I feel nothing. No cold, no warmth. Everything around me is silent, as if the world had stopped in a single moment.
But despite everything, my hand is still holding the bow.
Even as they wrap my chest with bandages, even as they pour some kind of liquid over my ruptured wounds, I haven't let go. I don't know why. Maybe because the feeling of it between my fingers is the only thing that makes me believe I'm still here, still alive.
My body is worn out. Every muscle screams, every nerve is about to explode, and yet... my right index finger is still pulled on the string, as if an enemy might appear at any moment, as if I'm about to release one last arrow, even if my heart shatters afterwards.
I closed my eyes.
And I wasn't asleep yet, nor awake. There is a place in between, and I... sink into it.
I sink, and sink...
Darkness.
The sound of my breathing vanished.
My heartbeat? Nothing.
