Donât touch it, itâs awful! Where are the lights in this rustb- Tho- what are you... Thatâs not very... prof...
âItâs alright,â Thomas tried to assure her, to assure himself, but the words came out garbled by damaged jaw and teeth. âIss a-igh,â he slurred instead.
He tried to lean up to kiss her, but hissed in pain and sank back to the cot as shattered bones and weakened muscles rebelled against the effort. Instead he tugged her closer. He wouldnât have been strong enough to pull her anywhere if she pulled away, or even if she didnât lean into his touch.
But his touch was what she was here for, and only needed the slightest encouragement to press herself against him.
Thomas snarled like a wild animal deprived of a meal as someone dragged the woman away from him.
He was still so hungry. It wasnât enough. It was never enough. Pain was supposed to go away when he fed but it didnât. He still felt like he was starving.
He lurched forward off the cot, trying to reach her, trying to devour every last bit of sustenance from her limp frame. Fresh agony shot through him but didnât stop him.
The man in the way wasnât moving so Thomas threw himself forward still snarling, unable to focus enough to even try to demand he get out of the way.
Rabid. Â Put it down.
It flashed through his mind without his permission and he hardly had time to hate himself for it before Thomas was charging him blindly. The charge lasted a scant couple of paces before Thomas staggered, Â his rage outpacing his bodyâs limits and he crumpled, Â forward momentum turning a murderous charge into an agonized slide. Â Harry winced, Â Thomasâ body was hardly more than an emaciated bruise and if he hit the floor, Harry wasnât sure heâd ever stand again. Â Harry dropped to catch him, Â trying to shield the most vicious of his injuries from the hard cabin floor. Â
Donât fight family, Â they know you too well. Â
He felt a sudden chill and then warmth as he lowered Thomas to the ground. When he looked down he saw red.  On his shirt,  and Thomas,â on the knife in Thomasâ hand. For a surreal moment Harry simply watched the blood pooling before his brain abruptly caught up with what the winter mantle was hiding from him. Â
Theyâll turn on you, Frog.  Even if it destroys them.  Itâs what they are.  Â
The old man was right.       Â
No.
NO. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
âDamn it, Thomas,â Â Harry hissed. The pain was creeping up through the mantle; muted and distant. Â He felt cold fire flood his limbs , Â supplementing their sudden weakness with something icy and sharp and foreign.Â
Thomas held the blade still, his whole body shaking with exertion, eyes flashing. Â Â
Never fight family...















