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Percival never thought of his end coming like this. Clutching the uniform at his side, he feels it dampening with hot liquid. There's still strength in his body, so he doesn't let this one chance slip away so easily.
He wants to live, he wants to come back to America, to wrap his big arms around the small, shaking figure of his mother and reassure her that it's over, he's here, he's okay; to see pride in his father's eyes and to shake firmly the big, warm hand that used to pat his small head just fifteen years ago. He wants to meet his friends again, to see the beautiful scenery that his room's window showed him every morning. He wants to feel the taste of freshly brewed coffee and his mother's apple pie she used to bake on weekends.
He wants to live.
All he wants is to get out of this damned battlefield, out of this damned war he doesn't belong to.
All he wants is to survive it and look back at these years, spent in utter pain of loss, despair and agony, as at an another page of his life.
Gritting his teeth, he steps further into the forest, looking over his shoulder from time to time to see if the enemies don't follow him.
Their attack was a failure in every sense of this word. Outnumbered and less armed, their small group of ten had no chance against their enemy. Mostly half of his comrades were dead when he made the decision of running away. Maybe it was the most cowardly act in his entire life, but he appreciated life way too much to lose it to his commander's stupidity. However, one of enemies' bullets found its target and Percival, with all the adrenaline pumping in his veins, noticed the wound only when he ran over a mile through the dense thickets.
When he noticed though, the pain came down on him as powerfully as a waterfall. Despite being small, the bullet wound was bleeding non-stop, and this could mean only one thing.
Percival clutches stronger at the damp material and takes some shaky steps, his breath shallow, looking around, taking in his surroundings. The sun is setting and there is no seen end of the green patch of grass, bushes and trees. Realization makes his lips part as a broken sob leaves them. His head is spinning and limbs feel numb.
Slumping against the nearest tree, Percival slides down to the ground and breathes in and out rhythmically to calm down his hammering heart. The wound in his side is still a painful reminder of his situation and he talks to himself, zoning out after another deep breath.
"It's okay. I just have to rest a bit and then I'll continue walking." Percival murmurs to no one in particular, his mind void of any things. "Just a little bit..." His head is very heavy all of a sudden, as well as his eyelids. He tries to keep them open, but eventually closes, dropping his head against the wood of the big tree. All he has to do is to rest and then he will continue fighting for everything, including his life.
Body feels light in the thick darkness he's currently in and the sense in limbs is slowly fading away. Alarmed, Percival tries to open his eyes, but soon realizes he doesn't have strength left to even keep breathing.
He doesn't want to die. Not here, not like this. Not now.
Consciousness is slipping away and Percival thinks it's over. He's gonna die: here, like this, now.
A gentle voice talks to him and it's soothing. Instead of cold darkness, he is engulfed with soft, warm light. Through his hazed state, Percival blindly reaches out, grabbing at something silky. He keeps squeezing the fabric in his palm with surprisingly more force than he thought himself being capable of.
Percival doesn't know how much time passes. When he opens his eyes again, the skies are dark, but the moon and the stars light up the night sky in an eerily beautiful way. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on something, anything and actually does, as his hand still is grasping something like his life depends on it.
He turns his head slowly and dark brown eyes meet sky blue ones, and despite the darkness around them, Percival can clearly see the brightness in those eyes, the soft-looking ginger curls and cheeks painted with infinite number of freckles, just like the stars on night sky. The air is stuck in his lungs, he can't make a sound, he can't move - he's frozen on spot, and utterly enchanted by the being in front of him.
The being with human face smiles at him softly, almost lovingly, and puts a hand over Percival's, which is gripping the robe the being is wearing and Percival feels like he's being electrocuted.
"How are you feeling?" It asks, eyes sparkling and changing shades, like the irises had their own life.
Percival opens his mouth and realizes he doesn't know what to answer. Is he okay? He was dying, that is the one thing he can be sure of. He swallows the lump in his throat, biting back a sob. I am okay, he wants to say, but the human mind is a such a twisted thing that it tends to play with you, so instead he asks
"Am I dead?"
The being's smile doesn't falter and it looks Percival in the eye.
"What makes you think so?" It asks, taking the warm hand away from Percival's and Percival finds himself wanting it back on his. It was soothing, it was safe. He felt safe in being's presence for some unknown reason. Instead of chasing the soft skin, dotted with freckles, Percival clenches his fist and looks away.
"Isn't that obvious?" A bitter chuckle. "Such beautiful people don't exist." Percival says and gets a puzzled look from the being. He sighs and tries to explain himself. What he's even doing?
"I mean, you're too otherworldly to be real, so I suppose you're just some forest spirit who got the bothersome work of getting me on the other side, or whatever." Percival explains gruffly, his bottom lip almost jutting out in a pout.
All he gets in response, however, is an understanding "Oh." and he's being lifted off ground and dragged along without even being asked. He looks at the spirit baffled, but doesn't stop or push him away. A little part of Percival is curious what the spirit is up to, so he goes along. Anyway, he's probably dreaming of all this, like a little gift from the forest before he goes into other worlds.
They pass by bushes and trees and flowers, all of these engulfed in soft moonlight. The forest, at night, wasn't creepy at all. Not dark and cold as Percival saw it many times prior. It is warm and welcoming, almost like home. Spirit's hand in his also feels warm and soft and Percival again, doesn't want to let go of it, but reluctantly does so when they stop in front of a lake.
The spirit squints into the dark waters which mirror the starry skies above and kneels down, his immaculate robe contrasting with the dark ground. Slim fingers touch the waters, dive and splash, disturbing the calm surface and making little waves. As if pulling invisible strings, the fingers move graciously in the dark waters and an infinite number of lights rise up and illuminate the night forest.
Percival watches utterly enchanted as the millions of little lights dance around them, circling and stilling randomly. The spirit gives him another soft smile, a hint of shyness in the way he shifts his gaze and avoids meeting Percival's eyes directly.
"You," he says, voice barely above a whisper "called me beautiful." there's a small blush dusting freckled cheeks and Percival suppresses the urge to rub at his eyes in disbelief, because holy shit, do spirits blush? Is that even possible? Though who knows, this isn't reality anyway. "Otherworldly even..."
Percival gulps but doesn't dare look away "Yes, I did."
Here's the moment when the spirit raises his gaze and their eyes meet. Genuine surprise is what Percival catches in those blue orbs before their owner's cheeks go completely red, hiding the numerous freckles.
"T-Thank you." The spirit stutters cutely and looks again at everything but Percival. "No one called me that before."
Percival just stares dumbly, not able to find a response. He wasn't flirting with a forest spirit a while ago, was he?
An awkward but comfortable silence settles between them after that. They sit in front of the lake and simply watch the beautiful scenery, hearing forest sounds from time to time. Percival finds himself peeking at the spirit, like a schoolboy peeks at his love interest. It's somewhat comic and tragic in this situation. He can't find an answer to the way he feels. As if he's enchanted, charmed, not able to think clearly and it weakens him. Percival lays down comfortably, catching a smile on spirit's lips.
"You should be tired." It says and gentleness can be sensed, dripping from that soft voice "Rest."
His body feels heavy again, all the tiredness of those things he endured that day washes over him like a rain and he feels like he's drifting again into the darkness, but now, it doesn't scare him, it's not cold and terrifying- it's completely the opposite. Percival feels at ease - it's warm, it's welcoming, it's soothing. He casts a last glance in those charming blue eyes, sees the cheeks dotted with freckles, the smile directed only at him and closes his eyes with contentment.
A noise wakes Percival up and for more than five minutes he can't comprehend what it is and where it comes from. Turns out he's still in the forest, in front of the same lake he fell asleep at the last night. His mind catches up with reality much slower than he should have liked and the throbbing pain in his skull does not help at all.
He stands up and winces at the pain in his body. But at least, he feels alive and that's already a good beginning. Percival looks around puzzled, as if searching for something. Pictures of a starry sky, blue eyes and freckled skin flood his mind and he gasps for air. He doesn't even realize when he stopped breathing. His pulse is loud in his ears, some weird kind of strength runs through his body.
He's not dead. Something, someone saved him. The possessor of those eyes, of that soft voice and that smile- oh, the smile.
Percival sets a steady, resolute pace as he makes his way through the morning forest. Somehow, he knows the path- his legs are doing the work as the mind keeps bringing images and sounds of the one Percival thought of as a forest spirit.
I didn't even ask for a name... Percival thinks frustrated.
He stops in front of a small house - that type of house people use in their fairy tales, the type where most probably lives a witch. Good or bad, Percival will have to find out. His knuckles touch the door's wooden surface in a polite, not demanding way and Percival waits. He doesn't know what to expect, so he keeps himself at a reasonable distance.
There are noises in the house: sounds of someone tripping and falling over something, barking, chirping, mewling and roaring. One of Percival's eyebrows raises up questioningly. The door flings open and Percival stares, baffled. Here, in the doorway, stands the same beauty he encountered last night, a small, apologetic smile to his lips.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry I had to leave you there alone, but I had to attend to my beasts, since it's time for breakfast-" The man trips over his words, trying to explain and for some reason, the image is so funny, Percival can't contain his laughter. He laughs with joy, the corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth and he realizes that he laughs for the first time in years.
The man stops and looks at him puzzled. "There's something on my face?"
There is indeed some dirt smeared on his right cheek, there are some feathers in his auburn curls and half of his shirt wasn't tucked properly in his trousers. But obviously, this isn't the reason Percival laughed. Instead of giving him a proper answer, Percival just smiles widely.
"Thank you." He sincerely whispers.