Burning.

Bleeding, blinding light. It seeped through the comfortable dark cocoon I had created for myself. After realising that my eyes were opening of their own accord, I quickly bring my hands to cover my face, letting out a silent scream.

I curled up into a ball, wanting to rid myself of the world. Then the terror set in. The terror that the pain coming from my spine meant something irreversible had happened. 

I shot up on to my feet but lost my balance and clutched onto the closest thing to me, another human being. I instantly recoiled and apologised, still trying to regain my balance and stand on my two feet. I tried to check my wounds but slipped again into the stranger's arms, making him grunt at the force of the collision. This happened several times as I tried to stand on my own two feet.

I want to cry. I want to cry. I want to cry.

Where am I? What's going on? Where's the door?

Breathe.

"I would've given up after the fifth attempt." A male voice drawled. I looked up to the person holding me up, his lips thin. He look exhausted, with dark circles framing his eyes, eyes that would otherwise be bright. 

His shoulders were broad and were straining under the stress of my weight. It seemed he was also trying his hardest to straighten his back.

He shifted towards me showing his ripped, bloody shirt, probably covering an equally ripped and bloody torso and broad hips. My terror was partially overtaken by the shock of the state of him. After a cursory scanning of his body I was surprised he was even standing.

I need to get out of here. I need to stop the bleeding. His. Mine.

Breathe.

"Who are you?"

"Trapped, like you." He responded, the amusement in his voice rather thinly veiled.

"Would you like me to take a look at those for you?" No response.

I can't feel my left leg.

"How long have you been here? Is there anyone else here?" No response.

I can definitely feel my lower back.

"Why are we here? Do you know where we are? What's your name?" I rambled out at speed, placing a surprised and yet amused look on his face.

He reminded me of the Alpha as he did that, a pang of guilt surged through my body at the thought. No matter how much the man annoyed me, I hoped he wasn't badly injured. The acrid smell of wolfsbane wafted through my memory reminding me that those hopes were most likely incredibly optimistic.

"I'm not sure what you could do, but sure. I have been here quite a while longer than you. The other three have been taken to another cell. If I knew that I'm sure they would've killed me by now. Somewhere cold and shaded. And lastly, my name is Sol, Sol Winters." He spoke oddly softly and clearly. I believed it was to help me cope with the onslaught of information seeing as I was swaying with increasing dizziness. His  warm voice caused my drowsiness to intensify.

"Well, Sol, I wish we could've met under nicer circumstances. Now sit down and let me tend to your wounds, they look infected." I said with a small smile on my lips.

Although I genuinely wanted to help him, and alleviate what pain I could, I thought that by helping him, he would be more likely to tend to my injuries, too. Injuries that were becoming difficult to deal with.

That and I wanted to gain his trust. I didnt get a malicious vibe from him but I could tell he was on edge, understandably, and that equally made him a threat.

Sol did as I said and sat in the sunlight to let me look at his wounds. I winced audibly as I lifted his shirt and saw the pulsating gashes scattered on his chest and back. He chuckled lightly at my reaction but I could see that his injuries had already taken a toll on him. I assessed his wounds and worried as I looked around and saw nothing but stone walls.

How long had he been here?

"May I know the name of my nurse?" Sol asked after a few moments of silence, turning around to face me. I huffed at him, chiding him for moving and told him to stay still. He held his hands up in surrender but winced at the movement which earned him a sympathetic glare from me.

"Sorry! Sorry, Doctor!"

♪

♪

♪

"Eostre." I finally replied.

"Hmm, what?"

"My name." I said warily, "My name is Eostre." I gave him my middle name, a name not many knew as I didn't trust him. But really, I didn't have a clue what he could actually do with my real name, being stuck here with me, but by this point, with everything that had happened, it was just damage control.

"Eoooostree," He said, testing my name on his tongue. "I like it, it suits you, Eostre being the Druid Goddess of Spring and the Moon and all." He complimented.

I jolted slightly.

"I'm impressed, you know the derivation of my name. No-one I've met has recognised it. Is old German folklore and mythology a passion of yours?"

"Not really, probably from school, but it's just one of those things that I've always seemed to know. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I get that. Although, for me at least, those things aren't always so specific." I chuckle quietly. He nudges me softly with his shoulder.

"Well, that and the fact that I live in southern Germany. So, maybe I've just picked it up along the way."

"Germany?! Oh God, please don't tell me they've dragged me all the way to Germany." I whine, a sense of dread creeping in as I feel like I'm getting further and further away from anything familiar or safe.

"Believe me, Eostre, we could be in Fiji for all I know. The 10 foot stone walls make it kind of hard to tell..."

After the shock and paranoia subsided at the idea of being 3000 miles from home, I was surprised to notice very little accent in Sol's voice. If you weren't listening very hard, you wouldn't notice it at all.

I continue to analyse his cuts and come to the conclusion that I'm in way over my head but the most important thing was to dress it to prevent further septicaemia from setting in. I get up and look around, ignoring the burning I felt whenever I moved and travel towards the barred windows, placed at least a metre above my head.

"Sol, you said that it was often shaded here and cold, right?" I questioned.

"Yeah, the sun always comes through this window around 4 in the morning every day and comes through that window at about 3 in the afternoon until it sets. I mean, I'm guessing." He answered pointing to two parallel walls.

"Again, your guesses are very specific." I answer sceptically.

"My father loves camping. I hope I've at least picked up how to tell the time by the sun from those trips." There was a hint of bitterness behind his usually humour-filled tone.

"That must be east and that must be west then." I said pointing at the respective walls.

It wasn't much but we we're getting somewhere.

"Yeah, what of it, Eos-"

"Shh!" I interrupted. "Listen". As silence befell the cell, the faint sound of running water could be heard.

"We're by a lake or river. If we are still in Scotland then it could be a loch."

"Scotland?!"

"That's where I live."

"I could be in Scotland?! Seriously?" He asks to himself, running a hand through his hair.

"Or Fiji."

He gives me an unimpressed look but ignores the quip, focusing on the situation at hand.

"You're really perceptive, you know that right?" Sol said, his expression turning quizzical.

"More like I have a misplaced sense of determination." I said as a smile appeared on my lips.

My attention was ripped back to the dungeon when I felt a warm liquid coat my fingers and knuckles. Sol's blood.

Shit.

He needs proper medical attention. I'm going to have to do what I can to stop him bleeding.

It's cold, there is an abundance of water surrounding us, there are stone walls trapping us, and a cool breeze running through the room.

Suddenly, it clicked and I began running (more like flailing) to the edge of the room, collecting what I need from the cracks that connected the floor to the walls and whispered in joy as I moved to each corner, finding a surplus of what I needed.

"Right, I think I have what I need." I mumbled to myself.

"Do you need any help?" Sol said preparing to stand.

"No! Sit back down, I've got everything and you will rip your wounds even more if you move." I shouted.

I winced afterwards, chiding myself for being so loud and possibly alerting our captors to our movements. I then took a moment to wonder where our captors were, and why they hadn't surfaced yet.

I hadn't even thought of them as I tended to Sol's wounds. God, there was too much to think about. My head hurts.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me what on earth you were doing?" Sol breathed out amusedly.

I placed the contents of my hands and arms on the floor in front of him.

"Moss? You were jumping for joy about moss?"

"Sphagnum moss, to be precise, or Sphagnum Cymbifolium." I said triumphantly and a little out of breath. I lifted his shirt once again to judge his wounds and took a handful of moss and began to rub it into a paste. I did this with half of the moss, leaving the rest aside.

"What is it for and why does it make you so excited?"

"This moss has incredible medicinal properties and would be a perfect dressing for your wounds. It has been used as a cleaning tool and dressing for wounds for centuries. It will help clean your injuries and keep infection out." He still looked confused so, I sighed and continued, "Stone is surprisingly clean and is incredible at gathering moisture, thus how moss can grow there." I tentatively placed some of the paste on his gashes.

"That's incredible! How do you know this stuff, I wouldn't even know whe-, Ow, that stings."

"Oh, sorry, the stinging will stop eventually. At least you can feel it though, the wounds haven't gone too deep or affected anything too major. I would be worried if there was no stinging, your wounds are deep but not irreparable." I said placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place as I repeated my action on his many other wounds,
"And I am doing something similar to this at university in a few months time, so I made it my passion to learn about it ahead of time. It fascinates me anyway, I think its incredible how nature can heal."

"I can already feel a hum on my skin, is that the moss doing its thing?" He asked awe-struck and pleased at my knowledge of medicinal herbs and plants.

"Yeah, its phenomenal, isn't it?" I answered smiling, satisfied that I could have alleviated some of his pain and finally help him to begin healing.

It became quiet again and the crushing reality of my situation hit me like a freight train. Or a Boeing-747. Or a blue whale. Or something sufficiently fucking large it would kill you.

I'm so screwed.
♪

♪

♪

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

My heart was beating quite heavily now. The mixture of fear and; the heavy amount of screaming and slamming into the large wooden door in frustration in an attempt to open it (unsuccessful), jumping up to the windows to see outside (unsuccessful) and cursing the fates for my biblical bad luck (successful) had left me out of breath.

I was no into my 'dejected' stage of grief.

"For letting me place my ministrations on your wounds earlier."

"I'm still confused."

"Seems to be a natural state for you." I reply, chuckling.

"That's because you're utterly amusing." He quips back, although smiling.

"Trying to fix you distracted me from my own wounds, and the fact that I've just been abducted."

Oh dear, I'm not distracted anymore...

"Shouldn't I be the one thanking you?" He asked. "After all, why would I refuse help?"

"I'm a stranger, you've got no idea what my intentions are." I don't know why I'm trying to make myself seem dodgy. I think I've lost too much blood. It might be time to cash in that favour.

"I try not to think the worst of people. I'm a very trusting person." He pushed his chin out with pride.

"Oh please, I saw the way you flinched the first time I offered! You were distrusting of me, until you saw me limping around and suddenly, you were all for the treatment."

We were now sitting with our backs to what we concluded was the east wall and watched as the sun slowly disappeared from our window. I was confused as to why the sun was going down so early but was too enthralled in conversation to probe further. We had sat there for hours just talking about our lives and what we last remember before waking up here.

"I was walking out of my father's pack house after confronting him about the attacks on our home in Bavaria. I heard someone call my name and then everything went black."

"Is that everything you remember?"

"He's perfect for the job, even better than his brother would have been."

I turned to look at him head on, an incredulous expression on my dirty face, "Sorry, what?"

Should I add a large blow to the head to our long list of injuries?

He let out one short, hunourless laugh, "Something I heard them say as they dragged me in here."

"I have to say you seem awfully calm for an injured, kidnapped victim." It was something that had bothered me since he first spoke to me.

My own sense of dread and unutterable fear had been growing exponentially since I had woken up. I had this black pit in the centre of my body, twisting and eating it's way through my chest. It was beginning to be incredibly difficult not to cry. I was terrified about staying here any longer but I was too tired and too hurt to bother anymore.

He continued, "I was so ashamed for so long to call him my father because of his cruelty to the humans in Southern Germany, but when I heard that he was staying in our home in Bavaria and it was attacked, I had never felt so scared in my life. I flew over as quickly as I could and sorted through the rubble that was once the east wing, thankful that my father was in town that day." He told me truthfully. Maybe he was right, he does seem very trusting for someone in a probably hostage or trafficking situation.

"I had no idea you were a werewolf, it's odd that your wounds were not healing and I smelled no wolfs-bane." I pondered more to myself.

"I'm not a werewolf." He replied quickly and bluntly.

"The Lycan gene didn't pass to me, I didn't inherit it but my brother did which is why my father resents me so much." He said with so much sadness I couldn't help but whimper as if by feeling sorrow I could take on some of Sol's.

I also couldn't help the feeling of discomfort as he was opening up to me a complete stranger.

He continued, "My brother, Connor, died six years ago in a fire, he was the only Lycan heir to my pack and, for that, my father sometimes wishes I had died in place of Connor. I know he loves me and doesn't really wish me dead but I can see the disappointment in his eyes."

I didn't think it would be fair to add to his evident anguish by pointing out that it's almost impossible for a werewolf to not have a werewolf child. That seemed somewhat cruel to mention...

I scratched my nose as I felt an itch and with lightening fast reflexes Sol rubbed some dirt from my cheek and gave me a small, breath-taking smile to reassure me. When he saw that that did nothing but sadden me more, he placed an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer.

Okay, so he's a hugger as well.

Although his tactical nature should have caused me discomfort, I could feel his reassuring intentions. I needed the reassurance more than I cared to admit.

After a period of comforting silence he whispered something so quietly it could have been the wind.

"Thank you, Eostre."

"For what?"

"For showing me some compassion and for making me smile."

"You know, I would do it again." I said with sincerity, "but.." I trailed off.

"What is it?"

"Do you think you could take a look at my back and my legs? I'm getting kinda worried about them." My voice was quiet and I scolded myself for being weakened by this experience.

"Oh my God, of course!" He announced quickly, eyes widening in sympathy and I could imagine he was scolding himself, too, "I'm not as knowledgeable as you, but I'll do what I can."

As he analysed my back, which was apparently black and a horrid red from all the bruises and my left leg that had become itchy from the gash across my calf, I pointed out where and how to use the remaining moss. Soon, I was as patched up as I could be.

The increasing itchiness of my calf made me miss the numbness, but I was prevented from scratching the shit out of it by Sol's quiet voice.

"Do you think we can get out of here?" He asked with piqued curiosity.

"Yes, but we need to find the others and help them first. It would also be nice to know where we are. But leave that for tomorrow, as for tonight, just be glad that you're alive and that you're not alone." I said sighing into his side, resting my head on his shoulder.

Worrying can wait. Sleep is my priority.

"Sleep, little nymph, sleep." He said soothingly, stroking my hair. We both sat in silence for a while, contemplating everything and nothing. I felt his hand halt its movements and fall lazily at his side. I guess we were both very tired. Apparently his intimate nature didnt trump his body's need for sleep.

I was too tired to enquire but I wondered why he called me nymph. I felt sleep overwhelm my senses but I came to one last conclusion, Sol and I had known each other.

I asked in barely a whisper, not knowing whether he could hear, "Where did you come from, Ca-..." I trailed off, falling into a dark, contented sleep.