Page 26 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

My legs give out.

I hit the wet ground hard, knees sinking into mud.

My hands dig into my hair, fingers digging against my scalp hard enough to make my skull ache. The physical pain helps. Keeps me from disappearing completely into the static as growls and snarls tear out of me.

"Wraith."

Her voice is closer now.

The scarf slips further down my neck and I feel the fog's dampness on my exposed teeth. Cold. Everything's cold except the burning in my chest that won't stop, won't let me breathe, won't⁠—

Warm hands cover mine.

Her fingers slide between my fingers, gentle but firm, and she's kneeling in front of me now. Close enough that her honeysuckle scent cuts through the panic.

"Breathe with me," she whispers. "In."

I try. I fucking try because she asked me to. Manage a shaky inhale that rattles in my ruined throat.

"Out."

The exhale is worse. Sounds like a dying animal.

"Again. In."

Her thumbs stroke the backs of my hands where they're still buried in my hair.

"Out."

Somehow, I'm following her rhythm.

The static starts to recede, just a fraction. Enough that I can focus on her face instead of the screaming still in my head.

Did she scream?

I can't remember. Can't think about anything other than how much I want to cover my hideous fucking face right now and can't because she's holding my hands and I won't wrench them away from hers.

Won't risk hurting her.

Bend my head down instead.

My eyes flick up to hers.

It's automatic.

Always looking for her.

Even when I shouldn't.

"That's better," she says softly. "Stay with me, okay? Don't go back to that place."

I nod.

Or try to.

Not sure if my head actually moves.

"Can you sign at all?" she asks.