Pain

 We went down at almost the same time.

     I barely felt the ground beneath me; I was scrambling towards him before I could think. His wings were curled stiffly around him, tensed in pain. I could see him struggling; his teeth clenched so he couldn't even say one of his ever-present quips. The tears slowly welled at his eyes, squeezed out by his pained expression. Blood ran down his face, much faster than the strained tears, from a gash in his head. His left horn was cracked painfully near the base, and I cringed to imagine the pain even a simple turn of the head would bring to him. But that wasn't the worst of it.

     His soft belly was torn apart, hanging open like a horrific cavern. Though his wings instinctively covered the wound, it provided little protection. Pyre looked like a carcass, and I could see it in his eyes when he opened them. Death was already here. He managed to open his mouth, looking into my soul, it seemed, and my heart wrenched at seeing him like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His chest heaved with labored breaths as he tried to choke out words, causing waves of blood to pour from the cavity that was once his chest.

     I shook my head. "Pyre..." My voice was hoarse and pained; I felt the blood gurgle in my own throat, and a trickle of reddened saliva exited my mouth.

     He stared at me, his wordless mouth moving weakly, until it wasn’t moving any longer. His eyes were still on me, and I could swear I saw their color fade as the fire left him. 

     "Pyre..."

     I realized I was still frozen in my half-crouch, my own blood creating a puddle in the dirt. In desperation I dragged myself to him, but even as I tried to stem the bleeding I knew his heart had stopped. My talons were covered in blood now; his and mine, dead and dying. My panting turned into sobs, choking words, a jumble of rabid sounds. I was crying and talking at the same time, and I didn't know what I was saying but I kept saying it. All around us the chaos roared; there were more dragons here together than I had ever seen in my life, even at Windswept, and I shuddered at the realization that this was what my father had experienced every day. I don’t blame him for fleeing anymore.

     My shattered mumbles turned into a roar that came from my very heart, snarling and rising above the screams of the fighting, though my pain dragged me down to the earth. In a moment I felt Moss's presence beside me; he stood solemnly, his shimmering green scales unmarred except for the blood of the wounded. 

     "You should have helped him," I snarled, tears mingling with blood mingling with saliva and causing me to choke again.

     He didn't respond right away. "I couldn't have done anything." He seemed so calm, so unaffected. Why did he not care?

     "With all of your studies and all of your magic, you couldn't have done anything?! It's your calling!" I screamed at him, though the snarls around me drowned it out. 

     It was then that I saw the tears glistening in his eyes. "...No one can fix someone that broken."

     He stood, an emerald statue, as I collapsed on him and pressed my face into his chest, digging my claws into the ground, trying to cry but finding more growls and snarls than sobs. The earth was muddy with blood, and the world around us stormed with feral malice. Here, with Pyre, it was like the eye of a storm, silent and still and horrible.

     "I should have protected him. I should have killed them. I should have... I should have..." My words failed me, like I had failed him.

     I felt Moss's heartbeat under his scales. A beat that I would never feel in Pyre again.

     "I should have prevented this. It’s my fault. It's because of my stupid decision he's dead."

     Moss shook his head slowly, his eyes not leaving Pyre's bloodied face. "No one could have foreseen this." 

     "He was so young. He shouldn't have died. He was just a child..." My blood tasted like metal in my mouth. The words tasted like guilt and fire.

     Moss said nothing.

     It was surreal to see the constantly-energetic dragon lying still on the ground, to see such a powerful creature torn apart like a piece of prey. It was too strange. My mind rejected it, making my head ache. My stomach rejected it too, I realized, as it heaved violently and sent me hacking up blood again. Pain fizzed at my nerves but it seemed like nothing but background noise, like the battle raging around me.

     Moss turned to me in alarm. "You're hurt too,"

     I shook my head weakly, ignoring the river of blood that cascaded down my side. "Not badly." I would never see his claws cracking with sparks, or see the fire whirl around him as he flared with excitement. His smile would never light his face again, and every conversation would seem empty without Pyre's ever-present supply of witty comments and sarcastic interruptions.

     "That's a lie. Let me fix it."

     I drew myself away from him, still staring at Pyre.

     "Let. Me. Fix. It." Moss's voice was hard, sharp, and... shaking. Startled, I looked back at him, eyes wide. "I can help here. Please let me. You're going to die."

     The words fell out of my mouth numbly. "I don't care."