Fall, Fall, Little Lamb
Title: Fall, Fall, Little Lamb
Author: kanella
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Word Count: 1,194
Rating: PG-13 (ish?)
Summary: Remus and Sirius make an unexpected discovery in the Forbidden Forest
Notes: blanketforts Days 2 (Prompt) and 3 (Prompt).
A/N (2/13/06): This has been lightly edited since its original posting.
Feedback is always appreciated :)
The sky is a clear blue, and the sun reflects back from the freshly fallen snow covering Hogwarts, setting the world alight with a preternatural glow.
Two boys make tracks in the powdery snow, their red and gold scarves dancing behind them as they run. The boy up ahead races into the Forbidden Forest, his shabby cloak flying as he jumps over tree roots; the other boy is close behind, pushing his black hair behind his ears and shielding his eyes from the rays of sunlight that peak through the cover of the tree branches. He has the advantage of long, graceful legs and lets out a whoop as he closes in on his friend.
“Remus, old chap,” he gasps, “you may be a fast little bugger, but you should know better than to race Sirius Black!”
Remus twists his head to the side and grins over his shoulder. It is when he faces forward again that he sees it.
A young lamb lies dead in a snow bank, its limbs slacken at its side, deep red blood smeared in its wool.
Remus loses his footing then and tumbles onto his knees, pressing his bare hands into the snow to break his fall. After a moment, Sirius approaches, his long strides shortening until he slows to a stop behind Remus. He bends down and puts a hand on Remus’s shoulder.
“Oi, mate, you alright?” he says, gulping in air.
Remus stares fixedly at the lamb and doesn’t move. Sirius follows his gaze, straightening his back and cocking his head to the side. He takes a few hesitant steps toward the snow bank and leans over the dead animal.
“Merlin,” he breathes. Sirius looks skyward, squinting his eyes. “Must have been an eagle or something.” Sirius pulls his cloak tighter around him and rearranges his scarf. “We should probably get back inside, yeah?”
“We can’t - we can’t just leave. It’s not…” his voice trails off, and when Sirius looks back at his friend, Remus’s brow is creased and his mouth is pressed together in a thin line. Sirius blinks.
“Wait here,” he says, and runs back toward the castle.
Still on his hands and knees, Remus moves toward the lamb. His hands are red and shaking with cold, but he brushes a bit of snow away from the animal's head - untouched, still a creamy white. The lamb’s dark eye is open, and it stares blankly at Remus. He traces it with a finger, moving his hand downwards around the lamb’s mouth and then over to rest on its neck. The neck is stained with red splotches, dark and crusted dryly on the wispy wool. Hesitantly, Remus runs his fingers over the stain, and they come away dry. The blood on the lamb’s belly still shines damply, though, and Remus can see the long incisions cutting deep into its insides. Remus hunches his back so he is hovering over the animal and leans his head downwards, bringing his face close to the wounds. The blood welled inside is dark and clotted. It smells sticky and very, very sweet. He pushes a few trembling fingers into a particularly large gash and blood pours out of the wound, running in thick lines down the side of the lamb, coming to rest in small pools in the surrounding snow. Remus jerks his arm away and rocks back onto his heels, holding his hand out and staring at it. It is stained dark red up to his knuckles, dotted with black clumps of coagulated blood. The smell is everywhere now - on the lamb, in the snow, on Remus’s hands. The air is stale and heavy, and it floods Remus’s nostrils and rushes into his lungs with each shallow breath.
Remus’s stomach turns, and his mouth fills with an acidic, metallic taste. He jumps up and stumbles a few steps, grabbing at a tree trunk before leaning over and retching into the snow. Remus’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he slowly turns and slides down the tree, his cloak snagging and pulling on the rough bark. His clean hand rises to wipe his mouth, the soiled one still held at a distance. A thin sheen of sweat settles on his face, and his cotton shirt is sticking to his skin underneath the cloak. Even his hands have warmed, and when Remus presses his sticky one into the snow to clean it off, the cold crystals thaw and turn to liquid around his fingers. He moves his hand a bit, and the blood slides off his skin. When he is done, all that remains are a few streaks that are stuck in the thin crevices of Remus’s skin, coloring his life line a deep scarlet. He hears rustling and stands, brushing snow off his trousers and straightening his cloak. He is on his third steadying breath when Sirius emerges from between two trees. He is clutching something large and white close to his chest; Sirius looks from the bloody snow at Remus’s feet to the boy’s ashen face and his brow furrows in a silent question.
“What is it?” Remus quickly asks, although his throat is dry and sore and it comes out as more of a croak.
“Hm? Oh, a sheet and blanket. Got them from the house elves.” After throwing the blanket over his shoulder, Sirius takes hold of one end of the sheet and passes the other to Remus. Sirius shakes his arms a bit and the sheet unfolds between the two boys. Sirius steps back and walks around the lamb so that they are holding the sheet over the animal like a canopy. Bending down, Sirius lays his end of the sheet on the ground, tucking it snugly around the lamb’s cold body, smoothing the edges with steady hands. Remus does the same for his end and sees a few spots of blood rise and soak into the white sheet, dotting it crimson. Sirius takes the ivory blanket from his shoulder and kneels down to drape it over the bundle on the ground. He rests his hand on the lamb’s covered body. The blanket is thick and sturdy for the frigid winters at Hogwarts, and no blood seeps through it. Sirius looks up at Remus.
“There,” Sirius says.
Remus chews at the inside of his cheek and frowns. His eyes dart around until his gaze falls on a single pink flower resting on the snow nearby. Remus steps over to scoop it up, cradling it in his hands. Its petals are soft and spotted with specks of ice; it has a bright yellow center and strong green leaves. Remus carries it over to the lamb and places it where he remembers one of the most violent gashes to be, just touching the edge of Sirius’s thumb. Remus nods.
“Okay,” he says, and Sirius stands to join him as they walk away, the snow crunching quietly under their feet.
And when Remus looks back through the trees from a distance, the lines between the blanket and the snow blur and run together until all Remus can see is a hazy mound of white, adorned by a delicate pink smear.
Author: kanella
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Word Count: 1,194
Rating: PG-13 (ish?)
Summary: Remus and Sirius make an unexpected discovery in the Forbidden Forest
Notes: blanketforts Days 2 (Prompt) and 3 (Prompt).
A/N (2/13/06): This has been lightly edited since its original posting.
Feedback is always appreciated :)
The sky is a clear blue, and the sun reflects back from the freshly fallen snow covering Hogwarts, setting the world alight with a preternatural glow.
Two boys make tracks in the powdery snow, their red and gold scarves dancing behind them as they run. The boy up ahead races into the Forbidden Forest, his shabby cloak flying as he jumps over tree roots; the other boy is close behind, pushing his black hair behind his ears and shielding his eyes from the rays of sunlight that peak through the cover of the tree branches. He has the advantage of long, graceful legs and lets out a whoop as he closes in on his friend.
“Remus, old chap,” he gasps, “you may be a fast little bugger, but you should know better than to race Sirius Black!”
Remus twists his head to the side and grins over his shoulder. It is when he faces forward again that he sees it.
A young lamb lies dead in a snow bank, its limbs slacken at its side, deep red blood smeared in its wool.
Remus loses his footing then and tumbles onto his knees, pressing his bare hands into the snow to break his fall. After a moment, Sirius approaches, his long strides shortening until he slows to a stop behind Remus. He bends down and puts a hand on Remus’s shoulder.
“Oi, mate, you alright?” he says, gulping in air.
Remus stares fixedly at the lamb and doesn’t move. Sirius follows his gaze, straightening his back and cocking his head to the side. He takes a few hesitant steps toward the snow bank and leans over the dead animal.
“Merlin,” he breathes. Sirius looks skyward, squinting his eyes. “Must have been an eagle or something.” Sirius pulls his cloak tighter around him and rearranges his scarf. “We should probably get back inside, yeah?”
“We can’t - we can’t just leave. It’s not…” his voice trails off, and when Sirius looks back at his friend, Remus’s brow is creased and his mouth is pressed together in a thin line. Sirius blinks.
“Wait here,” he says, and runs back toward the castle.
Still on his hands and knees, Remus moves toward the lamb. His hands are red and shaking with cold, but he brushes a bit of snow away from the animal's head - untouched, still a creamy white. The lamb’s dark eye is open, and it stares blankly at Remus. He traces it with a finger, moving his hand downwards around the lamb’s mouth and then over to rest on its neck. The neck is stained with red splotches, dark and crusted dryly on the wispy wool. Hesitantly, Remus runs his fingers over the stain, and they come away dry. The blood on the lamb’s belly still shines damply, though, and Remus can see the long incisions cutting deep into its insides. Remus hunches his back so he is hovering over the animal and leans his head downwards, bringing his face close to the wounds. The blood welled inside is dark and clotted. It smells sticky and very, very sweet. He pushes a few trembling fingers into a particularly large gash and blood pours out of the wound, running in thick lines down the side of the lamb, coming to rest in small pools in the surrounding snow. Remus jerks his arm away and rocks back onto his heels, holding his hand out and staring at it. It is stained dark red up to his knuckles, dotted with black clumps of coagulated blood. The smell is everywhere now - on the lamb, in the snow, on Remus’s hands. The air is stale and heavy, and it floods Remus’s nostrils and rushes into his lungs with each shallow breath.
Remus’s stomach turns, and his mouth fills with an acidic, metallic taste. He jumps up and stumbles a few steps, grabbing at a tree trunk before leaning over and retching into the snow. Remus’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he slowly turns and slides down the tree, his cloak snagging and pulling on the rough bark. His clean hand rises to wipe his mouth, the soiled one still held at a distance. A thin sheen of sweat settles on his face, and his cotton shirt is sticking to his skin underneath the cloak. Even his hands have warmed, and when Remus presses his sticky one into the snow to clean it off, the cold crystals thaw and turn to liquid around his fingers. He moves his hand a bit, and the blood slides off his skin. When he is done, all that remains are a few streaks that are stuck in the thin crevices of Remus’s skin, coloring his life line a deep scarlet. He hears rustling and stands, brushing snow off his trousers and straightening his cloak. He is on his third steadying breath when Sirius emerges from between two trees. He is clutching something large and white close to his chest; Sirius looks from the bloody snow at Remus’s feet to the boy’s ashen face and his brow furrows in a silent question.
“What is it?” Remus quickly asks, although his throat is dry and sore and it comes out as more of a croak.
“Hm? Oh, a sheet and blanket. Got them from the house elves.” After throwing the blanket over his shoulder, Sirius takes hold of one end of the sheet and passes the other to Remus. Sirius shakes his arms a bit and the sheet unfolds between the two boys. Sirius steps back and walks around the lamb so that they are holding the sheet over the animal like a canopy. Bending down, Sirius lays his end of the sheet on the ground, tucking it snugly around the lamb’s cold body, smoothing the edges with steady hands. Remus does the same for his end and sees a few spots of blood rise and soak into the white sheet, dotting it crimson. Sirius takes the ivory blanket from his shoulder and kneels down to drape it over the bundle on the ground. He rests his hand on the lamb’s covered body. The blanket is thick and sturdy for the frigid winters at Hogwarts, and no blood seeps through it. Sirius looks up at Remus.
“There,” Sirius says.
Remus chews at the inside of his cheek and frowns. His eyes dart around until his gaze falls on a single pink flower resting on the snow nearby. Remus steps over to scoop it up, cradling it in his hands. Its petals are soft and spotted with specks of ice; it has a bright yellow center and strong green leaves. Remus carries it over to the lamb and places it where he remembers one of the most violent gashes to be, just touching the edge of Sirius’s thumb. Remus nods.
“Okay,” he says, and Sirius stands to join him as they walk away, the snow crunching quietly under their feet.
And when Remus looks back through the trees from a distance, the lines between the blanket and the snow blur and run together until all Remus can see is a hazy mound of white, adorned by a delicate pink smear.