took a step back, only for his retreating leg to bump into something. Another growl stole his attention. The horde of regular-sized dogs was glaring at him. Among them was the young lady, looking eerily calm. “My, Mister Maxwell, what might you be doing in here?” Her tone was surprised, but her visage was not. Reflexively the crook went for the usual excuses, until a tiny detail caught up with him. His accent slipped. “Oh, erm, I was just... uh... wait, did you call me...?” Victoria smiled with all the warmth of a winter storm. “Indeed, this little charade has gone on for long enough. I know who you are, Mister Maxwell. What you are.” She no longer hid the toxic contempt behind a sweet act.

The criminal reached for his holster, but in a heartbeat the horde was upon him. Sharp teeth dug into his clothing and flesh, pinning his limbs. Struggling was futile and painful. Victoria walked over to him with slow, deliberate steps. “All men are mere dogs. You may as well look the part too.” She curled her fingers and her nails sharpened like claws. Grasping him by the neck, she dug into his skin deep enough to draw blood. “Shhh, just relax... You will learn to enjoy the curse...” He could feel something seeping into him. His panicked scream turned into a howl. With a disgusting crack of bones, his limbs twisted into paws. Fur sprouted from his skin. The beady, green eyes turned pitch black. In a matter of seconds, the criminal disappeared and a mangy dog took his place.

Richard whimpered. He could feel his mind slipping. Memories were getting hazy. Who was this... Richard...? What was... a mind...? Thoughts disappeared. Feelings faded away... All except hunger. The cursed woman watched her new pet with smug satisfaction. “A fitting look for you. Now... Sit.” The command was met with a raspy growl. “I said SIT.” Suddenly the mangy dog wrenched itself free and lunged. Sharp teeth gnashed. A shrill scream pierced the mansion. The taste of warm crimson filled the hungry mouth... It’s not wise to test the loyalty of a hungry dog... They were once wolves, you know.

And some instincts never fade away.

The moon was full in the dark sky, the only source of light for the poor child running down below. The tall ramshackle buildings, boarded up, abandoned, dark, all towered over him as he ran down the streets alone. The sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls around him, echoing further from a lack of any other source of noise. Though if he stopped to strain his hearing he could almost imagine the sound of baying in the distance.

In his hands was a small bundle held together with a frayed string, the boy clasped it closely to his chest and continued running down the street. The streets were uneven and the floor caked in fresh mud from the sporadic showers during the day, each step grew more difficult as his feet sunk an inch before being immediately pulled back out. His breaths were already heavy before but the lack of any type of foundation here only made them more erratic. His eyes searched around him for anywhere to take refuge.

Eventually he spotted a door that was so rotted that it had collapsed partially, allowing just enough space for him to crawl through. As he approached the door he paused as a sound in the distance sent shivers down his spine. This time he was sure he heard the distant barks. He quickly crawled through the door and started to hurriedly look around the room. The room itself was rather bare of any furnishing, with a few piles of what seemed to be rags, miscellaneous grime, and what seemed to be fragments of what was once furniture. Nothing he could use to block the entrance at all. The sounds of chains echoed from outside and forced him to search another room for somewhere to hide.

The only options were a single door frame that held no door or the staircase that had several boards missing and seemed to be barely standing. Blue wide eyes darted between the two before shutting close for a second. The parcel was squeezed tightly against his chest as he tried to think of the best place to run. A decision was made and the blue eyes reappeared, the fear still present but no longer stricken with panic. They settled on the staircase and the boy moved quickly. He lightly stepped on the first step, easing his whole foot onto it as it creaked with each additional pound he laid upon it. Eventually he discovered that it could hold him and proceeded to do this with the next step, however the sound of barks caused him to panic and forgo caution.

He began to take each step at a faster pace, as he got half way up his left foot landed on a particularly rotted floorboard and broke right through it causing him to drop until his entire leg had fallen through the board. The boy cried out in pain as he felt several scapes on his leg from the jagged edge of the floorboard. After a few seconds of pained whimpers and making sure he hadn’t dropped the package, the boy placed it on the next and used both his arms to brace himself and pulled up his leg. His breaths were ragged and pained as he could feel blood trickling down his leg as he pulled it up and flexed it to fit through the board without touching the edges.

He crawled up the rest of the stairs, taking a deep painful breath each time he moved his injured left leg, and finally managed to reach the second floor. He sat on the top step and pulled up his injured leg to his chest, hugging it and feeling warm tears going down his cheeks. He was almost positive he had splinters in his leg but didn’t know what to do. His eyes went to the wrapped bundle beside him for a moment with contemplation, however he furrowed his brows and furiously wiped at his eyes with his torn sleeve. “That’s… *sob* That’s not for me.” The boy said to himself as he steeled himself to stand back up. With a silent sob he forced himself onto his feet but was leaning heavily on his right leg. He picked up the bundle and looked around, the hallway was small and only had two rooms he could go into, one to his left and one to his right.

He wiped his eyes again and started limping into the room to his right. Inside he saw a broken bed frame that seemed to collapse in on itself, a trunk at the foot of it, and a window that overlooked the street in front of the building. As he looked towards the window the sound of rapid footsteps carried up through the window along with the rattling of chains. The boys breath picked up and he realized he didn’t have much time. He began to look at the trunk and shook his head as his breath became even more erratic, however as he began to turn around he heard a voice drift in from the window.

“I know you’re around here, boy…” Said a deep voice from the street, it sounded as if it carried over from maybe a building or two. The boy ran a pale hand through his blonde hair and began to panic. His blue eyes shot back to the trunk and widened, filling with tears as the thought of what he had to do began to form in his mind. He clutched the parcel to his chest and slowly limped towards the trunk. He stood in front of it, staring at it in fear, before the sound of banging came from below. He quickly reached for the trunk's lid , closed his eyes once he had a hold on it, pushed it open and blindly lowered himself into it. Once he was inside of it he closed the lid and kept his eyes closed the whole time.

As the lid shut the sound of splintering wood came from the floorboards along with barks. A man's deep voice could be heard but the boy simply curled up and tried to control his breaths. They were short and rapid causing him to slowly go light headed but he couldn’t help it. The walls of the trunk felt as if they were growing closer and the boy couldn’t resist letting tears flow down his face as he felt as if he was running out of breath. The sound of footsteps and claws from below only made it more difficult for him as he couldn’t calm down.

Though the sound of barks coming from what sounded like the staircase finally scared the boy enough to open his eyes. The trunk wasn’t completely devoid of light as it had several cracks in it but it only made the illusion of the walls closing around him even worse. Though his fear was redirected to the noises beyond the encroaching walls as the sound of heavy footsteps started to ascend. Each step caused the boy to curl in on himself tighter and tighter until they reached the top of the staircase. The sound of a chain going taught, claws scratching rotten floorboards, and barking caused a feeling of despair to fill the boy and he realized he had no chance at hiding or getting away.

The sounds grew closer and eventually he could see through the cracks the shadows of his pursuers. A large shadow being dragged by a smaller one entered the room, it only took a moment for them to quickly approach his prison and stand over it. “Found you.” The boy suddenly felt his prison get lifted into the air get tossed across the room, for a second he felt weightless before reality set back in. As the trunk struck the ground it shattered and the boy was sprawled out on the floor before his pursuers.

“Sic em, girl.” Was all he heard before a heavy weight landed on his back and he could feel claws piercing into his back and drawing more blood from him. A hot pain tore through the boy as he felt rows of teeth bite into his shoulder and start yanking at his shoulder. He cried out in pain and started to flail with all his strength, trying to roll and eventually managing to get his legs underneath him to buck off the large black dog that nearly torn off a large chunk from his right shoulder. The boy crawled away and towards the window, crying openly and whimpering in pain with each draw of breath and movement.

The dog was quickly back on him but the boy flipped onto his back and tried to fend him off with his arms. The dog simply latched onto his left forearm and started rearing its head back and forth causing the boy to be dragged along with his arm. Rivulets of warm blood ran down his arm and began to stain the canines teeth red as the boy ineffectively tried to beat the dog with his right arm. A lucky strike managed to hit the beast’s eye and forced it to let go of his arm. He took the moment to pull his left arm against his chest to protect it even more. He then kicked against the floor in an attempt to get away from the dog, scooting backwards until he felt his back hit the wall.

At this point he saw the only reason the beast hadn’t pounced on him again was because the large man in white and blue uniform was stepping on the metal chain wrapped around its neck. The blonde boy followed the foot up to find the man’s stubbled face grinning as he brought a small wrapped bundle into his view. “You thought you could steal government property, did you boy?” The Marine asked with a malicious glint in his eye. “This isn’t meant for street rats like yourself, it’s for proper people like myself who have actual value in this world.” Each word was bit out and all the boy could do was cry and stare at the package longingly. He could feel blood beginning to pool around his left leg, spread from his shoulder down his back, and the blood from his arm staining his chest.

Despite it all he stared at the bundle with intense focus, trying to think of any possible way to get it. The Marine noticed it and simply tucked it out of view into his shirt and sneered at the boy. “There’s no getting through to animals such as yourself, the best we can do is put you down. Honestly the world will be better without another of you leeches.” As he finished he raised his foot releasing the dog which immediately pounced upon the boy. The blonde did his best to fend off the dog from his seated position but it wasn’t long before the dog had managed to land more bites and scratches on the kid causing him to start losing strength.

The whole time the marine was laughing, enjoying the show and cheering on his dog. This was why he never noticed a new presence slip into the room from the hallway, sidle along the wall, and get behind him. He also didn’t hear the slight sound of a piece of jagged bed frame being picked up from the floor, though he did hear the sudden sound of running footsteps behind him. The marine quickly turned around and saw a lanky brunette boy but by the time he registered that the boy was running he felt a sudden pain and immediately coughed up blood. Looking down a rudimentary stake that looked like it was once a corner of a bed frame was sticking out of his chest. He simply stared in shock as blood poured out of his wound and more blood was forcefully ejected from his mouth despite his body craving oxygen. He sunk to his knees and fell forward which only caused the stake to pass through and out the back of his chest.

The blonde boy had stopped fighting back and was simply being ragdolled, semi-conscious, when he realized that he’d stopped moving and was simply laying on the ground. His lidded blue eyes were unfocused and his thoughts were barely coherent. All he could feel was a coldness creeping in on him despite the sheer pain radiating all over his body and the warm blood sticking to him all over. He blinked and was suddenly sitting against the wall again, a shadow looking back at him. It was making noises but he couldn’t understand them, instead he leaned to the side in an attempt to look past and saw a familiar shadow on the floor in front of him. The boy fell on his side but managed to move his arm in a way that it landed on the floor while pointing at the large shadow.

He blinked again and was greeted to a new rocking sensation, something was beneath his legs and his cheek was pushed against something warm. The world around him changed and he could feel wet pin pricks all over his body. He mumbled something incoherent before blinking again. This time his eyes opened and he was no longer rocking or feeling any tiny lances of ice all over his skin. Before him was a brown wall, he was laying down and staring at a ceiling. The boy turned his head and saw another prone form with light blue hair across from him, the name slipped his mind but the person’s presence felt right. He blinked again.

“Nick. Nick, wake up. I need you to sit up so I can change these.” This time the blonde boy, Nick, woke up to feel someone forcing him into a sitting position. The brunette with a stern face but genuine concern in his eyes was holding dirty wet rags and was supporting him. “Good, now don’t move. I need to clean these.” Nick simply nodded and swayed slightly but stayed sitting and silent. “You fucking idiot. Don’t ever do anything that stupid again.” The brunette, Ced, said angrily as he began wiping away fresh blood from the reopened wounds and wrapping them.

“Is it… Did it work?” Nick mumbled out, struggling to speak due to how dry his mouth was. Ced simply continued wrapping the wounds and ignored the question. Once he was done he pushed Nick back into laying down and patted him gently on the shoulder before looking at the third occupant sleeping on the floor near them. “Yeah, his fever broke after I gave him some of that medicine. Jude will be fine.” Ced said as stood back up from his sitting position on the floor.

“Good. Worth it.” Nick said as he could feel sleep reclaiming him again and drifted back to sleep, dreaming of a world where they never had to steal or kill for a little medicine.