To answer Agentcocacola's question, no, I have not made any plans to show what's going on back home. If enough do want to see what's going on back home, I can try and write something in, but what's going on back home was never planned to be included.

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing!


Marinette sat stiffly for the moment, just staring down at the still boy lying across the pit. He hadn't moved since she jerked away from him. He just, woke a little, stared at her for a few seconds, and went back to sleep.

Or fell back unconscious.

Licking her lips, Marinette glanced up at the opening, grimacing when she saw that the pit she was in was too deep to climb out. The pigeon feather slid off her head and brushed against her forearm as it fell, drawing her attention to it. Quickly stashing it in her bag, she turned her attention back to the sleeping boy.

Warily she poked at his calf. "Hey?" she called, wincing as her voice came out soft. She repeated it louder. The boy didn't respond.

Daringly, she crawled forward, easing herself over him as she shook his shoulder. "You ok?" she pressed.

His eyes fluttered but he didn't respond past that.

She pressed her hand against his neck, feeling his pulse beat a little too rapidly for comfort. She felt around his face, the skin feeling warm and smooth under her fingertips. He didn't feel feverish. His breathe was pretty even, if maybe a little heavy.

She jerked when he coughed under her, his body twitching. Marinette quickly gave him room, watching as he breathed hoarsely through cracked lips. He shivered despite being under the sun and dressed in black. She instinctively rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling his body tremble under her palm.

Running through all that she knew medically, Marinette shifted around so she was sitting along his back. She ran her hands up and down his body, feeling his clothes and checking how tight they were. Anything that felt tight she loosened enough to let him breathe easier. Firm muscles shivered under fingers, his body twitching a few times when she pressed. Shy apologies tumbled out of her, but she stayed focused on tasked. Breathing easier was more important than their embarrassment.

As his breathe evened out a little, a hoarse cough still racked his body. She leant over, blocking the sun's light as she watched his face. His eyes opened a little, unfocused. "Hey," she called, "you ok?"

His eyes slid over to her, blinking slowly like he couldn't quite see her. Sliding her bag, around, she pulled out her flask, dribbling a little bit of water on her fingers before smearing it on his face, hoping it was cool enough to rouse him. He sighed at the sensation, his whole body going lip as cool fingers traced his face.

"Better?" she asked, her other hand shaking his shoulder again.

Marinette jumped when he licked her fingers when they trailed close to his mouth, catching the little bit of moisture left.

Red faced, she quickly drew away; her fingers tingling.

That was... that was so...

Strange...

An idea clicking in her head, she set the flask down before helping him up, grunting a little at his weight. When he was settled against a wall, she brought the flask to his lips, letting the water splash on him. That seemed to wake him up. His shaking hands took it, and he tried to down the whole thing in one large gulp. Squeaking, Marinette pulled it away quickly as he coughed harshly. Falling forward, his head landed on her shoulder, breathing hard into her shirt.

"Slowly," she told him as he gasped. Warily, her hand settled into his slick hair, weaving through the strands soothingly. "You have to take it slowly."

He breathed deep, reaching for the flask once more with his trembling fingers, covering in black gloves with curious points on the end. She set the flask in his hand, letting him lean back against the wall and not letting go of the flask as she helped it up to his lips. He drank slower this time, but just as deeply. Marinette pulled it away after a few gulps, letting him breathe before allowing him to drink once more.

Her flask was nearly empty when he was done. He was still breathing deeply and was leaning heavily on her once again. She closed the flask, stashing it in her bag carefully, trying not to move too much. When she peeked up towards the sky, she saw it was orange, darkening with the setting sun. "We're ok," she uttered, feeling his body grow heavier. She reached up, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. "We'll be ok."

Her mysterious comrade responded by burying his face into her hair, body still trembling slightly. Marinette leant into him as the air started to cool and nip at her bare arms.

Her bed back home would have been much nicer.

At that thought, she reached into her bag again, drawing up the slightly wrinkled drawing Nathanael gave her.

She stared at it, taking in her parents smiling face. She traced their faces, running her fingers along their bodies. She started when the boy twitched, his hair tickling her neck when he moved. She set the drawing back, and pressed tightly up against that warm body as the night got colder.

Goodnight Maman, Papa.


"...iss?"

Marinette grimaced, sounding her annoyance at being disturbed. She was tired, aching, and just wanted to sleep. And her bed was moving. Why was the damn bed moving?

"Miss?" The voice reached again, a little clearer.

"Ive more minutes," she mumbled, pressing closer to the warmth. Barely registering it stiffening beside her.

"I-ok, I suppose so, uh, reasonable," came the jumbled, flustered reply. She sighed contently when something warm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her surrounded in heat. This was nice. Though, she sure her bed was usually far more comfortable than this. And didn't smell like soil, sweat, and leather. Wait. Did she go to bed last night? She, she didn't think so...

Marinette started, blinking sleepily at the wall of brown. She didn't have a brown wall.

Where... she sat up, surprising the warmth enough to shift away from her, instantly making her cold and wake her more. Marinette groaned, slumping against the wall.

That's right.

The wall.

She went over the wall. And followed the feather and, was, was in a pit... And the boy! She turned, blinking to see wide, curious green eyes staring back at her. He was awake with a little more color in his face and... were those cat ears sticking out of his head?

She's seen stranger, she decided.

And was too tired to be surprised.

Groaning at the reality, Marinette curled tightly around herself, smearing face against her knees as she tried to wake up. "You better?" she managed out.

She felt him jerk a little at her question. Awkwardly he answered, "Yes, much better."

"Good," she yawned, not quite willing to uncurl yet. She noticed the bag laying a little ways from her, remembering last night. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I think I'm about out of water." He was going to need more. To keep drinking.

"Why you—I should apologize!" he said quickly, jotting his gloved hands out. "I drank almost all of it! And it was yours!"

Unbothered, she shrugged and mumbled, "I gave it to you to drink."

"And I'm thankful," he promised, and looked away with a flush, bright against the black mask he wore, "but, you wouldn't have too if I wasn't such a mess. That was your water..."

"And you needed it," she brushed off, biting back another groan as she reached her arm out of her warm curl, dragging her bag to her and before leaning against it, sighing tiredly. She remembering yesterday made her exhausted. Sleep sounded good. Very good.

"Ah hey," the strange boy voiced, leaning over to eye her.

She hummed absently.

"Who are you?" he asked. "If you don't mind me knowing."

"Marinette," she uttered.

"Marinette," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He pressed, "How did the imps get you?"

She cracked one eye at him, frowning. "Imps?"

"Yes," he said, patting the walls. "Nasty little devils. They dig these pits, trap folk, and let them die slowly. I've been here for a few days. I think."

"Are you ok?" she asked, sitting up a little.

"Fine! Fine," he said quickly, adding under her stare, "maybe a little tired. Hungry. Still thirst- I don't want the last of your water!"

"You were dehydrated enough that you passed out," she told him, grimacing at her flask. "You need more-"

He reassured, "I'll get more! And you too, you need more water than that. And it's the least I can do-"

"Would you like some food?"

"Well yeah, I wou- No! I can't take your food too! That's your food!"

"Cookie or bread?" she asked, looking up at him and ignoring his bit.

He was red faced, biting his lip as he lightly scowled at her. Finally, he grudgingly answered, "I would like a cookie."

Cracking him a teasing smile, she pulled out a macaroon and handed it to him. He took it delicately from her, giving it a little sniff while she took out her own, munching away. She would have preferred a warm, creamy sweet coffee in the morning, but a cookie will do. Though she'll have to find something else since she couldn't live on bread and cookies. Licking her lips to catch any stray crumbs, she pulled the bag closer, checking the contents.

Everyone gave her a few items before Roger pushed her to the wall, items they thought would help her on the other side. She had two loafs stuffed into one bag. A sack of macaroons and chocolate chip cookies. There was a knife; she'll have to readjust her clothes to make it more accessible. A carry on sheath or something like that. The slightly scrunched up picture of her family she had hurriedly shoved into the bag. A pencil and what looked like a new journal. A box with medical supplies. And the near empty flask.

She looked up at the moan. The boy's eyes were closed, the cookie gone from his hands. Swallowing, he told her, "That was the bestest cookie I've ever had in my whole life."

"I got another if you want," she told him, glancing back up at the pit opening. How was she going to get out?

"I can't take more of your food!" he sputtered, red faced. Marinette blinked to see a tail made of leather, rising up and stiff with jags, sharing his distress. His stomach rumbled against him, much to his embarrassment. The tail dropped limp to the ground, the end curling in slight agitation.

"I don't mind," she eased, trying not to smile. "I also have some bread in here. That'd probably fill you up more."

He stared at her, frowning. Marinette stared back, not quite getting why she was receiving such an intense glare. "Don't you know who I am?" he asked slowly.

She didn't. She had no reason to since she wasn't from here. Should she?

No, she decided. He seemed far too sweet to be dangerous. "I don't," she told him honestly, taking out the knife and loaf. She sawed off two pieces, handing him one, nodding to his sheepish thanks, while she kept the other. She gazed up, nibbling at her slice. How to get out of here?

"Everyone calls me Chat," he voiced and Marinette nods absently. "Chat Noir," he clarified.

"Nice to meet you," she comments, not seeing his shocked expression.

"How, how did you get here?" he questioned. "If, if not through the imps..."

"I was following my feather out of a forest," she told him absently.

"Feather?"

She looked up at his surprised tone. He gaped at her, his brows raised skeptically. She pulled out the pigeon feather, confirming it's existence. "It lead me here," she went on, "and I kinda landed on you, sorry about that."

"No! No!" he eased, slowly adding, "It was, it was a stroke of good luck, for me. Which's rare." He looked up at her in a new light, his head tilting to the side as he considered her.

Marinette fidgeted as the silence dragged on, her feather safe in her bag once more, clearing her throat as she looked up. "So, any ideas on how to get out?" she asked him.

He blinked, looking up. He smiled. "I can get us out." His tail jerked up, whipping around excitedly.

"You can?"

"I can," he repeated. "It wouldn't be too hard. And you don't look heavy. And that's not too high."

Marinette raised a brow, staring at the walls. "That wall has to be... eight feet!"

"At least," he confirmed, "maybe ten." He laughed at her expression, reassuring her, "I can easily make it. And get you out." His eyes flickered to her bag. "And get you food and water."

"Speaking of water," she voiced, taking the flask out.

He immediately cut in before she could ask. "You have it."

"You sure? You probably need it more-"

"When was the last time you had a drink?" he shot.

She opened her mouth to reply, only to close it quickly. When was the last time she had water? Scowling at his intense stare, she grumbled, "Probably almost a day. But you-"

"Drink it," he ordered, crossing his arms stubbornly.

She tried again. "But you-"

"-Need water," he finished. "Even that little bit. I drank almost the whole thing! I am, mostly, good. Have it." At her frown, he states, "I'm not getting us out till you have it." To add to his point, his tail started to curl up and down, coy and patient.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Marinette humored Chat by downing what was left in the flask. She was a little surprised to find that she was parched. And that little morsel was gone to soon. Licking her lips to catch the moisture on her lips, she looked over at Chat to see him looking away, his fingers tapping his elbow as he waited, his tail flickering about. "Done," Marinette told him, shaking the empty flask for good measure.

He perked, eyeing it, the leather ears sticking out of his messy blonde hair standing up a little. Smiling, he stood quickly, and nearly toppled over in that instant. "Easy!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hands to help support him. The claws at the tips dug into her skin a little before he quickly eased that pressure.

"Sorry," he chuckled, blushing. "Haven't used my legs in a few days," he explained with a weak chuckle.

"You sure you can handle it?" she asked, standing up as well, using him to help pull her up. She noticed he was a good head taller than her.

He insisted he could, pouting. "Just grab your bag, make sure you have everything," he bid instead, starting to stretch a bit.

She did.

Both of them ready, he pulled her closer with a cheeky grin, resting his arm around her shoulders. "It'll be easier if you put your arms around me," he said. Eyeing him warily, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, becoming a little conscious of the body she pressed against. His other arm came around her waist, securing her. "Brace yourself," he warned. Marinette felt his body tense as he crouched, and leapt up out of the pit.

Their landing was a little less to be desired.

Their legs weren't ready for the ground and they toppled over, Chat landing on top of her and quickly drawing away. "Sorry!" he exclaimed taking her hands and pulling her up. Shakily, she steadied herself, looking over at the pit then to him, gaping.

"You jumped eight feet!" she exclaimed, her now free hands waving wildly.

"Actually ten," he bragged, puffing out his chest.

"H-how did you...?"

He beamed, very amused with her bafflement. "One of the perks of being Chat Noir! Now come My Lady! We shall find you food and water! And shelter!"

"You too," she reminded faintly, leaning over to look into the pit. She quickly drew away from it, following the wobbly Chat as he hummed a chirpy tune, his leather tail flickering about happily despite his stumbles.

He was glad to be up and about.

And out.


Marinette could not express how nice it was to see color again.

Everything was making her smile. There were flowers! The trees had leaves! And brown bark! And she saw a bird! A pretty cute bird that made Chat sneeze when it flew too close.

"Feathers," he told her with a grumble, rubbing his nose. "I'm allergic to feathers."

"The pigeon feather didn't bother you?" she asked. He waved her concern away. It wasn't close enough to bother him.

"I do find it strange," he voiced as they walked through the woods, a path slowly starting to form before them. "That it leads you to a pit."

"So that's not common?" she asked curiously. It was supposed to take her around?

"No, not really. A pigeon feather guides you when you are lost. Typically it leads you to your desire. Or what you need. Making it strange that it lead you to a pit."

"Quite," she agreed, glaring down at her bag.

"What did you ask of it?" he wondered, leaning over to eye her bag.

"Ah, a way out?" she guessed, waving to the thicker forest back there. That was the only thing she really wanted then. Just to get out. How guiding her to a pit was the solution, she didn't know. Chat had a cheeky grin on his face as he teasingly offered.

"Maybe it was guiding you to me."

Marinette stopped, peering up at him as she considered the prospect. Pigeon feathers guide the lost, to their desires or needs. Marinette rolled the information in her head. She didn't know about Chat in that pit. So when the feather dropped her in there, it wasn't him she desired. But it also lead to her needs... "Maybe," she agreed quietly, startling the dark boy.

"I was just joking," he said quickly.

"And you might be right," she insisted. At his frown, she continued, "You said it guides me what I desire or need. I didn't know you were down there, I can't desire what I don't know."

"You can," he said softly, looking away.

Marinette eyed him for a moment. She continued when he didn't elaborate. "Then perhaps you're what I need."

His leather cat ears twitched at that, and he turned his curious green eyes to her. "Whatever for?" he asked.

She shrugged. Out of the woods and to a town? Though, she supposed the feather could do that just as easily... so long as it didn't drop her down any more holes. But, there was one other thing she would need help with. And she didn't know if a feather really could help her.

"I'm looking for something," she told him, crossing her arms and jotting out her hip as she shifted her weight. She clarified, "Treasure."

He blinked and pointed to her bag. "Don't you already have it?" At her confused look, he said, "The feather? Nobles would pay quite a sum to get their hands on a pigeon feather. They're clever creatures, capable to always go where they desire and never getting lost. But they're skittish of people plucking their feathers out and usually avoid most people." He tilted his head, looking her up and down. "So, don't you already have a treasure?"

Marinette stared at him, frowning. Waving her hands around, she tried, "Not... the sort of treasure I'm looking for."

He hummed curiously. "Then what is? Phoenix tears? I know a lot of women desire phoenix tears. A siren's pearl? If so, be careful, sometimes they want more than just money. And you may not even end up with your purchase. Um... what is it your looking for again?"

She really, honestly didn't know. Probably not a siren's pearl or phoenix tears. She doubted Chloe would believe her if she told her that's the treasure she got. And a pigeon feather wouldn't please her at all. And Marinette preferred to get an item that wouldn't be dangerous to get. At all. "Something shiny," she said at last. "Like, jewelry. Or, or maybe a dress. Or a... tiara?" It would have to be something Chloe could wear. She would want to show it off to her peers.

Humming, Chat told her, "Unless you're planning to steal from an infamous fairy, or witch; what it sounds like you're looking for isn't treasure. Though I suppose a siren's pearl can count-"

"No siren's pearl," she cuts in, crossing her arms and forming an x. She adds, "No stealing from dangerous people. And beings?"

He quirked a brow. "This, this isn't for you; someone else?" he guessed.

"Yes, ah, you can say I'm in debt. I caused someone trouble, unintentionally, and the only way to make it up is to get her something. Something that no one else has."

"That can be a number of things," he said, tapping his chin. He guessed again, "A noble woman?"

"Yes."

He smiled, offering, "Maybe I can relieve you of your debt. Who's the noble? I'm a bit... famous among nobility. And I am in debt to you. Maybe I can break it."

"You wouldn't know her," she said.

Dramatically he gaped at her, claws resting on his chest. "You doubt me?" he asked, his voice a little high in his "hurt". It was the wrong move as he suddenly coughed, wincing as he rubbed his throat.

"Let's get you water," Marinette insisted worriedly.

"Yeah," he agreed hoarse, clearing his throat. Quickly he adds, "And you."

"And me," she agreed, taking his wrist and dragging him along while she looked out for a stream.


She learned that he had very sharp hearing.

While the two walked further along, suddenly he held her wrist and dragged her towards a stream. It was a little ways off the developing road they were on, and the water looked clear. Chat let her wrist go as he crouched by the bank, giving it a quick sniff before he cupped the water in his gloves and started to down it sloppily. Marinette crouched beside him, filling her flask. When it was full, she sat back and downed it.

She sighed in relief, leaning back and grinning at the vibrant blue sky above. It was a beautiful day.

She offered her flask to him. "Probably easier to drink," she explained when he shot her a look.

"You have no idea how hard it is to say no to you," he grumbled, accepting her flask as drinking the contents. A satisfied sigh escaped him. Refilling the flask, he downed another drink. Marinette cut two more slices bread for each of them.

Pouting as he accepted the food, he asked again, "So, who are you in debt too? I really may know them and can save you some trouble."

You don't, Marinette insisted silently, but decided to humor him. "Her name's Chloe Bourgeois." Besides, she reasoned, he couldn't do anything to her when she was over the wall. Did he even know about the wall? Ramier implied that very few knew of it. The chances of Chat knowing Chloe really were slim to none.

And like she suspected, he was puzzled. He didn't know that noble's name. No matter how many he mentally scrolled through, Bourgeois wouldn't be there.

"Is she a lesser noble?" he asked.

Marinette shrugged. She knew a few wealthy families, but the Bougeois' have always been the wealthiest. Though Kudbel could be wealthier. "I think so," she guessed.

He pouted, taking a slow sip from the flask as his tail flickered back and forth in stiff annoyance. Licking his lips, he grimly conceded. "You're right, I don't know them. But maybe I could still scare her out of this."

"How about you lead me to a town?" she offered. If he was so insistent to pay back his dues, this one could work. A town was bound to have something different from what Chloe was used too. And what wasn't treasure here, could be treasure back home. Something different that Chloe could show off. A close town may have that. She could be home as soon as she wished.

Only Chat didn't look too impressed with the idea of taking her to town as a way to pay her back. But it seems he wasn't able to think of anything as repayment so he agreed.

"There's one a few miles away," he said, leaning back and pointed. "We keep a good pace, we can get there midday, or well into the afternoon."

"I'm ready if you are," she bid, standing up and stretching. He echoed her, a coy grin on his face as he took her outstretched hand, dropped to a bow, and lightly kissed the top of her knuckles. Marinette blushed, surprised.

Straightening, his green eyes shining as he grinned, he purred, "As My Lady wishes!"


The sky was orange when Chat told her that they were nearly there. "Just down the hill!" She could see it. A small, quaint town, maybe just a little smaller than her old home; she found it charming and nostalgic.

It's only been a day, Marinette scolded silently. She could end up home tomorrow if she was able to find something.

As they slipped down towards town, Chat chatted animatedly, listing off all that he would do for her. Get her a room in the inn, food, more clothes, another bag; she was about ready to shush him with a cookie when he stiffened beside her.

Unnerved by his sudden silence, Marinette asked, "Chat? You ok?"

His green eyes were wide with uncertainty, maybe even fear? And the ears on top of his head swerving and jerking around. She heard a quick, "Sorry!" before he darted away, disappearing into the trees. "Chat?" she called after him, thoroughly confused. Her hands found back to her bag's strap, looking around herself for any danger.

She didn't see anything that would scare Chat. And earlier he did swear that he would see to her safety.

Or perhaps that was just a boast.

Grimacing at her nerves, she shot a glare at the trees before resuming her path towards town. At least he was able to lead her to town. She was almost at the foot of the hill when she heard it. Or them.

The thud of hooves. A sound she didn't hear too often, but was unmistakable. Instinct took over and Marinette hurried off the road, clutching her bag tightly as she leant as far away from it as she could. Chloe used to dash her steed through the streets, not stopping for anyone, and barely missing the unfortunate who didn't see her coming.

Three horses came from over the hill, with three armored knights seated on them. Heart pounding, Marinette walked on, keeping her back to them as she tried to make herself small, unnoticeable. The hooves grew closer and Marinette kept her easy walk. They'll pass soon, she chants in her head.

They have no interest for her.

She'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

She was almost there.

Almost home.

The last thought brought a wry smile to her lips, till the middle horse, a white carrying a blonde, was reeled to a stop. The other two bays followed, snorting and huffing. Marinette stopped too, heart pounding as the blonde turned his horse around, eyeing her with a dark frown. Marinette stared back, her grip on her bag tightened.

"Ye-yes?" she managed out as the rider drew his horse closer, the two easily casting a very dark shadow over her.

Cold blueish grey eyes glared down at her as the blonde demanded, "Why is the evil eye reacting to you?"

...What?