The Friend. [story]

Zeb:

He needed to take matters into his own hands. Rainier had been out of the forest, still asleep, for 23 hours. Her terrors had intensified when they brought her out. She whimpered and trembled and soaked everything in sweat. Zeb fought away the thoughts of her death. She couldn't. Not before he could love her properly. He reached out his hand and grabbed her balled-up fist. Love radiated from his hand, his eyes, his heart. How could she not know?

He needed to break her fever or she might.. No. He jumped out of his chair and ran down the hall-- into the front room to grab his jacket. His feet felt heavy and the house seemed to tilt with his steps. There was a slight smell of death spirits. He needed to hurry; he opened the door and began to run.

He reached his destination fairly quick, completely unsure of the time that had elapsed. Panting, he approached the house that was trying so hard to shut him out. The house had the feeling of swimming against a wave, but reluctantly he continued to the door and held out his hand to open the door.

Inside, smoke inhabited every possible free space. It drifted and danced around things. Each breath that he drew was full of emotion. The Alchemist's special blend.He was walking towards the back room when he saw a figure hunched over sitting in a chair. Smoke was swirling around him as if attracted to him, or curing him? His left hand was covered in blood and held his chest. Something had wounded him, Zeb noticed. He was around the same age as him, with dark matted hair that looked like it was once presentable. The stranger looked up at Zeb and narrowed his eyes. Dazed and confused he stood up and walked to a table near them. Zeb saw the dagger sheathed to his belt. A hunter.

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Continuing tomorrow. Must sleep. -_-