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Hope at last

As Snow laid there on the beach, his clothes tattered and torn, he heard a faint voice…a voice he knew… then something poked him sharply.  He could feel himself being dragged out of the water and pushed onto something solid.  Everything was coming and going.  He was weak, the hunger strong, but not even that could fight to make him move.  

He could faintly hear the voice, and finally recognized it was Stormy’s.

It felt an eternity as he was dragged off.  Finally, he was carried up some stairs then leaned up against something.  Everything was dark, he did not even have the strength to open his eyes.  Hunger, thirst, and weakness were in control as he felt someone picking him up.  A smell of someone he had not met, he could hear them talk, but the words were like static.

After a bit he heard more voices before feeling a new sting of pain, something was happening as his ears picked up the faint sound of something metallic landing in a metal dish.  They were removing the bullets.

Either he had been captured by the one who he was curious about, the one who had the clank that he always wearly watched and had spoken to him the day before his black out, or he was at a doctors.  He hoped it was a doctor…

His body was too weak to receive any form of anesthetics without being a high risk. He felt every instant of the bullets being ripped out of the wounds that had been covered in salt water for days.  As the last bullet was removed he finally felt his body starting to relax…starting to heal.  

He felt a new sting in his arm and something being injected as he groaned out trying to speak every once in awhile weakly.  They were talking over him again, and then the pain began all over again as the wounds on his back were being stitched closed.  When it was done he had to endure as they poured alcohol over all his wounds to sterilize them.

Finally, I can rest…he thought to himself as he had to stay on the operating table for a few hours till he was declared safe enough to move.  Before being wheeled into the resting room and placed into a soft bed on his left side as not to cause discomfort with his back or arm. A drip was hooked up to him to give him the water it needed as he slept, though his dreams were different now.  They were not nightmares of the dark hunter, but of the lil clank.  The one who he had signed the paper for, what if it came for him while he could not protect himself was what his nightmares were about.

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