In the Darkness You Came to Me
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Instinctively, her arms wanted to come up as her body prepared to catch herself, but there was a tightness in her shoulder and a pain from that place, and the warrior was stopped. In that quick moment when her mind filled with chaos finally realized that her body was useless, she attempted to turn, to catch herself with the side of her body, the only place that seemed to be free of any major wounds. But she never hit the ground. The arms caught her, coming out to calm the chaos that had threatened upon her. They were gentle and strong as they held and supported her, his fur against her invoking those memories once more. She gave a soft sigh as the breath escaped her, quivering as she held back any sound that may have indicated the extent of the pain which throbbed now throughout her body with the unbound power of a river. The bruises and cuts and the deeper wound seemed individually to come alive and yet merge as one aver her entire body, aggravated even by the man’s gentle touch. Only her eyes were shut against that pain.


The eyes opened slightly at the sound of that voice, and it chased away the loud silence of that pain. The word ‘stitches’ caught her ear, and she wondered if that was what she had felt when she had touched the wound upon her back. But the warrior’s ignorance of human things was chased away as he spoke. She believed his words of rest and blood and wounds more keenly than her own thoughts at the moment, and she realized the full extent of what had happened. A frustration grew within the female, a feeling of uselessness and she felt her defeat within every wound. Yes, the female had learned that from defeat she must rise stronger, and this male had given her that chance, that chance against Death, to try again once more. But at the moment, feeling so close to the defeat, she could not help but feel herself withdraw within herself. And yet, it would be with this silent withdrawal into the self that she would be able to begin the learning process. Her hands were held limply against her breasts as he carried her away from the table. And the place in which he placed her was lower than the table, but it was softer too, as if it were meant for another to be held there.


Her eyes were held low when he brushed her hair aside, looking into her eyes. She hesitated for a moment before she lifted her gaze to meet his, and there was almost a sadness in her eyes. The warrior, for once in her life, felt that she had no control, and she struggled with this feeling. It was as if she were naked and alone, and yet, in being alone she was still here with this male. Perhaps he wouldn’t understand, or perhaps he would. But for a warrior, movement and reliance upon the body was everything, and without it she was nothing.... Against the pain, the quiet voice managed to gather her voice to offer the male a quiet, "No." And then she was forced to look away again, unable to meet the savory darkness of the male’s gaze. She fell back into the strange couch, forcing the tension from her body and allowing him to leave her side.

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