The quiet wind swirls around me, brushing the tags of my headband against cold skin. I pull my brother closer, hoping to keep him warm, wishing that we had been prepared for an attack.

My dark eyes rise, drifting to where the body lies, inches from our feet.

My brother had been unprepared when the sword slipped through him. The holder of that sword had been dead before my brother touched the ground, courtesy of a broken neck. The other cowards fled when their comrade fell.

I cradle my brother closer. My hands haven't left the wound since I caught him. I had desperately tried to staunch the blood flow; now less blood flows from him, and I can only hope that is a good sign.

"Donnie, wake up bro, wake up..."

He doesn't respond. I'm not even sure if I expected him to.

My leg hurts. I think it's broken. The only reason it bothers me just now is because it means I can't take my brother home to safety.

We have to wait on the cavalry arriving.

I rock him gently. My hand presses tighter over his wound.

"Donnie, wake up..."

He's going to be okay, he's going to be alright.

He's my brother, they always live through anything.

He's going to be okay, he's going to be alright.

A soft noise of to my right catches my attention. It's just a cat. I click my tongue trying to tempt it nearer. It shoots a look at me that speaks volumes. I stop my clicking, and watch as it bounds away.

I return my attention to my brother. I can't bring myself to search for a pulse. Besides, I know he's still here. He has to be still here. He once told me that he'd never leave me, that if I ever needed him he would be with me.

I need him now.

More than ever, I need him now.

The wind picks up again, driving at the back of my neck. I use my body to shield that of my brothers as best I can from the cold.

I run my hand down his cheek, bringing my head down to rest on his, forehead to forehead. Just like when we were little.

We were invincible when we were little.

How come everything gets harder when you are older?

The cold is nipping at my legs. I try to shoo it away. It ignores me. Just like my brothers do sometimes. But not this brother, not Donnie.

Everyone thinks he just hides in his lab all day, but I know better. Most of the time I'm in there with him. If someone gets ill or hurt, I should be second to Don in knowing how to help them, because Don taught me what to do.

But he didn't teach me this.

He didn't teach me what to do when you're holding your brother who has been run through with a sword.

He didn't teach me how to run for help with a broken leg.

He didn't teach me how to bring someone back to life.

I can feel the tears beginning to flow. A drop floats down from my eye to land on his sticky plastron. I use my thumb to gently massage it, letting it mingle with his blood.

Together.

My tear and his blood.

Eternally.

Forever.

I can hear the screeching of tires rounding a corner.

The knights in armour are my brothers.

Their horses are the battle shell.

But the cavalry has arrived too late.

--

All reviews are greatly appreciated! This is my only my second time trying a first person piece, while I normally prefer third person - so please let me know how I did!