Silver

A cold sting registers somewhere on his skin, dragging his consciousness back to the surface with a vengeance. With a groan of pain, he tries to open his eyes but fails. His head feels heavy and every bone in his body feels like agony. Hell, he’s sure some are even broken.

Silver blinks slowly, trying to clear his head as the world around him comes back into view. The snow he used to love so much now feels like a relentless assault of white hell; a thousand biting cold stings on every exposed surface of his scales. He tries to shift a little, the rope binding him cutting deeper into his paws, numbing his limbs even more.

Never before has he hated the snow so much; it’s the cold embrace of his inevitable death. Even if the loss of blood doesn’t kill him, the cold will eventually, together with any hope he has about making it out of this alive.

Even if he could escape, where would he go? Most of his captors are familiar to him, some he even considered family. A small part of him feels hurt, tastes the vile bitterness of their betrayal but he shoves that feeling back down again.

He’s alone.

He’s always been alone from the day he was born. He’s always known that, so why should any of this be a surprise? Where were his so-called friends when they left him broken and bleeding on the floor? If he’s honest with himself, he could probably blame all of this on his own weakness too. He laughs bitterly, the sound nothing but a haunting rasp. Or maybe it’s just the universe’s way of getting even for years of self-inflicted pain he’d brushed off over and over again.

Another solid swipe to his jaw makes his head snap back. Pain throbs through his skull and into his brain. He doesn’t even have the breath left to scream, so he just pants, blood pooling on his tongue for a moment before it spills from his mouth and onto his chest. Another swipe of claws hits him again, blurring his vision from the shock. His chest aches and his head hurts enough to dull the next pounding of his captors. But what’s more pain when every nerve is already screaming in agony?

He doesn’t remember what they want, but it probably doesn’t matter. Not anymore. A cold chuckle rings through his ears between beatings but he ignores it, uncertain if they are mocking him, or if something inside of him finally snapped.

Instead, he lets his eyes focus on the splatter of blood on the snow. His own blood, he realizes with a sense of finality. Not only is he going to die, but he’s going to die like a chained-up beast, powerless and alone.

Another laugh, this one closer and menacing in a way laughter isn’t supposed to sound while torturing someone. Then a whisper of something cold against his jaw. Steel maybe? A prickle of fear crawls up his spine as warmth spills across his chest, the burning heat spreading slowly with every beat of his heart.

A whistling rattle comes from…somewhere… and his heart feels like it’s about to pound out of his chest. Then it slows, skipping a beat as the taste of blood fills his lungs. There’s an odd feeling of detachment, maybe? Everything feels like it’s on fire and his head feels heavy.

Too heavy. Maybe he should rest for a moment. Just enough to pull his thoughts back together.

Yeah, just a moment, he thinks, letting his head slump to his chest as the world turns black.