His hand was sweating in hers. Hers was shaking. He almost did not notice until she swayed unsteadily when he paused his mindless running.

Disgruntled, he turned towards her, trying to meet her white gaze despite the searing sun behind them momentarily blinding him. Her mouth was twisting downwards, slightly gaping, as she panted for breath. He wanted to growl in exasperation. No, they could not stop, they could never stop, they were always on their tail and they always knew where they were and they were going to die if they stopped and –

Nausea suddenly swept over him, and he heavily sat down, his head suddenly feeling ten times heavier than normal. Not that that in itself was unusual; his horns were always making his head feel heavier, weighing him down, dragging him down…

His traitorous stomach clenched, and he leaned to the side. Nothing. Nothing. Colossi above, when was the last time there was food? The thought made him heave once more, and he slumped to the side, shuddering.

He had not eaten. He had not slept. Through night and day, for what felt like years, he had been dragging this girl along through this wretched castle. This dark, haunted place, writhing with shadows at its corners and traps and elevators and – and – and –

He felt like crying. When was the last time he had cried? The day he had been taken? No, the night before that? Before even that? He was numb when they came to his little shelter on the outskirts of the village, numb when they swept him up, numb when they measured the length of his horns and deemed it time. Numb when they pulled him up onto the horse's back. Numb when he looked at their masked faces and false horns and they were mocking him, mocking him, mocking him.

Where was the girl? He lifted his head the tiniest bit from where he lay shuddering on his side – lying on his side always felt so strange. His horn propped his neck up uncomfortably. Why did this matter? It did not. Why was he thinking about this? Thoughts and questions flew through his head, hundreds and thousands of fears and he started to silently panic. Where did the girl go? His silver gaze darted around wildly, and he spotted a hulking figure, a black, snarling, dripping and gurgling figure, and he tried to cry out for the girl but he could not. He was not strong enough. No strength. No more.

He spotted her. She was by a tree in a small patch of grass. She was looking at him. Unblinking. Unmoving. Unaware. He weakly croaked; it was more of a whisper, really. "Behind you. Please, behind you."

She continued to stare at him, her brows just the slightest bit furrowed on her ethereal face, not noticing the Shadow behind her crawling and growling, it was growling so loud, too loud, painfully loud, how did she not hear it, it was behind her and rising up and swallowing her up and she was gone, gone, gone –

She was not gone. She was still sitting there despite the Shadow yowling and tearing into her and eating her alive, advancing on him next, he was going to be next, he just knew it. Or was he just delusional? That could be it. Maybe. Maybe. She seemed worried now. She stood up, walking out of the bowels of the hideous beast. He tried to clamber to his feet, but then it went dark and there was nothing. Nothing. Empty.

The emptiness was welcome, actually.

But he was dragged back moments later, and… he was moving. He blearily cracked his silver eyes open. The girl's glowing white skin was blinding. Was she carrying him? No, no, that was not possible, and not just because of how delicate and fragile she was. His neck kept craning; his horns were buzzing with dull pain. They were catching on the rocks? Now the grass? The mud and grass was cool underneath him; he had forgotten that it had rained recently. He let his eyes shut again, wishing that he could just stay awake so they could keep moving, they could get out, they were going to get through the gates and run back into the forest where he grew up and he was going to live, they were going to live.

The girl clearly had no intentions of continuing their journey, however. She continued to drag him slowly but steadily over to the shade underneath the tree, and in an instant coolness washed over his overheated, overtired, overworked, and injured body. She laid him there gently, gracefully, tenderly, as her movements in general tended to be. The air was not quite as suffocating underneath the tree; compared to the dull silence of the interior of the castle, it hummed with life. It was rather nice, actually. His desperation to trudge on through the labyrinth of madness was slowly beginning to dissolve. A rustle of fabric and a soft thump announced the fact that the girl had sat down next to him. He tried to open his eyes, but found that even that movement was far too much effort. He resigned himself to his fate and waited for sleep.

Sleep would not come. There was no way it would, not with all the worries and anxieties and memories racing through his horned skull. He gave a silent sigh. There was too much. Too many things to consider. The girl. The Shadows. The traps, cliffs, puzzles, and never-ending corridors. The queen. He shivered, and not from the cold. Was she always watching? She seemed to know about the gate; then again, that was a massive gate leading to the outside world. But could she see them here now? Would she wait until he was asleep to send the Shadows? Would she snatch the girl out from right under his nose, or would she do it right now while he was too exhausted and broken? He could not even open his eyes: would she strike now? Would she –

He felt his hair shift. The girl was slowly running her fingers through his hair. He was stunned. What was she doing? She should not let her hands stray anywhere near his head: he was bearing Dormin's curse, for the love of the Colossi. The feeling of discomfort and insecurity quickly flared into anger and a proud defensiveness when he felt a finger graze against the base of his right horn. His shoulders went rigid; his teeth bared; his hands clenched into tight fists.

He hissed out between ground teeth. "What're you… doing?"

She did not respond. Frankly, he did not expect her too. Instead, her hand halted its movements, and he relaxed, only to tense right back up as she started all over again. This time, thankfully, she did not touch the bony protrusions, and… hm. This did not feel so bad, actually. It was comforting. No one had ever done this to him, not even his mother or father. They seemed to pretend he did not exist, but that was beside the point. This girl, whom he had only known for about a day or two, was allowing herself to commit to this oddly calming act, and to an emissary of the First Shadow himself. It was… unheard of. But he was not ungrateful.

She was talking now. Murmuring, really; it was quite faint, but still audible. His shoulders were loosening, as were his tightened hands, as she hushed him softly in a language he could not even begin to fathom. The idea of sleep was tantalizingly tempting, and now he was beginning to see that it was possible. Before succumbing, he promised himself that it was going to be only a little nap… only just a little while. Just a tiny bit.

He fell asleep moments later.

The girl sighed.

"Ico. Nonomari."

Oh, I forgot to mention I'm a fan of Team ICO, didn't I? Oh well. Now you know.

Ico and Yorda/pretty much anything mentioned in this story (c) Team ICO