Work Text:
Snips is dying. He knows this.
Not in his cool, awesome, totally-dead-but-actually-pretending kind of way, no, he’s actually bleeding out, choking on his own blood as he lays in a pool of the stuff.
Oddly enough, he isn’t scared. There’s a fuzzy feeling in his head as he reflects on what led to this moment.
There was a car, that’s what he’s sure of. He isn’t sure if the person inside even saw him crossing the road, chasing after some fallen leaves blowing in the wind.
Snips remembers the sound and feeling of his bones being crushed. It all feels so distant now. He’s tired.
So he closes his eyes, waiting for the infinite dream that awaits him.
.
..
...
..
.
And then he wakes up.
Snips opens his eyes.
He’s in the forest again, his own blood staining his fur. But he’s not hurting anymore, and he’s not dead , at least, as far as he knows.
His limbs ache, but he’s alive .
Snips finds himself going to the spot where he’s pretty sure he died. There’s still blood on the pavement.
One thought crosses his mind.
Am I... immortal?