Firefly Glen please don't leave me

Taking place directly after this thread.

Everything hurts; cliche to say, but he feels each of his muscles burn, the ache of bone and joints, the trickle of blood as it cascades from cheek and spine. His jaws agape, panting breath, tasting iron with each swallow as he swallows down in intervals.
His stride is uneven, he sways one way and then to the other to correct it—only to overstep with the lean of his bulk. Regardless, he comes to the silver form lain on the ground. Awake, yet his brain flashes visions of a crushed skull and twisted neck.
He reaches him. Pale gold eyes searching silver, he presses his forehead to Ghost’s.