More than life

Sinking ship

Erra gingerly twitched his fingers. Opening his eyes slowly, he winced. The sun was high above his head, its light dappled around him as he lay on the Forrest floor. He was naked.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Erra groaned in agony. His body was littered with a collage of cuts and bruises. Someone's blood was streaked through his hair- was it his own? It had to be. But his wounds were already beginning to heal... Breathing shallowly, he cleared his throat and mumbled a few words. 

The forrest melted away, the trees shrinking down and the sky caving in. He lay back, relishing in the warmth of the mattress beneath him.

Erra was lying in an empty room, save for the simple bed upon which he now lay. There were two doors on either side of him, built of heavy oak. One stood slightly ajar.

He lay there for a long time, his eyes closed. The door creaked.

When he'd finally regained some strength, Erra stiffly sat up. Most of his wounds had healed, with faint echoes of scars where the flesh had been sliced open only a few hours previously. There were still flecks of dried blood here and there, some much darker and angrier than the rest.

As he pushed himself up, a searing pain shot through his upper arm. The boy moaned, glancing at it nervously. A large bite mark  aggressively punctuated the skin just shy of his shoulder. It was bleeding profusely.

He sighed. It had never been this bad before. Erra knew he couldn't deal with this himself, he didn't have the knowledge or the equipment. He had to go to Madame Pomfrey.

***

Sinking ship-
How long can you hold still?
Your illness spills against my face

Sinking ship-
How long can you hold still?
Oh, can't you feel the coming waves?
A perfect Sunday portrait of my mother painting horses all alone
Of lovers and of leavers still believing they are free to come and go

***