Suri watched in bewilderment as a man she never saw before—clothes tattered, dirt smeared across his hands, hair and beard neglected—slid across the ground with the rain. The droplets running down his hollow face were tinged red. A bloodied and scraped hand reached out to her.

“Help,” he said, clearer this time. “Help me.”

“W-What?” Not the smartest response, but she really wasn’t sure what else to say. “I don’t know what to do. You’re hurt.”

He grimaced, emphasizing her point further.  His outstretched hand veered towards the nearest tree branch and he barely pulled himself to his knees before slipping down again. Suri reflexively moved to catch him, but he braced himself on the tree he fell into. 

“What’s your name?” she asked. “I can go get some help. Real help. A doctor or something.”

He laughed. Outright cackled. Shoulders shaking, hunched over in pain, he laughed like he heard the funniest joke in all the islands until a wet cough raked his thin body. She took another step forward as he staggered to the next tree over. Sturdy trees, the remnants of long deceased loved ones; not like the thin sapling shaking under the increasing rainfall behind her.

He was huffing out gasps of air now, like his lungs had forgotten to take in oxygen. There was another sound that Suri couldn’t place just beneath his strained breathing, something so familiar but so indescribably misplaced. 

“Can a doctor fix this?”  

He held his arm out again, upright this time. A series of thick, raised lines marred his forearm, covered only by the tatters in the torn sleeve of his coat. 

At first, Suri thought this was a trick. A doctor was exactly what someone with a carved arm needed, right? She had almost convinced herself this was all some sick prank when the realization struck her.

The sound she couldn’t place. It was the same sound butter made on a hot skillet. Or more like the sizzle that a boiled over pot of water made against a burner. 

Hot on cold. 

Wet on scorching heat. 

Rain on skin.

Steam wisped across his arm as the water kissed it and dried up with a soft hiss. She watched as it rose to join the other streams of smoke dancing from his crumpled form.

Confusion and disarray kept her feet fixed into the grass and mud beneath her as he finally pulled himself upright, but her muscles tensed as he took a step forward. A scorch mark in the shape of his hand stained the wood. Soft, violet light broke through the gray air as streaks webbed over his shoulders and neck.

It wasn’t until he spoke again that her eyes snapped towards his jagged face. 

“Take it away from me.”

He jolted with a quickness she didn’t expect, forcing her to reel away. She could have easily outrun him had it not been for the way her bag caught on the grasping branches of her father’s tree. The shoots snagged the fabric and she slipped on the grass, tangled in the strap hung across her shoulder.

When the man grabbed her ankle, she screamed and kicked back. It didn’t work. An uncomfortable heat stung her through her clothes, which were beginning to dry. She yanked at the bag—pleading with her father to let her go—and felt the strap give with a snap. Using the momentum the slack afforded her, she swung the bag at her assailant. It hit him with a deep thunk and loosened his grip. 

She was readying to hit him again when he shifted and grabbed her arm. Hard. Her puffer jacket didn’t fair as well as her jeans and socks did. The fabric melted almost immediately and made an offensive smell that burned tires would envy. Although she pulled away, the sleeve gave way, mimicking the man’s own tattered coat and creating a gap which allowed him to directly clutch her forearm.

Suri braced herself, expecting searing, blistering, and agony. Instead, she got cold and wet rain.

The man clinging to her went limp and collapsed to the ground. Water droplets from her hair fell down on his cheek with every puff of air she released. She looked for a sign of what to do next. When there wasn’t one, she knelt down to check if he was even alive.

Fingers trembling, she brushed the stubble on his neck to find a pulse. The moment her skin met his, she was struck with the most indescribable pain.