All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Just a Flesh Wound
Word Count: 270
From outside the building the beasts howled furiously, throwing their bodies against the door and the wall in a concentrated effort to get to their prey. The steel doors rattled loudly but there was no indication they would be able to make it inside, and Katrina sagged into one of the musty office chairs with an exhausted sigh of relief, her head swimming from heat and exertion. She listened faintly to Ryder moving around the office, checking the barred windows and rattling the back door, until finally he returned to her side, dropping the backpack on the floor and crouching next to her.
“Let me see it,” he said, and when she just stared blankly at him, her brain too foggy to understand what he was asking, he gestured to her arm. “One of them got you. I need to see it.”
“It’s not serious.” The lie was a lame one, and they both knew it. Rather than ask again, though, he pried her fingers away from the wound and clasped her arm gently in his hands, examining the torn flesh. She stared at it as well, surprised at how deep the gouges were, and was about to comment on how oddly bloodless they were when, thanks to the pressure being relieved, bright streaks of blood appeared on the surface on the wound - slowly, at first, then with increasing speed until streams of hot fluid streaked down her arm and across Ryder’s hands. She moaned reflexively when she saw it, the sight of the blood making the injury seem that much worse, and covered her eyes with her free hand.
Word Count: 270
From outside the building the beasts howled furiously, throwing their bodies against the door and the wall in a concentrated effort to get to their prey. The steel doors rattled loudly but there was no indication they would be able to make it inside, and Katrina sagged into one of the musty office chairs with an exhausted sigh of relief, her head swimming from heat and exertion. She listened faintly to Ryder moving around the office, checking the barred windows and rattling the back door, until finally he returned to her side, dropping the backpack on the floor and crouching next to her.
“Let me see it,” he said, and when she just stared blankly at him, her brain too foggy to understand what he was asking, he gestured to her arm. “One of them got you. I need to see it.”
“It’s not serious.” The lie was a lame one, and they both knew it. Rather than ask again, though, he pried her fingers away from the wound and clasped her arm gently in his hands, examining the torn flesh. She stared at it as well, surprised at how deep the gouges were, and was about to comment on how oddly bloodless they were when, thanks to the pressure being relieved, bright streaks of blood appeared on the surface on the wound - slowly, at first, then with increasing speed until streams of hot fluid streaked down her arm and across Ryder’s hands. She moaned reflexively when she saw it, the sight of the blood making the injury seem that much worse, and covered her eyes with her free hand.