Chapter Eleven: An Unlikely Bond
A sharp cough jolted MC from his reverie. His heart pounded as he turned to face the figure. The man's eyes were closed, but his lips moved silently. With heightened senses, he caught the faint whisper, "Water."
A surge of instinct propelled him towards the man. As he knelt beside the imposing figure, he couldn't help but notice the man's striking features. His eyes, when open, must have been captivating.
A glint of metal caught his attention. It was a dagger sheath. Without hesitation, he snatched it up. The cold metal sent a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of his own manufactured existence. He discarded the sheath as quickly as he had picked it up.
When he returned with the water, the man was unconscious. His breathing was shallow, almost imperceptible. Desperation fueled his actions. He carefully poured the water into the sheath and held it to the man's lips. The water trickled down the man's chin, but some found its way into his mouth.
Time seemed to stretch as he made countless trips to the river, his paws aching with each plunge into the icy water. The man's condition seemed to stabilize, but the fear of losing him consumed him. In a desperate attempt to warm the man, he curled up on the hollow of his collarbone, sharing his body heat.
Exhaustion finally claimed him, and he drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, the man was staring at him. A flicker of recognition passed through the man's eyes as he looked at him. Then, with a grimace of pain, he reached for his side.
He watched in alarm as the man reopened his wound. He poured something from a small bottle onto the gash and roughly bandaged it. The man collapsed, his breathing labored.
He felt a surge of protectiveness. This man, wounded and alone, had become a lifeline in this desolate forest. A bond, forged in adversity, was forming between them, a connection as inexplicable as his own existence.