Chapter Text
The forest spun.
Each heartbeat thudded like a war drum in his ears. His body refused to shift, it wouldn’t shift. The poison was working too well, knotting his blood, dragging him down into a half-wolf, half-dead nightmare.
This was how it ended. Alone. Drunk on pain. Hunted. Too slow to kill the ones who had slipped the needle into his back. Too proud to call for help. Typical.
He’d closed his eyes expecting darkness. Instead, a figure burned into his vision like fire against snow.
Red hair, slightly curled and shoulder length. Bright as the setting sun. A face pale and severe, with eyes like rusted iron catching the moonlight. Kneeling over him.
A spirit. Surely. A keeper of the dead. His time had come.
“Spirit, I'm ready.. now,” he whispered, throat raw.
The figure snorted. “I’m not here to take you. Hold still.”
Then pain exploded across his senses. And cool fingers against his chest. Something bitter forced past his lips.
He choked.
And then, breath. His lungs opened. The fire in his veins dulled.
“You’re not..” he croaked. “You’re not death?”
“No.” A voice full of annoyance and strange tenderness. “I’m a medic. Ratchet. Try not to die.”
Deadlock blinked up at him.
He wasn’t glowing anymore. Or maybe he never was.
Just a young man. Tired. Sharp-edged. Pale bruised hands smeared with dirt and tincture. His Jaw clenched, eyes tight as he worked in light too dim for human eyes.
Beautiful.
Still unreal.
“ I’ll live?” he asked, as his vision swam and colors blurred, the world taken over by fiery orange red.
Ratchet didn’t look up from grinding herbs with his knife handle. “If you stop talking and let me finish.”