"Mirror Image"- skekGra/urGoh
When skekGra swims back to hazy, nauseated consciousness, his first and only thought is that he needs to find urGoh. He wobbles to his feet, ignoring the protests of the Drenchen healer fussing over him. The Resistance camp is small, a mere cluster of tents hidden among the trees, patrolled by gelfling who leap out of his way as he finally tears open the right one and all but falls into urGoh’s arms.
Arms, at least he still has three, at least he’s not-
“I’m sorry-” he gasps, clinging like his life depends on it. “I’m sorry, I messed up, I let my guard down, I let us get-”
UrGoh silences him with a gentle hand around his beak, and skekGra chokes back a sob. They had talked a thousand times about whether he should go into battle, whether he could be of any use, whether it was worth the risks. Was it? The garthim are gone, the Resistance safe another day. If it were only him, skekGra would say so in a heartbeat.
But it isn’t.
He runs his remaining hand down urGoh’s front right arm, gingerly cupping where it ends in a bandaged stump just above the elbow and shrinking under another wave of self-loathing. If he’d just moved a fraction sooner-
“It’s…..a little high…….for a hook…” urGoh muses, and skekGra laughs wetly, knowing it means urGoh holds no anger towards him. Whatever it takes , they had said, and damn it all, they meant it. They sat on the sidelines for long enough.
There is no talk of when- if- skekGra will fight again. Not tonight. They simply curl together, pressed close, tandem heartbeats reminding them that whatever might be missing, they are still alive for one more day.