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Hurts. The plain and simple truth: it does hurt. And like Hell.
Painful. Yes, it's painful. But repeating the truth like this—how does it relieve your suffering?
"Hang on, just a bit longer."
Wind Archer Cookie hears the confident voice amidst the cool breeze of the winds, carrying the lives and futures of creatures of Earthbread. It's a voice that belongs to someone familiar, yet these words must be a version of them which he had once believed were for the better of Earthbread.
He doubts it now. Maybe what one needs is not complete dedication and commitment to a mission, but freedom to, well, be free. Maybe the injury has somehow spread to his brain. He shouldn't be thinking about this.
Trying to, he thinks, unable to ignore the searing pain that floods out of the large gash across his stomach. Brightly colored jam, far too dirty a substance for a sanctuary such as this, spills out from his wound and stains the soft fabrics covering the Wind Elemental's failing body—Failing, how? The wind has not stopped.
But—
It hurts so bad.
A part of him wonders if it is truly possible that he is not alone right now, but even if his senses are dulled by this...predicament, he should be able to feel the quick rush of air pass by when any intruder decides to wander into his place.
Then, a blur of green. Green? Like the trees? And trees...like those in the forest?
The forest. Right. How could Wind Archer Cookie, "protector of the forest," abandon his duty just as so? For a measly injury? He had sworn to cleanse the darkness from every corner of Earthbread, and yet...
...Why did he not pick himself up? His bow—surely, it is where he had dropped if just earlier. His quiver...is not on his back. Could it be that he has also left it behind somewhere, perhaps in the same spot as his bow? And he had been preparing to shoot the arrow when the attacker had jumped out of the clearing and slashed Wind Archer Cookie—a graze, barely, yet it spread like fire.
Fire. I...do wonder. Will Fire Spirit Cookie be returning any time soon? It is...difficult...to summon the strength...
His trail of thoughts is interrupted by the sudden pressure on his wound, heating up abnormally.
It—hurts. Painful. So—hurt...
Wearily, Wind Archer Cookie uses what remains of his energy to glance over at his side, where red mixes with the shadows of green and where a hint of smoke is emitted by the burning of the grass beneath the soles of this—unexpected Cookie.
"F...ire Spirit Cookie," Wind Archer Cookie croaks, calling out his friend—friend?—'s name with a weak whisper.
"Yeah—shut up, 'kay?" the other Elemental Cookie responds, his voice sounding unusually shaky for someone Wind Archer Cookie knows only as a cocky and arrogant Cookie, uncaring of other's problems, much less one of his fellow Guardians of Nature. "The jam's—gettin' everywhere. Ew! Agh. Gosh. Hey, no, stop moving! Gotta save your energy!"
You too, don't you?
The unbearable pain coupled with the burning heat of the Fire Elemental Cookie's touch makes Wind Archer Cookie want to hide away, to get as far away from this—uncontrollable variable that halts his mission to...
His mission.
He doesn't want to think about it.
How can he call himself a Guardian of Nature when he fails to complete such a simple task of protecting himself? How will he possibly be able to dispose of all the darkness on Earthbread—Earthbread, as a whole—when he can't even shoot straight? He'd had a bad feeling all throughout the entire day, having missed two out of five shots as he was practicing his archery this morning. He ended up leaving out of frustration—but what kind of "Guardian" lets their emotions get the better of them? And what kind of Guardian especially, fails to notice an enemy sneaking up behind them, not even bothering to hide lest he catch them?
To be caught during such a moment of weakness and failure... Truly, unworthy of this title. He must have been crazy thinking he could live up to his and everyone's expectations, if they even had any—but he's sure they do. They trust him; it's just that he isn't what they need. He's not enough.
What's an archer without his bow and arrow?
What is Wind Archer Cookie without his archery?
He has nothing more to his name.
"Ugh... Hey, I mean, don't just think you can crumble so easily like this every time! It's a Hell of a mess to clean up, and I'm a busy Cookie!" Fire Spirit Cookie exclaims, his ramblings going through one ear and out the next for Wind Archer Cookie.
For some reason, this enthusiasm is both infuriating and comforting in a way he is unable to explain. It does feel quite nice, being in the presence of someone he knows quite well, even if they don't understand each other's views all that well.
"M...be crumbling is...better...for..." Wind Archer Cookie is about to finish his statement, but when he thinks about it, it doesn't sound right at all.
Is Fire Spirit Cookie...right? Then? Even if he can't do his job right, who will possibly replace him? If he does not pick himself up now, won't he be even more to blame if this forest is drowned in the darkness, the cries of Cookies who are not yet "crumbling" and the agonizing screams of creatures whose only purpose is to serve the Darkness filling up this blank space alike?
Even so...
Even so, Wind Archer Cookie finds whatever strength left in his body to speak his final words of the night. Oh, but is it already nighttime?
"The others... tell...them," he mumbles, not looking or sounding very awake yet knowing what he is saying.
The wind keeps up like normal.
When Wind Spirit Cookie wakes up, he finds that he is in the same spot he left off on. The wound on his stomach is bandaged up, and although his body feels much lighter he can still imagine the feeling of the immense pain generated by that delicate blade.
"Whew, al-right! Nicely done, huh?" Fire Spirit Cookie boasts suddenly, his booming voice startling Wind Archer Cookie out of his mindspace.
It takes a moment for him to understand that Fire Spirit Cookie means to refer to the gauze over his stomach. Nicely done, indeed. It's a shame his body aches so.
"Yes, thank you. How much time has passed?" Wind Archer Cookie asks.
"What. Ha ha, I mean, who's counting?! Only thirty hours!"
"Exactly?" Wind Archer Cookie asks again, ignoring the small voice inside his head telling him that he shouldn't have slumbered at all.
"Huh? Who CARES? As I said, no one's counting!" Fire Spirit Cookie laughs, a haughty smirk on his face.
"'Who cares?'" Wind Archer Cookie repeats to himself, lost in his personal musings.
Who cares? Wind Archer Cookie definitely does. He looks at Fire Spirit Cookie, who seems not to care much for anything at all. Somehow, it feels like he still cares a little for some things. Wind Archer Cookie can't ignore the little emotions burning up inside him. For some reason, time passes by quicker when he's with Fire Spirit Cookie like this, even if it's rarely.
Someone carefree like this, Wind Archer Cookie thinks is admirable.
But when Fire Spirit Cookie takes a peek at Wind Archer Cookie, he doesn't seem like he's free of worries either.
"It's okay. I'm unharmed," Wind Archer Cookie finds himself saying, despite being unable to confirm Fire Spirit Cookie's true feelings right now.
"Yeah yeah, I know you'll be fine. Do you take me for a fretter Cookie? After all, it's MY handiwork that's saving YOUR dough from crumbling! Ha ha!"
Wind Archer Cookie smiles, just a little bit, not too much.
Fire Spirit Cookie's smirk softens. Just a little bit. Just enough.