Young Writers Society

Kate clung to James as he ran. She couldn't process fast enough to gauge where they were going, how fast they were going, if they were going to fall over, anything, really. So she closed her eyes and focused on nothing. Nothing at all.

Because James's fresh wound was right there, and there was very little between her and the blood that soaked into the not-thick-enough cloth.

James kept moving, zig-zagging through the forest and moving as fast as he could. He was glad Kate was holding on because it gave him a little more confidence that she wouldn't fall out of his grasp. He was also thankful that she was rather light. She wasn't a very large person, which made things worlds easier for him.

He steadied his breathing and focused on navigating through the forest as he got further from the cabin. He could still hear the footsteps crashing through the forest behind him, but he knew he had to be too far away still for any weapons to reach him, because there were no gunshots, and there were no arrows. Still, he was mindful to remain a moving and unpredictable target.

It was a while before the sound of people pursuing him faded away, and even then James didn't stop running. His pace slowed a little, but he kept moving, knowing that just because he couldn't see or hear anyone didn't mean they still weren't coming.

He didn't know how much time passed before he finally slowed to a stop, but he pushed himself until he didn't think he could anymore. After carrying Kate in his arms and moving that fast for a good amount of time, he could feel it. With his arms stiff and aching now from being more or less in the same position for a while, he stopped and finally put her on the ground, picking a soft grassy spot to lay her down.

He forced himself back to his feet, still breathing hard after booking it through the forest.

Blood. Blood. She needed blood. At this rate, he might faint if he took too much, but he didn't know how much longer Kate could wait.

He waited for his breathing to slow before letting out a big sigh and bending over, putting his hands on his knees.

"Okay," he breathed. "I guess we've got to do this the emergency way," he said. "Except I... I don't - I don't have anything to put my blood in." At this rate, he didn't even know if Kate was listening or comprehending what he was saying. He hated what he was about to ask, but he honest to gods couldn't think of anything else.

"Can -" a deep breath, "-can you drink it straight from the vein?"

That, she understood.

She stared at him.

She couldn't think of anything more disgusting than that. The thought made her want to gag. Unfortunately, she had nothing to puke up. Because she was starving.

Against every nerve and standing hair on her body, she gave a slow, terrible nod.

James released a small, shuddering sigh and steeled his nerves. It wasn't so much the idea of blood that disturbed him - he'd seen plenty of things in his lifetime, and his own blood was a common thing to him - but having someone drink it... well, neither him nor Kate looked too happy about it. He just hoped that they could call it quits before she drank too much.

Thankfully, Kate had shown great restraint thus far. He hoped she would continue to do so.

James kneeled down beside her and patted his pockets. His knife. His knife. It was somewhere, and he always had it hidden on him, but his stupid drunken self would move it in his sleep or something. He didn't know at this point.

Ah. His boot. He should've guessed that.

He looked over to Kate, who was lying on the grass. There was a tree beside her head, and he carefully lifted up her upper body so she was leaning against it. He figured it would be easier to drink when elevated. And hopefully, less messy.

With Kate propped up, James unsheathed his knife and sat beside her, looking down at his wrist for a moment.

He'd thought he'd already collected enough things on his list of "strangest things he'd done in life," but the list kept growing.

With one last deep breath, he pricked the skin on his wrist lightly, pressing down just enough to draw a little blood. Naturally, a little bubbled up into a lot. He continually tried to ignore what it would feel like to have his blood literally drunk from his wrist and decided to think of it as just another type of blood loss. Which it was, really. He just wasn't going to think about how he was losing it, for his own sanity.

He lifted his wrist up to Kate's mouth.

There was nothing he could think of to say, so he just waited.

Gods, if Connery learned about this she'd never hear the end of it. He would be long dead and still tormenting her about this disgusting, stereotypical act.

She shoved that thought from her mind. It was this, or starve. Her choice.

She shifted, taking James's arm and holding it steady, trying not to hurl as it dawned on her what this was going to taste like, and closed her mouth around the wound.

The revolting, bitter taste of raw blood filled her mouth, and her throat tried to keep it from going down, but she forced it. Forced herself to drink, and drink, and...

James was looking a bit faint.

She pulled away, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and pressing it to the wound. She was still starving and, disgusting as it was, she knew she needed more than what she'd taken. But James needed that blood too.

When Kate pulled away, James was relieved, but also exhausted. He wasn't surprised that he felt tired and empty, but the extent to which his head was spinning felt a little dramatic. He'd lost blood before. Plenty of blood before, really. Though, perhaps, not this much all at once.

He ended up leaning on the tree beside her as she put pressure on his wrist to stop the bleeding.

His thoughts were fuzzy.

"Really hope no one catches up to us right now," he said weakly. "That would be some sick sort of irony."

She snickered. "I am never doing that bullshit again," she announced, thumping her head back against the tree. "Your blood is disgusting. Even my cook would know that, and he doesn't have a tongue."

She flexed her hand at her side as she talked, feeling the muscles come back to life. She most certainly wasn't at full strength right now - hell, she wasn't at half strength - but she knew that if someone did show up, she just might be able to do something about it.

James laughed half-heartedly, his eyes threatening to close. He stared out into the forest with his eyes half-open.

"You cook human blood? How does that even work?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's like asking how you cook any other ingredient. How would you answer if I asked you how cooking a carrot works?"

James closed his eyes. She had a point. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know if he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Fair enough. I guess I was just wondering more about where you normally find blood since it seems like you don't usually do this."

She scoffed, "What fucking year is it, anyway? It's some bullshit that you don't know about blood donors, blood banks. I mean, you have transfusions here, where the fuck are you getting the blood for that?"

James let out a small laugh - a breath through his nose, really.

"That kind of stuff is only for the rich, really. I don't think we call it all the same things, but there are people who donate blood. It's just nowhere near here, unfortunately."

He looked down at where she was holding his wrist.

"It's year 438. But you don't sound like you're from here, are you?"

She shook her head and focused on tying the makeshift bandage properly so she wouldn't have to hold the damn thing in place. "You heard of Neverland?"

James hummed. "No... what's it like?"

"It's a batshit insane island in the sky where the sanest people are the sirens who try to tear apart the hull of my ship every time I happen a little too close to Skull Rock." She rolled her eyes. "Not the brightest tourist destination."