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Short puffs of laboured breath. The crunch of dry leaves underneath his pounding feet as he swerved through the thick of the forest.
Yapping dogs and arrows buried into trees as they barely missed home in Bam's heart.
Keep running.
The thought gave him a boost as he urged his burning muscles to push past those limits begging for a breath. He can't stop, he won't stop. He didn't know what would happen if he faltered and the group snapping at his heels caught up with him.
Just a little more. Keep running.
He was tired. He can't remember when this chase began nor can he imagine when it will end. He wanted to fall flat unto the bed of reddish-brown and grey carpeting the forest floor and yield. He was tired of being on the run. Of being hunted down like he was an anomaly that needed to be locked up, and strapped onto a metal slab under the harsh glare of intrusive lights.
Bam wanted to give in to the aches and groans. The yells and blood-thirsty screams. Bam wanted to fall and curl up into himself.
I have to keep going. He firmly stated these words to himself, hanging on to each syllable like a lifeline keeping him afloat in a churning and hungry tempest gaping to swallow him whole.
His lungs are burning and his adrenaline is fading. Why are they so persistent? Bam cursed as he slid under the thick set of low-hanging branches narrowly avoiding a hit to the face. Fucking bloodhounds.
The uneasy stalemate between the prey and hunters kept up as Bam kept trying and failing to widen the gap between the two groups.
He felt exhausted. Where are you?
I don't think I can keep going.
That thought proved to be a grave misstep as Bam's footing missed its intended target. He tripped and reflexively raised his arms up to cover his face as he tumbled over the raised relief, sending up a flurry of leaves that he prayed acted as a smokescreen to distract the archers at least.
His descent stopped with a hard crash that knocked the wind out of his lungs as his back slammed into a hard surface.
He gritted his teeth against the pain as he struggled to his feet. I don't have time to dawdle. I need to keep going.
How do you even know if he'll come for you?
Sweat dripped down his cheeks reminiscent of salty tears that would have trailed the same path as Bam panted, leaning against the rock as he tested out his legs. Luckily nothing seemed to be broken and he could brave another period of running.
However, time hadn't stopped to accommodate his health check. The thunderous footfalls of heavy boots, the sharp slice of air as arrows were being drawn, the barely restrained snarls and growls.
Bam was surrounded.
The weight of defeat brought him to his knees. Bam felt like he was bound watching as hungry orange flames licked up fuel soaked wood, the inescapable heat rising and building bars around him that he couldn't break.
He was trapped under the scorching glares. Please.
Please. You promised.
I don't want to die like this.
"You won't."
It was like being doused in the waterfall of a clear spring. The chill seeped through his skin chasing the heat out and leaving him feeling refreshed. He could breathe.
Vaguely, distantly. Bam made out the shrieks of horror, the slash of a sword, the squelch of blood bursting free of their vessels. He heard the insults, slurs, curses, terrified shouts, begging. He heard it but didn't understand it.
All his mind was focused on was the releasing pressure of the icy air he was bathed in.
His vision darkened and his body swayed, falling by fatigue and gravity. He didn't make contact with the ground as he was caught by something.
Familiar. Firm. Safe. Cold.
So you did come after all...Aguero...
Bam fell into the dark ether.
He woke up to the gentle sound of crackling flames and the smell of sweetly spiced meat.
Shuffling around, he found that he was covered in a bearskin blanket and lying on something soft. His mind felt sluggish as he snuggled deeper into the soft material that was serving as his bed.
What snapped him back into reality were the soft taps that he picked up coming from the entrance. He turned away just as the steps approached dangerously closer.
His cheeks burned with something close to shame as he foolishly attempted to hide away under his blanket as discreetly as he could manage. His movements stopped in tandem with the other's footsteps.
I shouldn't have doubted him. Bam thought guilt settled in his throat like a bitter pill he couldn't manage to swallow.
He spoke first, breaking the expectant silence that his gaze had been pressing on Bam. "I'm sorry for coming late."
Bam had been expecting a reprimand, an affronted defence. The apology threw him into a flustered mess as he launched into a sitting position. "You shouldn't apologize!"
Bam watched Aguero's brilliant blues as they studied him. "I was late to come to aid you. You had even given up. You had been ready to die." His eyes hardened as he spat out the last word like it was a curse. Like the very idea of 'Bam' and 'die' being in the same sentence was a thought that repulsed him.
Bam wanted to deny it. He wanted to say that even at the edge he had held on to hope and waited with the expectation of rescue.
"I was so scared," but he couldn't lie to himself, much less Aguero who knew him better than he knew himself.
"I'm sorry for doubting you," Bam choked out. It was suddenly taxing to talk, the walls of his throat were constricted. "I was just so scared. I had kept running and running and running. I couldn't see where I was going. I didn't know if-"
Chilled palms reached up to caress his cheeks and the gentle swipe of a thumb flicked a tear away. When did I start crying?
"No one is going to take you away from me," Insistent fingers pressed on his skin as his head was tipped slightly backwards so his glistening gold eyes would lock with deep sapphires. "I made you that promise, Bam. I don't intend to break it."
"I know," Bam whispered, voice breathless under the intensity of Aguero's convicted look but even to his own ears, the belief is brittle.
"I'll just keep saving you until you can say it like you mean it. I won't lose you, Bam."