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Summary
His ears rang with the intensity of the foreign pain as his sight faded at the edges, narrowing his vision to a small tunnel of light in front of him. Whispers started to eat at the ringing, biting at the corners of it, swallowing it whole, until those incoherent whispers took over his every sense. He felt the prickles of their voices against his skin and in his teeth. He felt nauseous. He was going to throw up cow’s blood in front of all these humans from the intensity of the pain pushing out of his skull.
“Are you, uh, dying?” a voice said, cutting through the whispers like a knife.
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Walking away from the hand dug grave, Scott is pulled back to the start.