Mike looked down at his injured friend; his jaw was clenched tightly. The sound of the man's laughter echoed through the trees around him.
Mike turned his head to Chad. "Help him," he breathed, then pulled his sword from its sheath. With a fierce look in his eyes, he dashed into the forest toward the man.
Chad bent down, pressing his hand to Drake's back lightly, who was still wheezing as he breathed. It was the only indication that he was alive. Chad's hand was shaking as he still held his new sword. For a moment, he blankly stared at the elegant blade, still feeling the calming, refreshing feeling. His eyes turned to Drake.
Thoughts raced through his mind. An epiphany of knowledge swirled in the depths of his thoughts.
As if instinct took over, he gently pressed the flat of his sword onto his friend's back, hoping it would help. At the same time, he slowly pulled the dagger out of Drake's back, being careful not to make the wound worse than it already was.
