Later, he'll reflect on this fever-dream memory as much as he can, and see all the parts and pieces that he failed at. The wolf is Tim, his logical brain knows that, but the rest of him is all foggy stun and none of this can possibly be real, and he doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't say anything. Wynonna, if she's real too, could kill the boy. Later, he'll realise he might have helped caused another young man's death.
Fortunately, Kate says it from where she is, unseen, a million miles away — don't shoot, it's Tim, Wynonna don't shoot, it's Tim — the words play in loop in Edward's head as he gasps for breath, blinking hard against his own blurry eyes which don't work quite right. He's never been bitten by a wild animal before. It's one of his worst fears, after seeing what Tuunbaq was capable of; it's a fear that's lived in him for all this time. He realises he's shuddering uncontrollably and he doesn't know if it's from pain or that fear. He tries to pay attention, watching as Wynonna drags the wolf back, but there's a sudden overwhelming wave of fear for her as she nears the beast with its bloody dripping mouth and dagger teeth.
Cries and protests and horror claw at the inside of his mind and break out, infiltrating those around him. He doesn't even know this, can't control it, but then the beast is running off. He can't tell if it's truly gone, can't see that far from where he half-sits up. Suddenly— Wynonna's there in front of him, telling him what to do and he does it without a second thought, keeps his hand pressed to hot wet. (He's freshly fed what he needs, and he's still gaping for air like a newborn, like a baby bird with a wide-open mouth, mindlessly hungry, because it wasn't enough. He's still hungry.)
Wynonna getting near to him again leaves him dizzy and dumb, and the nails of his other hand scrape the wood beneath him. He could eat her alive.
What the hell happened?
What the hell happened? What's happening? Edward fluctuates between being lost and being grounded by specific words and concepts. She brings him back down to Earth again with that question, and with it comes another sweep of pure horror as he realises and then fights to see it clearly in the next beat. (It's real, it's real, no, it's a nightmare—)
Help, he's saying it in his mind, not explicitly meaning to broadcast it to her, but his gaping mouth can't quite find the words so they play out in his head instead, loud and crying. He doesn't realise they go right to Kate, too. Help me. Help her. Hurt her, I hurt her, I'm so hungry—
Then words are spilling from his mouth, or at least he thinks they are, rushing out in a shuddering spill. He's alarmed, desperate; Kate's been talking (screaming, pleading) so he knows she's not dead, but she's not okay and what if she's dying now, falling away? He can't reach her. He tries, body moving against all its blood, crying out with pain and ignoring it all in the same breath as one hand grabs for the nearest pew, trying to force himself up. He has to go to her. He has to help Kate.
"Is she all right? Kate— is she— is she all right?!"
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Fortunately, Kate says it from where she is, unseen, a million miles away — don't shoot, it's Tim, Wynonna don't shoot, it's Tim — the words play in loop in Edward's head as he gasps for breath, blinking hard against his own blurry eyes which don't work quite right. He's never been bitten by a wild animal before. It's one of his worst fears, after seeing what Tuunbaq was capable of; it's a fear that's lived in him for all this time. He realises he's shuddering uncontrollably and he doesn't know if it's from pain or that fear. He tries to pay attention, watching as Wynonna drags the wolf back, but there's a sudden overwhelming wave of fear for her as she nears the beast with its bloody dripping mouth and dagger teeth.
Cries and protests and horror claw at the inside of his mind and break out, infiltrating those around him. He doesn't even know this, can't control it, but then the beast is running off. He can't tell if it's truly gone, can't see that far from where he half-sits up. Suddenly— Wynonna's there in front of him, telling him what to do and he does it without a second thought, keeps his hand pressed to hot wet. (He's freshly fed what he needs, and he's still gaping for air like a newborn, like a baby bird with a wide-open mouth, mindlessly hungry, because it wasn't enough. He's still hungry.)
Wynonna getting near to him again leaves him dizzy and dumb, and the nails of his other hand scrape the wood beneath him. He could eat her alive.
What the hell happened?
What the hell happened? What's happening? Edward fluctuates between being lost and being grounded by specific words and concepts. She brings him back down to Earth again with that question, and with it comes another sweep of pure horror as he realises and then fights to see it clearly in the next beat. (It's real, it's real, no, it's a nightmare—)
Help, he's saying it in his mind, not explicitly meaning to broadcast it to her, but his gaping mouth can't quite find the words so they play out in his head instead, loud and crying. He doesn't realise they go right to Kate, too. Help me. Help her. Hurt her, I hurt her, I'm so hungry—
Then words are spilling from his mouth, or at least he thinks they are, rushing out in a shuddering spill. He's alarmed, desperate; Kate's been talking (screaming, pleading) so he knows she's not dead, but she's not okay and what if she's dying now, falling away? He can't reach her. He tries, body moving against all its blood, crying out with pain and ignoring it all in the same breath as one hand grabs for the nearest pew, trying to force himself up. He has to go to her. He has to help Kate.
"Is she all right? Kate— is she— is she all right?!"