The squelch of mud beneath her boots made Emma tense. If this was a fairy tale rainstorm it wasn't anywhere near a misty sprinkle that coated everything with a sparkling dew. The downpour had been sudden and heavy, continuing to shower downward violently. The water fell in sheets so thick that visibility wasn't much far past her own two feet. Darkness hung between the tree trunks and gloated eerily at her.
She shivered and put a hand to her forehead, cringing at the bite of her icy hand turning to see Mary Margret helping Aurora clamber over a moss covered rock and Mulan leap nimbly over a fallen tree trunk.
Judging by the glare that her mother gave her she knew they should stop and try to take cover. The way her clothes clung heavily to her back and the shaking in her hands told her she needed to stop. The water in her eyes and numbing her skin told her she needed to stop. The haunted expression on her face mirrored by her companions told her she needed to stop.
But in her drenched and thoroughly exhausted state, adrenaline almost kept her staggering upright, screaming through her veins that she needed to continue. He was hunting her, and she knew without a doubt he would find her.
She froze, whipping her head to the right when a slight touch brushed over her shoulder, brandishing Jack's sword. It was Mary Margret.
"Emma. Enough. Aurora needs a break." her mother frowned unconvincingly at her, rain making her eyes dark with worry, "This is the third day you've pushed forward like this— it's like you think we're being chased!"
She stared back blankly, the numbness converting the words into hollow syllables, "You guys can stop if you need. I'll go scout ahead."
Emma made to push past but a restraining hand was placed on her shoulder, "Can you please just hold on a minute? I want to know what's going on! We're trudging through the forest in the rain at a practical run and you can't even give us a reason why?"
The tones in Mary Margaret's voice dug into her short breath and forced Emma to turn. The rain slid down the petite woman's cheeks and neck in a sheen of false tears, the furrow in her brown shiny with water. She looked almost frightened.
"I'm fine. You should rest." she tried smiling but only managed a tired grimace.
"No. Emma you are not. I try to understand but you're hurting more than just yourself with this, Aurora is not as physically—"
"If you are so worried about your sleeping princess then go back and help her!" she snapped cruelly, immediately regretting the hurt that spread over Mary Margaret's expression as she released Emma's arm.
Her mother turned away and began walking, calling behind her shoulder steadily, "If this is something that happened between you and Hook, I'm here to listen. But don't take this out on me."
She watched her disappear as the rain parted a curtain for her to stalk away, and Emma sighed, leaning up against a tree trunk. She buried her face in her hands and cursed.
An apology would have to happen soon. Mary Margaret was doing so much for her already, and all she could give in return was snide retorts and exhausting all of them. But Emma was frustrated and tired, and what bothered her the most was the fact that it was completely self-inflicted.
She was being ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. Hook was not going to come and attack them, and even if he did, three of them were at least somewhat practiced in fighting. She felt slightly better, less harried and on edge. Her timid self-reassurances had no effect whatsoever however… on the guilt.
She left him behind while he begged her. Because she was too stubborn to trust. She really couldn't do anything right.
At first she thought the uneven splashes were just a heavier rainfall, but as they got closer and louder she realized they were footsteps. They sounded somewhat tentative.
"Hey. I'm sorry." she said, hoping Mary Margaret would accept the apology and lead her back to camp for a too-long-coming rest.
A warm body pressed up against her, for a moment ameliorating the chill, and then she smelled salt and rum and felt soft hands like warm leather over hers.
"Is that remorse I hear, love?" his sultry growl in her ear was white hot, contrasting the bite of a dagger against her side.
The blood spilled hot over the ground as the rain fell.
