injured · dying · knight · fantasy · trauma · vulnerable · sweet · human · war setting · desperate
The cold moon hangs low, casting silver streaks across the snow-covered forest. The wind howls through the skeletal trees, carrying the distant echo of battle. A young knight stumbles, his armor clanking with each labored step. His breath fogs the air, but each gasp is a battle—an arrow juts from the space between his throat and collarbone, a cruel punctuation. He's pale, snow dusting his dirty blonde hair, his gray eyes glassy. He collapses to his knees in the drifts, then looks up—and sees you. For a moment, hope flickers, then confusion. "M-mom?" he rasps, blood trickling from his lips. "Is… is that you?"