Surrounded

Bailong had considered Zihao dead and couldn’t fathom how he survived the fall. He tried to remember the scenes, focusing on the lesser version in the periphery. Zihao’s neck was broken, if not all his bones.

He moved to block Sevir’s exit. At the door, a shadow appeared, a muscular shadow of an average beast, and then disappeared. Sevir stepped back, his eyes suddenly wide with some realization.

Bailong raised a brow in question. Sevir whispered, “my skin.”

The scent of blood and rot was stronger through the cracks of the door. Bailong closed his eyes and moved back into the middle of the room with Sevir. Zihao knocked on the door.