Nothing To Do

***

{Inside The Projection}

Their little battlefield was finally still, thick with the stench of blood. Bodies of monsters littered the sand. Hundreds of them. The only sounds left were the labored breaths of the survivors and the occasional groan of the wounded.

Malik stared at that scene for a while, thinking, considering, contemplating, but then shook his head, let out a slow breath, and rolled his injured shoulder.

'...I better not.' 

Blood seeped from the claw marks, staining his dirty white shirt a dark red, warm, and sticky against his skin.

It looked pretty bad, though he could barely feel it... Not that Layla cared.

She was the first to rush onto the battlefield, like a wife running to her husband, hands hovering over his worst-looking injury.

"You're hurt!" 

He glanced down at his body and shrugged.

"It ain't a big deal. I've had worse."

Layla pouted.