Heavy eyelids struggled to open, burdened by the weight of exhaustion that permeated Seth's entire body.
He lifted his head slowly, which had been hanging limply forward, until it hit softly against the wall he was leaning against. His vision was a mess of blending colours and vague, blobby shapes that stubbornly refused to come into focus.
Part of him wanted to gasp for air, like a drowning made that finally broke the surface of the water, but the best that he could manage was a crackling wheeze before he hacked up another lungful of blood.
He closed his eyes for just a few more seconds, letting out a low groan, before opening them again and making another attempt at figuring out his surroundings. His mind was hazy, struggling to remember what had happened. Even basic thoughts were becoming hard to keep a hold of, slipping through his grasp like sand, and all he wanted to do was curl up next to a fire. He was just so cold. Why was he so horrifically cold?
