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The sudden loss of senses left Hunter on the ground in the midst of battle. The indistinguishable sounds of fighting vanished as his vision flashed a nauseating yellow. He thought, for half a second, that it might be better to stay like this, unfeeling, than return to the scene around him.
But just as quickly as his senses had gone, they returned with an overwhelming burst. He didn’t think about the way he hadn’t even felt himself fall, or the fact that his vision was still too blurry to see sharp edges. All that he felt as he gained control again was a sharp, agonizing pain in his arm. Tears pricked at his eyes uncontrollably, and he gripped the source of the pain, a glowing yellow sigil on his wrist. Veins of unnatural yellow light were just barely visible, seeping from the symbol.
Muffled words echoed in his ears. More tears slipped down his face, out of panic or pain, he didn’t know. But this was not the time to panic. He had to help his friends… draining spell or not.
Hunter reluctantly let go of his arm and summoned Flapjack, tuning into the battle just in time to teleport Gus away from the mutated claw swiping at him. He leaned against his staff, sweat beading his face. He didn’t register Gus’ pleas for him to stay back, or that the yellow veins were up to his elbow. His vision blurred again and before he knew it, the horrid face of his once-human uncle was plastered before him. The blurred edges of his face made him seem even more inhuman.
“Hunter, why are you hurting me? I only wanted to help you,” he- it said. The pain mixed with the sudden pit in his chest left him unable to speak. He clenched Flapjack harder and felt Gus’ hand on his shoulder.
Gus shouted, “you’re a liar, Belos! Stay away from him!” The grip on his shoulder tightened, and Hunter couldn’t tell if the sentiment made him feel better or more afraid. He didn’t have time to decide though, because a sudden vine wrapped around Belos’ neck. The face transformed back into the nightmare it had been before and the monster’s focus was no longer on Hunter. He prayed silent thanks to Willow, who had clearly been the source of the vine.
“Gus,” Hunter began, “you need to- ah!” He collapsed with a shout as the searing pain in his wrist burst with a new fire. The vines of yellow spread under his glove and shirt, and he could feel the pain reaching his shoulder. His thoughts became scattered as the pain overcame his mind. So much noise. Too much noise. Too much pain. He just wanted it to stop.
“Hunter! Hunter, are you okay?” An indistinguishable voice. Gus? Luz? He couldn’t tell. He wanted to reach his hand out to them but it was too busy gripping his other arm. Tears fell at an incedibile rate now. He hadn’t even realized his eyes were closed until the pain eased the smallest amount and he tried looking for the person. His eyes met Willows. How had Willow gotten to him so fast? How long had he been sitting, uselessly collapsed on the ground? “Hunter, we need to get you further away. Stay with me, okay?” Willow’s ask would be easy any other time, but not now. Now his pain overtook all other senses, and Hunter was grappling with his own body to stay aware.
He realized Willow was pulling him up with her hand around his torso too late for him to assist her in the process. He had let go of Flapjack (who then comfortingly flew to his left shoulder) to grasp Willow’s shoulder. The sounds of battle had all but faded from his ears, replaced by a constant ringing. Willow led him to a wall, his feet tripping over themselves as he stumbled to make the process easier.
-
“-ter? Please, say something,” Willow’s voice overpowered the ringing and he realized he was slumped against a wall, eyes previously closed. Willow knelt in front of him, tears gently slipped down her face. She held his right hand, which Hunter could only tell by seeing it in Willow’s hand. He mused at the funny feeling of numbness. He wished it spread to the rest of his arm, which was still painful enough to threaten his consciousness. “Hunter… please!” Oh right, Willow.
He looked her in the eyes and spoke so quietly he wasn’t sure she would be able to hear, “‘m st… still ‘ere.” The relieved smile that appeared made him feel happy for about two seconds. Before another wave of pain strikes his arm. With this wave, the pain spreads up his neck and he could practically feel the yellow vines that sharply crawled their way up his cheek. He yelled out, he knew he did, despite the fact that he couldn’t hear it.
-
The tears pouring from Willow’s face matched the ones he felt fall down his. This was it. The rumbling of the ground told him the fight was still going, yet the pain had not let up. Willow was by his side suddenly, her arm around his shoulders while he gripped his right arm, now entirely slack despite the constant pain.
His vision blurred a considerable amount and he could only make out colorful shapes. The shapes of his friends now stood around him, the green form of a mutated beast in front of him. His right side felt numb and he savored the warmth of Willow beside him. He leaned into it, only half aware of the way his head fell slack, half against her shoulder and half against the wall.
He saw something strange, as his vision turned white. A purple form appeared in front of them. He felt the dull sensation of being pulled away. The movement made him nauseous. The last feeling before he passed out in Willow’s arms was a final spike of pain that went through his whole body.
-
He awoke with a strange lightness. For the first few seconds of waking up, he didn’t remember anything. He felt nice. That is, until he opened his eyes to look around. Then the memories came flooding back. The fight. The spell. The… pain. The searing endless pain that he suddenly swore he could still feel. He didn’t notice the rest of his friends were standing beside him until he felt Willow grasp his arm. The arm that had previously bore yellow vines… and that was no longer in pain.
Breathing in slowly, he took another look at his surroundings. He was at the owl house, lying on the couch. His friends surrounded him, scars and cuts of their own, yet they each stared worriedly at him. The collector, he thought. They must have defeated him. They must have stopped the spell. But how?? Never mind that, he has to let his friends know he’s okay.
He went to speak but Willow’s voice stopped him, “it’s okay Hunter. We know you’re alright now. Just rest.” Her voice was so quiet and soothing. He realized after she spoke that his throat ached a bit and it would probably have taken too much effort to get out a good sentence. So he laid his head back down on the pillow, and reached for Willow’s hand. She waved her hand and the sweet scent of flowers flooded his senses. A makeshift bed was created next to him, and she laid down on it. She took his hand and their eyes met. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” A tear slipped down her face. All he could do was nod and hold tighter onto her hand, but it said everything it needed to. It said I believe you. It said I love you.