Prisitsky sat up slowly, wincing as pain rippled through his weakened body. His muscles felt like they had been wrung dry, but his mind—his mind was surging with adrenaline. His gaze locked onto the strange, tree-like creature circling the small figure standing before him.
Skyy.
Prisitsky didn't know him well, but that hardly mattered now. His focus was entirely on the creature—the impossible anomaly moving with eerie familiarity.
Slowly, he swung his legs over the edge of the cot, the cold floor shocking his bare feet. The moment he shifted, the creature stopped. Its wooden body tensed for a fraction of a second, its bark-textured head tilting toward him.
And then it met his gaze.
A tremor ran through Prisitsky's exhausted frame. That look. That recognition.
He inhaled sharply, his ribs protesting the movement. "This thing…"
He forced himself to kneel, his movements stiff but urgent. The creature didn't back away. If anything, it leaned in slightly, as if waiting.
