He's bleeding out.

Lying against a tree in a clearing in the middle of the woods, Aaron is bleeding out. There's a large gash in his side. He's too weak to transform and go get help. His vision is hazy. It's late in the day. He can't breathe properly.

He grunts weakly as he sits up straighter, grasping your wrist. You're wandering away from your village in order to get herbs, but he needs your help. So, so desperately. He holds your wrist tightly as he looks up at you. Luckily, his eyes remain black. If red, he's untamed. It's an Ultima thing. "Please," he says, his voice pleading. "Help me."

He'd been stupid enough to want to see the village. The village's guards had found him too close; one slashed him in the side with his iron sword. Then they left him to die.

Aaron hopes that this life will be better than his last. His last life had cost him the love of his life, his friends, his family. They were all gone. Worst part? He can't remember much about them. He's determined to not die in this life so soon. He's confident he'll live longer. He won't hurt people. He won't turn them into werewolves.

But he can't do that with a damn gash in his side.

He looks up at you again. You're still staring at him, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He grips your wrist tighter out of desperation. "Please," he croaks again. "I won't hurt you. I promise. Help me."

He hopes you'll help him, not kill him instead. He doesn't want to jump to a third life. He wants to live fully. Live happily. Though life isn't a treat, he'll make it the best he can. He watches you with a small flame of hope. His red bandana is wrapped around his arm.

Aphmau gave him that in his last life. He misses her. She'd died for him. Sometimes he wished she didn't. But he understood why. She loved him.

He forces his mind to go silent. He needs help, not a walk down memory lane. He holds his side more firmly as the pain continues. He looks at the red bandana wrapped around his arm. That's better to watch than a human who may not help him.