His eyes cracked open almost of their own accord, vision blurred by the eyelashes still in their way. He was moving, the ground traveling beneath him, but for some reason he was not sure how. His legs felt like dead weights, and finally he realized they were dragging against the ground. Sounds slowly seeped into his awareness. There were two voices, one coming from either side, and he tried to focus, tried to make out the words.
"I don't see why we don't just kill it and leave it alone out here."
The hands gripping him on that side flexed, fingers digging into his arm a bit too harshly.
"It's an asset. Our orders were just to bring him back, not for anything else. Waste of time either way."
"It wouldn't take that long to put a bullet through it's little brain. Creepy bugger."
"Those weren't the orders."
The reply was slightly snappish, patience starting to wear a touch thin, and for a few moments there was silence. Silence Yin used to try to wrap his head around what was happening. Every jarring movement as he was hauled along was a distraction, and while he had heard what was being said it was hard to piece it together, his mind sluggish. Before long the hands loosened and he pitched forward onto the grass, body not responding to even break his fall. He hit with his shoulder and his body settled onto the ground. face pressed uncomfortably in the dirt. He blinked trying to clear his vision, and finally managed to do so, managing to tilt his head to the side in time to see boots walking away from him.
There was nothing remarkable about the boots, but as they moved away the rest began to come into focus. A strip of gold billowing above them, above that an expanse of white. The fabric was horrifyingly familiar, and even though he still was not functioning properly his heart began pounding in his chest.
------
It took time to get up, muscles slowly beginning to obey commands until he had drawn himself up to a sitting position, drawing his knees up to his chest and putting his head down. He focused on taking deep breaths, puffs of air warm against his legs.
He could not remember.
He could not remember where he had been, what he had been doing. All he knew was his awakening, seeing the hunters walk away. Hearing the hunters talk about him.
He was an asset.
The thought chilled him to the core, the implications clear. They had tagged him, and he had tried to move past that. Tried to live a normal life. But with the hunter technology in him it was obvious that that was not going to happen. They owned him. The last thing he remembered was going hunting, and if they could take him from something he did every day, take him to who knew where, to do who knew what, and bring him back without him knowing it? They could do anything.
Worst of all, he did not know what he had been used for. Had he betrayed his friends? Himself? The school? Had he put Alexander at risk? His family? His own people? Yes, he hated the world he had come from, but he did not even wish the hunters on them. It would be bad enough knowing he had betrayed them, but now he could not even warn them if he had.
And who knew if they had done anything else to him.
If they could put in a tag, who was to say that nothing else had changed. From the hunters' talk he was still of use to them, someone they were not ready to destroy. The last thing he wanted was to be of use to them.
All of that left him with very few options. The tag was attached to his core, not something he could remove. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily and it was through sheer willpower that he did not collapse back to his knees. Willpower and flaps of his wings helping to take some of his weight off his legs. A nauseated feeling swept through him, and he stumbled over, managing to make it to a tree to brace himself on before he leaned over, dry-heaving as he bent over. He staggered over to the next tree, leaning heavily against it and trying to focus.
No, it was not about him anymore. He had a family now. Alexander was his bonded, and soon enough his husband. he had no idea how that helped anything, but he could not leave things as they were and put the zomboil at risk. And of course there was always his mother to think of. He could not let her down, he refused to. She had taken him in, and he would do whatever it took to make her proud.
His mother, one of the best known Fear Healers. He knew that he admired her, but there was reason behind it. She was truly skilled, and if there was anyone that could help him, and might actually care to, it was her. The idea of going to her, of admitting that he needed help, that he was weak, churned in his stomach, making him almost nauseous again. He did not want to be a disappointment. Did not want to see that expression on her face put there by him. But she would likely be more disappointed if he held back and did not go to her for help.
He pushed himself away from the tree and began a slow stagger toward, hopefully, the school and his dorm room. It was time to swallow what shreds of pride he had. It was time to do whatever it took to remove the hold the hunters had on him.
THIS IS HALLOWEEN
WHERE IT IS ALWAYS HALLOWEEN (and sometimes exams)