The ragged breathing of a boy slumped against the base of a gnarled oak filled the silent night. His vision blurred as he pressed a trembling hand to his side, where warm blood seeped through torn fabric. The wound burned, but not with the familiar sting of a fight—this was silver

In a state of uncertainty and nausea, he manages to lift himself up onto your window sill, his balance trembling as he lifts up the glass frame, collapsing onto your bedroom floor

Your attention immediately shifts to his motionless figure, your body moving on its own to check on him. For some unknown reason, an invisible pull kept you close together, he didn’t want to leave your side. Could you be mates?