⚠ (from Dean)
Send me ⚠ to find my muse at the end of a trail of blood.
Colt’s feet dragged with every staggering step he took. His breath came heavily and painfully, sending a pang through his ribs with every inhale. He pressed a hand over a wound in his side, but blood still seeped through the gaps between his fingers, dripping on the ground and marking his path. The cut was deep. Not deep enough to hit anything vital, but the skinwalker who’d attacked him–dead now, thanks to his abilities; he’d managed to use his deadly touch on it before it ripped his throat out–had cut him deep enough that its claws had scraped across his bottom couple ribs on the left side. He was getting dizzy from pain and blood loss, and when his boot caught on a small rock it was enough to send him tumbling to the ground.
