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Pet whumpee for sale who's been passed by for days because they're so obviously traumatized. Nobody appreciates a pet who flinches and whimpers upon being touched. What's the point?
Except Carewhumper, who's been looking for this exact thing. Carewhumper embracing Whumpee and holding them close even as their breath hitches in panic, gently stroking their hair. Carewhumper murmurs so gently to them as they tremble.
"There, see? It's not so bad. It's not so bad, is it? Shh, shh... it's all right. Look at you, you're so pretty. Shh. It's all right. You want to be good for me, don't you? I'm going to take such good care of you."
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stupid whump idea. twitch streamer!whumper.
“no no no chat I’m not- I’m not gonna do that! Okay fine, I’ll stab whumpee with the screwdriver, but after that I’m going right back to building the cage!”
“Ooh, someone redeemed a waterboarding session! Alright, I’ll do that after I figure out how to fix this shock collar.”
“What’s the sub goal? Uh, 50k subs and I’ll brand whumpee with ‘Subscribe to Whumper’”
Imagine an audio recording of whumpee crying being used as a twitch alert.
“Say it, whumpee.” “T-Thank you Whumpliker420 f-for the subs.”
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Ok so I didn’t know daydreaming about whump was so common?? Wow. It should work the opposite way but imagining being tortured and acting a little bit of it out helps me sleep?? I pretend I’m a character and rescued after and then fall unconscious in someone’s arms and it works every time. Sometimes it takes me longer so I pretend like I’m in the ICU afterwards, listening half-conscious as people whisper about me in concern
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dehumanization whump
yeah the "spitting on whumpee's face, using them as an ashtray, calling them like "mutt" and making them thank whumpers for their punishments" kind of dehumanization is so good but what about the "numbers instead of names, id tags, whumpees carried around like other objects and all this legalized and systemized for the Greater Good™ kind of dehumanization that's my absolute beloved
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“What are you gonna do? Oh no, yeah, go ahead. Call the cops. Assuming you could even get the call through before I get that phone away from you, the average police response time here is twenty-two minutes. Do you have any idea what I could do to you in twenty-two minutes?”
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Here’s a little tip, if you wake up at 3 am don’t check those results. Go back to sleep.
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Whumptober 2024
Whumptober 2024 No.3 Wrongfully Captured
TW: being held at gunpoint, referenced of whumper's drug use, pistol whipping.
Whumpee had his back to the door, He could feel his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.
"Open the fucking door Whumper!"
Whumpee didn't know what Whumper did in his free time, all he knew was that everyone had a problem with it and in the last month Whumper had stopped coming to work and forced him to wear his name tag some nights. Whumpee had very little choice in the matter. Not a lot of places wanted people that didn't have experience and if he ever wanted to move out of the attic of the store he needed to work.
Whumpee had tried to explain he wasn't Whumper but the nametag situation just made him seem like a liar. He didn't know what Whumper didn't give them or what he had done to warrant two men with guns coming into the store.
"Get in the car I'll handle it."
The pounding stopped and he listened as their footsteps moved away from the door, he heard the men rummage through the store and the shoplifting alarm go off before the bell rung letting him know they'd left the store. He stayed frozen up until he heard the car drive off.
"Fuck..." Whumpee scrambled out of the break room and to the counter grabbing the phone and calling Whumper. This had gone entirely too far. He signed up to work at a gas station and yet it felt like Whumper had just shoved all his problems onto Whumpee.
Whumpee was growing impatient waiting for Whumper to pick up the phone. He knew well Whumper wasn't asleep, not this early at least
"C'mon..c'mon." He said through gritted teeth, his hands still shaking from the encounter. Whumpee could barely hear the phone ringing over his own heartbeat.
"Hey."
"Whumper?! I can't stay-
"It's Whumper leave a message, and I'll probably call ya back."
The beep played and Whumpee groaned. His stupid voice mail had gotten him many times but now of all times was the worst possible
"Whumper, I need you to come get me...please call me back...some guys they-
A crash came from the breakroom.
"You piece of shit!" Whumpee growled, dropping the phone rushing to open the door for Whumper. Whumper claimed he'd forgotten them but Whumpee knew by now he'd probably lost them. "You were here and you were gonna let them shoot me?!"
Whumpee yanked open the door, one of the men from earlier stood in the doorway. Whumpee's heart dropped. The man wasted no time slamming a crow bar into the side of his legs. Whumpee screamed, failing to catch himself he landed on his side clutching at his knee. A boot to the chest forced him on his back. Whumpee gasped, the store lights blinding him as he was forced to face the man. He bent down forcing whumpee's head into a black drawstring bag.
"You've always made things so difficult for people y'know that. This has been a long time coming." The man lifted him with ease by the collar of his shirt.
"I'm not Whumper!" Whumpee rasped into the bag, the air inside already getting hot. The man dragged him across the store. He yelped trying again to speak but he was cut off by a monotone voice
"Whumper we're not gonna keep playing this game of cat and mouse you need to give Carewhumper his money back." The man's tone was just as scary as the situation. He was talking right now as if he wasn't trying to shoot him not even fifteen minutes ago.
"I'm not Whumper....he's not here I don't know where he is." Whumpee pleaded. He heard the man above him sigh. The collar of his shirt was yanked upwards bringing him onto his knees. Something metal slammed against his head and stayed pressed there. He didn't need to see it to know it was a gun.
"I'm not Whumper!" He screamed, tears welling up in his eyes. The inside of the bag was growing warmer his breathing alone being the main source. He couldn't take a normal breath, he struggling to keep it under control.
"You're still wearing your name tag you fucking junkie. You don't get to start over with your life until you give Carewhumper his money." The man punctuated every word with the barrel of the gun hitting it against Whumpee's head. A strangled whimper left him as the man grabbed his throat.
"Do you have the money?"
Whumpee had no money to give anyone he was barely taking care of himself on the daily. He knew what little he had couldn't possibly be enough. Whumper had tricked him into paying out his debt.
"I-In the register" He sputtered, the man shoved him back on the ground. Whumpee landed on his back but before he could try to get up he felt a pair of his flip him onto his hands and knees.
"Don't move."
Whumpee's face grew warmer from his own ragged breathing and the tears spilling over into the bag. His heartbeat was in his ears as he struggled to listen for the sound of the cash resister. He heard the quiet ding.
"You must think this is a joke."
"I'm not Whumper!" He sobbed as he felt a pair of rough hands grab him dragging him out of the store now.
"Please! I don't have any money! Everything I have is in the register!" He sobbed, the rocks of the asphalt dug into his knees as he was forced onto them again. Cold metal came down swiftly, he reached his hands up hoping to make it stop only to have them slapped away.Whumpee tried again and was met with another hit, and another and another before his collar was turned loose. Without anyone holding him up he fell backwards unable to do anything to keep his balance. His head crashed into the ground. Whumpee whined, the bag getting more hot as he continued to cry.
"Carewhumper knows a little bit of medical stuff... we can sell a couple of your fingers....maybe a kidney?"
"Im not whumper" He choked out. "
And we're not gonna hurt you anymore." The tone was sarcastic. Whumpee was met with a swift kick to the stomach and a pair of hand yanking his arms behind his back, duct taping his wrists behind his back before getting his ankles and knees together.
"Let's see what Carewhumper wants to do with him."
Another pair of hands grab onto him shoving him down into the trunk of the car. They pull off the bag revealing Whumpee's bloodied face. Whumpee stares at the two men above him. His vision too blurry to make out any details of the men. The trunk top slams shut.
#whumptober2024#no.3#no.11#wrongfully arrested#wrongfully captured#kidnaping#held at gun point#whump oc#vampire whumpee#give it up for day number 3#whump community#whumpblr#whump blog#whump#captive whumpee#poor whumpee#carewhumper#vampire whump#havent written hurt no comfort in a while sorry this is kinda sucky im rusty#convenice store
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“Aww look at those little fangs! Are you really trying to growl at me through the muzzle?”
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Whumpee is hooked up to something dangerous (magic crystal, machine, etc) and Caretaker needs to remove them from it, but Whumpee’s heart rate is too high right now and they need to calm down.
Leading to Caretaker asking Whumpee their favorite song, and trying to get them to sing it with them to even out their breathing before they painfully yank them off.
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Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics
As always, when writing about sensitive topics/injuries/illnesses, we encourage everyone to research and tag works appropriately. This is to ensure that the whump community can remain a safe space for everyone, as well as assist writers in creating well-informed works that avoid offending people and stereotyping, romanticising, or sensationalising hard topics.
Below are some links to resources we and others found useful - we'd like to thank the wonderful members of our community for helping us with finding great resources.
Blogs/Tumblr Posts:
@cripplecharacters - A whole blog dedicated to helping people write disabled characters.
^ A Guide to Writing Disabled Characters
@writingwithcolor - A whole blog dedicated to writing and resources centered on racial, ethnic and religious diversity.
^ Stereotypes and Tropes Navigation
Resources for Writing Injuries (Tumblr Masterpost)
Resources for Writing Sketchy Topics (Tumblr Masterpost - please note that a couple of links are broken due to the post being 7 years old, but many are still working!)
A guide to designing, drawing or writing characters who use mobility aids (Tumblr post)
Writing A Blind or Visually Impaired Character (Tumblr Post)
Independent Websites
Avoiding Stereotypes in Fiction: Characters with Mental Health Issues (WritersHelpingWriters)
How Do I Depict a Disabled Character Respectfully? (Fay Onyx, Mythcreants blog)
Respectfully Depicting a Character Adapting to a Disability (Fay Onyx, Mythcreants blog)
Writing Deaf Characters (T. Frohock, author.)
How to Write Deaf or Hard of Hearing Characters (Melanie Ashford, Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association)
How to Write a Blind or Vision Impaired Character (AllWriteAlright)
If anyone has any additional sources, feel free to share them in the reblogs/replies!
POST CONTRIBUTERS - Thank you!
@psychologeek - Thank you for sharing some of the primary resources with us, it helped us a great deal :)
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“I want you to remember this, next time you try to run away. Remember that you will always end up here again, bleeding, crying, begging”
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ideas for newly rescued living weapon whumpees?
>:D Of course
Newly Rescued Living Weapon Prompts
Caretaker failed to notice that Weapon woke from their drugging. It wasn't until they were being held against the wall by their throat that they did.
Two newly rescued living weapons are proving to be dangers to each other. Caretaker isn't strong enough to break them up shit hits the fan.
A muzzled Weapon won't allow Caretaker to remove their constraints, citing that they promise they'll be a danger.
Caretaker removes the heavy armor Weapon always wore, unveiling thickened scars lashed across their back.
Living Weapon accidentally draws Caretaker's blood. Before Caretaker can even convince them that an accident is simply that, Living Weapon takes their leave.
Screams and hollered commands woke Caretaker from a deep sleep. They immediately knew who it was coming from.
Weapon doesn't cry, peep, or really do anything as Caretaker tends to them. Caretaker is worried that in their poor healthy they're going to fall dead on them without saying a word about it.
Caretaker acted gently, tightening weapon's bandages, asking them if it hurts, cleaning old wounds. They were shocked at the tears that Weapon started to weep in silence.
Whumpee doesn't understand what's fully going on. They've assumed themselves as caretaker's new weapon, guarding them wherever they go. They're even starting to get aggressively protective.
Weapon's dangerous features (fangs, sharp tail, claws, robotic attachments, etc.) need some TLC too. Caretaker has to put their entire trust in Whumpee to help them, as in such a position Whumpee could easily finish Caretaker off.
Weapon only eats, drinks, and sleeps to specific commands. Caretaker either has to get things forcefully into Whumpee's system, or figure out these commands before it's too late. Weapon is growing thin.
Caretaker traces their fingers over all the scars Weapon has accumulated. These can't be from battles.
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I love the thought of a Hero being an accidental Whumper to their sidekick. Their constant pressure on Sidekick Whumpee, pushing them way past their limits and punishments going way too far until sidekick finally breaks down, whether it be mentally or physically and Hero having to deal with the consequences and results of their actions on Sidekick.
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And after everything was destroyed the weapon collapsed, crying.
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Fly by Moonlight
CW: Vaguely fantasy, hunting, possessive whumper referenced, bullet wound, guns, blood, makeshift surgery, implied dehumanization, scarring
Chapter One
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The sky above them was an explosion of stars. With her head tilted back until it tipped against the sleeping bag, providing her the barest protection from simple dirt, she could see the Milky Way itself, winding its ghostly way from one horizon to the other. It was funny, to think that she was a part of that winding, sinuous length of endless light.
The people who think they came from stars, she thought, must have been people who thought highly of themselves. There was nothing more incredible than this, and it seemed impossible to understand how something as amazing as stardust could coalesce into the reality of wind rushing through leaves around their campsite, the simple beauty of her own heartbeat and blood.
Alongside the universes she could imagine above her, the moon hung heavy and full. Supermoon time, it was so much larger than usual, blocking some of the stars when Anaya tried to find them.
The moon, she thought, felt like what it was - a piece of earth thrown into space by asteroid impact. Like a mother who loses the grip of her child’s hand, and all of history had been the story of their slow reconciliation. Or maybe of the child running, always staying just ahead of her mother’s reach.
Anaya Cross laced her fingers together behind her head, her heavy, dark hair providing as much softness as any pillow. Beside her, in another sleeping bag, her boyfriend Eden had long since fallen asleep. His heavy, soft breathing and the sight of his ash-blond hair falling over his forehead was another kind of peace. Eden only slept well in the wilderness, and Anaya never slept well at all.
Even if she didn’t sleep much, here, she could rest by watching the stars. Her eyes traced a constellation, catching on the edge of the corona borealis and following its C-shaped swing from one end to the other.
Then, she heard a sound.
It was a faded sort of boom, as if someone in the park had set off a huge firework, one of those big mortar kinds Anaya had been terrified of as a child and still avoided today. She frowned, shifting uneasily and pushing herself up a little onto her elbows.
At first all she heard was the wind, the soft whispering of the leaves.
Then it happened again.
Boom.
Anaya took in a quick breath and sat up fully, head tipped to one side. This time, the sound was followed by a high-pitched squeal, almost a scream, but totally inhuman. Anaya’s breath caught, and she scrambled to push herself out of the sleeping bag, leaning on her knees over to shake Eden’s shoulder. “Eden-... Eden! Wake up!”
Eden groaned, slapping ineffectually at her hand, before his eyes finally blinked slowly open. They looked fogged over, still half-asleep, but he moved to sit as Anaya popped up to standing. “Wh-... what’sit?” It was all one run-on sound, hardly language. “Naya? What’ss… what time’sit?”
“I don’t know,” She answered, shifting forward slowly. Between the stars and the moon, the night around them was nearly as bright as daylight, only with a cool, almost blue tint to everything around them. “I heard something. Like a-... like a gunshot. I think. From a really fucking big gun.”
“You heard-...” Eden’s brain was still struggling to come online. He raked a hand back through his hair, leaving it standing up in wild chunks all over his head, before he started wiggling his way out of his sleeping bag, too. He stood, scratching at his stomach underneath his ratty old t-shirt, gray sweatpants hanging low on narrow hips. “A gunshot? Here? But-”
“Protected reserve, I know. But I definitely heard it. Do you think…” She trailed off. All she heard now was the wind, rushing through the trees. Only-... was it only the wind? Or was there a discordant note, crashing of something desperate running for its life?
Boom.
This time she could see Eden heard it too, his eyes widening. The sound was closer, louder, more immediate. Anaya and Eden’s gazes met, and then without a word spoken the two of them half-ran, half-walked as one to the edge of the clearing and away from the obviousness of their campsite. Eden’s car was parked at the camp lot a three-hour hike away, and they were deep within a part of the reserve no one was supposed to go to. It had seemed romantic, when they came here and chose this space, carefully marking their trail to ensure they could make it back. It had seemed like a way to get away from it all and really find peace, let Eden get some real sleep.
Now, though, it seemed to hit Anaya all at once that coming out here - alone, with only her boyfriend, with no one really aware of where they’d gone other than ‘camping’ - had been monumentally, impossibly stupid.
Anaya crouched down behind a tree, keeping the campsite in view. Woods like these could get you lost within a few feet of where you’d been, the trees so close together that they hid you from your own trail unless it was well-marked. Eden moved to be just slightly in front of her, shielding her a little.
Not that it would matter against a gun that could make a sound like that.
“Poacher?” She whispered.
“Probably,” He whispered back. Now the crashing seemed close, and Eden’s body was warm against hers even as both of them were shivering. “But what is there even to hunt here? You can find deer anywhere in this stupid state, you don’t need-”
The answer to his question came flying out of the woods in front of them.
A huge wolf that somehow still looked half-grown and spindly, with too-long legs and giant paws, flashed through their campsite in a reddish-gray gleam lit by moonlight. Until it tripped over Anaya’s cooler full of beer and went tumbling, high-pitched whimpers and whines filling the air. Anaya jerked forward when she realized the cooler now had a red smear along the white lid, but Eden grabbed her arm to pull her back out of sight.
“It’s bleeding!” Anaya hissed. “That poacher shot it! We should go help!”
Eden’s grip only tightened. “It’s not a dog,” He hissed back. “It’ll just attack you. Not to mention the poacher will shoot you, too. Just stay here, Naya!”
The wolf stood on shaking legs, a low soft whine in its throat. The light of the moon seemed to turn the tips of its red fur to silver, reflected in its strangely human-looking eyes. Anaya blinked at the sight of scarring around its snout, like something had been wrapped there at some point until it dug in. It limped to the edge of the clearing, tumbling hard to one side before righting itself. Blood streamed from one back leg, clumping the fur and leaving a dark stain.
The wolf’s tongue hung from its mouth and it panted heavily even as it tried to lick at the blood and the wound beneath it, ears pricked and moving constantly. Its tail was tucked between its legs. Its nose went to the ground, picking up the scents of Anaya and Eden probably, and Anaya shivered when it growled.
The low rumble was more frightening than the sound of the gun.
At least the gunshots hadn’t been about her.
After a long pause, the wolf’s growl ended. It did what Anaya could only call taking a deep breath to steady itself, and then limped heavily away, out of the clearing in the general direction of the main hiking trails where Anaya and Eden had started their hike out here. Its nose stayed low, and Anaya heard Eden let out a breath in a rush once it was out of sight.
“Uh… what do we do now-”
Anaya clapped her hand over Eden’s mouth, shushing him and yanking him further back around the tree trunk.
The man with the gun - and holy shit, Anaya didn’t even know they made guns that big - stepped into the clearing, taking in the sight of the destroyed campsite smeared with wolf blood with a baffled, incredulous expression. He wasn’t too much older than them, maybe in his thirties, but he had a hardness to his jaw that said whatever his age, the years had definitely sucked the life out of him.
“Well… shit.” The man huffed, moving forward and using the muzzle of his gun to nudge the blood-stained cooler, lifting up the sleeping bag Eden had been in only a few moments ago. He ran a hand back over his crew cut, looking around. “Hey! Is anyone here? Anyone hurt?” The sound of concern in his voice seemed real.
But Anaya and Eden were alone, in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. And this guy had an enormous fucking gun. They stayed silent, in the dark.
“God damn it.” The poacher sighed, looking down at the sleeping bags. “Shit shit shit. If he killed somebody… that little shit. Fucking campers on our land. Bet he chased them off. I’ll have to call Bill and report it. He’s gonna kill me when he sees Rusty got out, let alone that he made a mess out of campers… if they find bodies on our land again, we are going to have the government up our fucking ass…”
He pulled out a compass and looked at it, then looked ahead, eyes scanning the ground. He must have seen some of the wolf’s blood on a leaf in some underbrush, because he moved forward confidently then. He went through the clearing, from one side to the other, and then was gone.
Anaya and Eden waited until the sound of the man moving through the forest had faded into the distance, and then looked at each other.
“... Did we go too far and end up on private land?” Anaya asked.
At the same time, Eden said, “Did he say ‘if they find bodies on our land again?’”
Both of them stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then, as if they’d come to some agreement that didn’t need words, they moved out to the wreckage of the campsite. Anaya rolled up the sleeping bags while Eden checked on the small cooler, wiped the rest of the blood off of it with a shudder, and then shifted it back into the heavy pack he’d carried out here. Anaya felt the tension rising between them, until it was tight enough it might snap. Her heart pounded so hard it found its way up her throat, making her occasionally stop to catch her breath. The two of them pulled their socks on and then laced up their hiking boots after. Neither even bothered to dress in daytime clothing. Their sweatpants and t-shirts seemed like enough, for now.
The hike back was silent and slow.
They put one foot carefully in front of the other, following the markings Anaya had left wrapped around trees in non-obvious places. She undid each and every colorful ribbon, packing them back away. Taking back everything they’d brought with them. No sign they’d ever been here at all, ideally.
She found herself wondering where the park ended and private land began. There’d been no signs, no warnings. Not any that they saw, anyway. Then again, it’s not like you could mark every square inch of a wild forest like this one.
Above them, the moon hung heavy. When its light cut through the canopy overhead, it made everything otherworldly and beautiful.
If only Anaya could appreciate it, and not take every quiet step sure she’d see the end of a gun between her eyes the moment she looked up.
At some point, they got close enough to the trail for cell phone signal to come back, and her phone buzzed with a handful of missed messages. Nothing that suggested anything big had happened while they were out of reach. She didn’t dare check it - not yet. Not until she felt sure that the light from her screen wouldn’t draw in either an injured, probably hostile wolf and a healthy, definitely hostile guy with a gun.
She kept cycling her thoughts back to the sight of the thing. Something had been off about it, but she didn’t know enough about guns to even begin to know what. Hell, she didn’t know enough about guns to even know if anything was actually off, or if she was just thinking of movie-guns and not understanding that the real thing was different.
Exhaustion dragged at the edges of her mind, even as adrenaline kept her so wired that she knew she couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep even if they simply laid down right here. Hours passed, Eden and Anaya saying little to each other. They heard the boom just once more, far enough away that they felt themselves finally able to relax.
Wherever the guy had tracked the injured wolf, it wasn’t in the direction they were going.
Finally, they stumbled back out onto the trail.
Anaya checked her phone, as surreptitiously as she could.
It was almost three in the morning, and they had another good two hours of hiking on the trail before they got to the parking lot.
“I say we sleep in the car,” Eden said, voice heavy and husky. When Anaya glanced over at him, his half-lidded eyes reminded her of a sleepy kitten, and she found herself smiling, briefly overwhelmed with love for him. He frowned back at her. “What?”
“You’re cute,” She said. He shook his head and started walking again, but she caught the edge of his smile before he turned to hide it from her.
“Pretty sure the T was supposed to make me handsome, not cute,” He said over his shoulder as he started walking again.
Anaya had to stifle a laugh - talking might be okay, might be safe, but laughter carried further. Especially Anaya’s laughter, which had a tendency to be too loud, according to her mother. Too loud, attention-taking. Just like all her emotions. “Well, you’re definitely handsome,” Anaya said brightly, falling in behind him. “You’re just also cute. You were handsome before the T, too, by the way.”
He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders straightened a little, and she caught the edge of a flush to his cheeks.
Her feet ached by the time they had Eden’s car in view, the ancient Subaru with its huge trunk thanks to the removed backseat a white gleam in the pinkish light of early dawn. The moon was still visible, just now beginning to fade as sunlight overtook it, wiped it out. Each throb was in time with her pulse, and Anaya’s brain seemed to have become mush at some point.
They could sleep in the back of Eden’s car, if they made it to a safe parking lot or something in town. Maybe the diner where they had parked before they came up here, those people had seemed pretty cool about it.
Eden came to a sudden stop, and Anaya walked into him so hard the two of them both stumbled, Eden with a huffed breath, an oof that any other day would have been funny. But now Anaya just groaned. It better not be the poacher having found them. She was too damn tired to deal with that, or even be scared of it anymore.
At least if he shoots me I can get some damn rest, she thought.
Out loud, she only mumbled, “What?”
Eden swallowed. Anaya could hear it. Something about that woke her back up all at once, sent brand new adrenaline flooding through her. Her head began to pound in time with her feet and her heart. Would anything not hurt by the end of today?
“There’s something under our car,” Eden said, voice hushed.
Anaya stiffened. “The wolf?”
Eden took one step forward, and then another. He squinted. “... No. I think it’s… a person.”
“A what?”
Who would be out here? Thanks to flooding on the more well-known trails, this park had been more or less empty of tourists. It was one of the reasons Eden and Anaya had chosen this for their off-trail campsite. Eden moved slowly forward, and Anaya followed him. Once she got closer, though, she moved more quickly, dropping her bag next to the car and moving into a crouch.
The sound of her pack hitting the pavement made the boy curled up under the car flinch, his arms jerking to cover his head with his hands, knees nearly to his chin. Anaya caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair through his fingers, a swath of pale skin marked with brown freckles at the shoulders, the tip of his nose.
“Hello?” Anaya whispered, reaching slowly out. Her fingertips just touched the boy when his eyes snapped open and he looked at her with wild, animal terror.
His eyes were the same color as the wolf’s.
His hair was the same color as the wolf’s fur had been, reddish brown, maybe tipped with some gray.
His left leg had a wound blown right through it - bullet wound, Anaya thought a little wildly, I’m looking at the entrance and the exit’s at the back, he’s lucky it didn’t hit the artery there - and the blood was… everywhere.
The boy’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a useless snarl. His teeth were flat, human, except for maybe his incisors being a little too long, a little too sharp. He had scars marked across his face, around his neck, all over his arms. Some old, simply silk-soft skin marked in risen lines, some fresher, still bright red. A couple even looked like they’d been bleeding recently, too. He made a sound that Anaya only realized after a beat was an attempt to growl.
“... This is the wolf,” Anaya said, voice low. “Eden… Eden, this is the wolf.”
“What? No. That’s clearly a dude. The poacher must have seen him and shot him.”
“No, this is-... his eyes Eden-”
“That’s not a wolf, Naya. End of story. That is a dumbass teenager who did dumbass things. Somebody’s probably looking for him.”
Anaya thought of the poacher’s confusion, his angry concern. “... Yeah, somebody probably is.”
Eden dropped into a crouch beside her, casually pulling out the knife he always had on him, flicking it so the blade showed. “Naya, something’s wrong with this kid.”
The boy’s eyes went to the gleam of sharp metal and he whined, curling up tighter. Anaya frowned, looking at his leg. The blood. The wound. The way the boy’s skin was ash-pale under his freckles. The scars, half of them rough but the other half precise.
Knife-blade scars. She had some old ones herself, although hers had been self-inflicted.
She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, felt it trembling under her touch. She could barely reach him, he was so far under the car. “Hey.” She gentled her voice as much as she could, rubbing lightly. Goosebumps rose where her fingertips went, but the trembling seemed to settle a little. “Hey, kid. You’re… you’re really hurt. We’re gonna call someone-”
The boy scrambled backwards away. “No!” His voice came out hoarse, as if he wasn’t used to speaking - or speaking with a human mouth, anyway. “No! Don’t! Don’t call!” He made it to the other side of the car, scrambling to his feet. Anaya went to chase him, but in the end she didn’t have to - as soon as he tried to put weight on his leg, he went down hard, scraping the palms of his hands on the pavement and letting out a pained cry.
Anaya swallowed. “Eden-”
“I’ll call 911-”
“No,” she whispered. “He’s scared of that. Let’s just… let’s just put him in the back of the car, yeah?”
Eden paused. “Naya, are you fucking out of your mind? Where are we gonna take him? He needs a hospital.”
“Or a vet clinic,” She muttered, ignoring the look Eden gave her at the dark joke. “No, let’s just. Okay, let’s just… we have our first aid kit. You know how to do stitches-”
“Stitches, sure, but I’m not exactly qualified to treat wounds like that.”
“Try. Let’s get him into the car. Hey, kid? Kid, hey.” Anaya went to the crumpled heap of teenager, grasping onto his arm. He shivered and tried weakly to pull away, but between the pain and the blood loss, he wasn’t exactly able to put up much of a fight. Eden opened the trunk of the car and threw in their packs while Anaya helped the boy to stand. She could hear Eden laying down the towels and sleeping bags, opening up the first aid kit.
That’s why she loved him. He might think she’d lost her mind on this, but he’d still follow her lead.
The injured boy gripped onto her once he was upright, his eyes dancing in terror from Eden to Anaya and back again.
“Don’t,” He whispered. “Don’t.”
“We’re just going to get you bandaged up and something to eat,” Anaya said, voice soothing, easing him into the trunk until he could lay down in there. “Then we can talk, okay? First off, we need to stop the bleeding.”
Those odd eyes stared at her, but he laid down on his side slowly. Anaya had been vaguely aware the boy was naked, but only now did it hit her that the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“I’m Anaya,” She said, softly, taking his hand and holding it while Eden took a wet cloth and began to wipe away the blood to try and get a better look at the wound. “I’m Anaya Cross, and this is my boyfriend Eden Yarrow. We’re going to help you.”
“There’s no exit wound,” Eden muttered, looking at the backside of the boy’s thigh. “He needs a surgeon, Naya-”
“Well, good thing you trained to be one, huh?"
"Yeah, before I quit residency-"
"Eden, just... can you get the bullet out?”
Eden exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Probably. It's a pretty clean wound. I definitely shouldn’t, but…”
“Well, try.” She turned back to the boy, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. The kid stared at her like she’d grown a second head, but he didn’t pull his hand back. He just… watched her, with those strange canine eyes. “Hey. We’re gonna get the bullet out of you, and then we’ll help you get somewhere with people.”
“No,” He said again. His eyes moved from one to the other. “No… people.”
Eden’s eyes closed. He muttered something under his breath that Anaya didn’t quite hear. Then he moved to dig around in the first aid kit again.
“Okay. Well, we’ll figure that bit out as we go, then. Can you tell us your name?”
She thought of the poacher mentioning Rusty.
The boy was quiet for a long, drawn-out silence broken only by a hiss when Eden used a sanitizing wipe on the wound, cleaning it out again as best he could. Finally, almost under his breath, he whispered, “Misae.”
“Missy?” Eden said, nose wrinkling. “Your name is Missy?”
The boy’s odd eyes narrowed. “Misae,” He repeated, a little louder. Mih-say-eh. Some of the gravelly hoarseness was leaving his voice, the more he spoke. Anaya wondered if he didn’t speak often.
“That man with the gun called you Rusty, I think,” Anaya said, keeping her own voice gentle.
“... their name for me.” Misae hissed through his teeth, lips pulled back in a snarl again as Eden began to probe into the wound, eyes closing tightly. Tears leaked fro the corners of his eyes. Anaya gave him both her hands and he gripped on tight enough to hurt, making a sound that was clearly meant to be a canine whine. “Not… my name.”
“But Misae is your name.”
“Y… Yes.” His head lowered until the top of it, the shaggy reddish hair, pressed against her. He kept pushing against her, until she twisted one hand free and laid it there, scratching her fingers against his scalp. His whining softened, then. It was all so terribly… doglike.
No.
Wolf.
Anaya tried not to look as his leg twitched and oozed blood even as Eden carefully worked one of the tools he kept on hand into the wound, searching for the bullet. Misae didn’t answer at first. She leaned over, hoping her voice could carry through the pain. “It’s okay, honey. You’re going to be okay.”
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Misae groaned, finally laying his head directly in her lap. She could feel his tears soaking into her sweatpants, the hitching of his breath as he fought not to sob. His voice was a whisper she barely heard, twisted around his pained, frightened whimpers.
“Th-thank… thank you…”
“Found it!” Eden shouted, triumphant. He might have been reluctant to do this, but there was a reason he’d worked so hard to fill his first aid kit with anything you might need to stay alive in the wilderness when medical care was too far to get to in time. There was a reason he’d trained as a surgeon. He was good at this, he always had been. He wiggled the little tool, making Misae cry harder, but then something bloody and shimmering beneath the red came out, and Eden dropped it on a towel beside Misae. “Intact, even. Nice.”
Eden was focused on getting the wound closed up and stitches sewn. Anaya though, watched blood slide along the surface of the bullet, too big, a terrifying size. The gleam of the metal, though, along with the strange runes carved into it, made her eyebrows furrow. “... Eden.”
“Mmmn?” He dipped the needle, pulled it through skin. Anaya knew if she looked she’d faint dead away, so she kept her eyes on the bullet. On the shine.
“That’s… that hunter shot him with silver.”
Eden stilled and looked up, his eyes catching on the bullet, too. Then shifting over to Misae, who was shaking like a leaf, eyes open now, wide and almost sightless. In shock, Anaya thought, not that she knew for sure or even really understood what being in shock meant. But it reminded her of people going into shock in the movies, on television. Eden’s eyes moved to meet Anaya’s.
“Once I finish stitching him up,” He said, voice low and calm, “We drive this car as far away from here as we can get before we stop.”
“We’re taking him with us.”
“... Naya-”
Anaya’s jaw set and she raised her chin. “We’re taking Misae.”
Eden looked down at the boy, who didn’t seem to hear or even see the two of them any longer. Then he huffed and went back to what he was doing, sewing slow, careful, precise stitches even as he had to continually wipe away blood, too. “Fine. We go as far as we can with him, and then we… think about what we do next. Figure out how to call his family or something.”
“Fair.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
They paused, and smiled at each other.
Then Misae whimpered, and Anaya realized she’d stopped scratching his head. She started up again, and felt some of his shaking settle once more. “Do you have family?” Anaya asked, trying to distract him as Eden finished up. “Someone looking for you?”
Misae was silent for so long that she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her.
Then he answered, voice low, “No family. Not… anymore."
"Did you run away from them?"
"No.” Misae's body shuddered, and Anaya found herself rubbing her thumb in little circles just behind one ear. "No."
"Then-"
"Dead. Everyone... is dead. But me."
-
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