Chapter Seven:
Fakes and Forgetrees
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Vincent's brown eyes widened as he fell, staring right back into Claire's. And then – nothing.
His crobat screeched, jumping in after him, his wide wings almost slicing her cheek, and Claire shouted, "get them to the other side, and don't let them come up," into the lake. Océane, tired, still nodded, lifting a lazy tentacle – only to wrap it around Mike and Sophie's waists, arresting them. Mike screamed, his alarm carried by the wind.
Claire looked away, sure that if Vincent's crobat didn't save him, then Océane would. It's fine, she thought, he's not going to die. He's not. Everything's alright. She stared at the tall grass, rummaging trough her pockets frantically, for anything that would help; a forgotten hyper potion, berries, anything – but only found dissolved painkillers. The tiny white circles fell apart between her shaking fingers and she cursed, feeling helpless.
Victor's pokéball was shaking in her belt again. Claire breathed in, listened to the crobat's wings hitting Océane's gooey skin (had she managed to immobilize Vincent, as well? Was she already surfing away? Had Claire managed to ensure their safety?), and released him. The mightyena woofed sternly, tail pointing to the sky as he took her in. Victor was annoyed, she knew, angry at her for not using him for so long. He furrowed his brow, but after a beat allowed her hand to brush the space between his ears.
"Pardonnez-moi," Claire murmured. Victor licked her arm curtly, and then walked away, staring at the grass. He'd always forgive her. All of her pokémon eventually did.
No more space for sentimentalities, though. Lambert was still bleeding, so Claire recalled him quickly, analyzing Capucine and Bjorg. Bjorg, as she had guessed, was fine, though Claire knew she wouldn't have energy for long, and struggling would eventually wear her out. But Bjorg nodded, lifting one stony hand and thumping it against her chest, and Claire decided to oblige, letting her stay. Capucine was another story, limping sadly and looking pink all over. Her messily thorny arms swung by her legs, tired.
How many had she killed? How many had all of them killed? If Capucine had warned the rest of Claire's team, then, then ... God, Claire felt sick. She swallowed thickly, the hot wind drying her lips despite the icy rain, and recalled Capucine with a half-hearted smile. It would be fine. Victor was healthy, and Bjorg had much to give out yet. If Vincent's pokémon were half as good fighting alone as they were with him, they'd done damage, too, and that allowed her to relax minutely.
Vincent, with betrayed brown eyes, disappearing into the ravine. Claire could still feel his chest under her palms, warm and wet and inhaling in surprise. She shook her head, thought of anything else. The bile rose up her throat and she swallowed it down resolutely.
"Use all your debilitating fangs, please," she told Victor, and he gave her an evaluating look before he nodded, accepting, "and – leave the inflicted ones to Bjorg. Call me if – "
Victor barked, cutting her off impatiently. He knew, and he was telling her he knew, and that she could count on him. Claire pushed her hair back, and rubbed at her eyes, feeling tired and sore. The crobat was still screeching, below, but the tall grass was shaking and she ignored the shrill noise. A mightyena – was it? Claire still couldn't see very well, but yes, it was her. It had to be. Smile slipped out of the green with careful, frightened paws, and Victor barked a warning, and ran off, ready to bite. Bjorg remained, tightening her posture, shifting her plates for higher defense again.
Smile flinched, receding cowardly, and Victor twisted his face, baring his fangs – Smile tripped, and Claire chided herself for not remembering scary face before Victor had. He was upon Smile with a jump, his teeth tearing at her leg. What elemental fang had he used first? There was a slight yellow glow, then, and she nodded, trusting him with the rest.
But there was no rest – Smile had come alone. Why? Claire strained to see, but the tall grass had been shaking since the rain had picked up, and it would give no answers.
Bjorg advanced, smacking down the paralyzed Smile with a heavy arm. The mightyena whined, scurrying away from Bjorg, but Smile was the only one outside the grass, a lone and easy target, and Victor cut in. Smile tried to kick some mud into his eyes, pawing pathetically, but he easily avoided, landing on her side with outstretched claws. The final bite was loud and made her want to look away; she didn't. Smile fell with her eyes open wide, and Victor let her, turning away to face the tall grass.
That had been easy, Claire thought, satisfied despite the suspicion, and wondered why Alex hadn't leant on Victor, before. Would have he survived? Would it have made a difference? Or had Alex judged his opponent and decided it wouldn't matter? He'd been the kind of person to spare his pokémon, always too soft-hearted and just. Claire rubbed at her eyes; she shook her head, frustrated with herself, and watched Victor return to her, muzzle wet and dark-red.
"Earthquake," Claire said blandly, turning to her lairon. Bjorg walked to the space closest to the tall grass and stomped, hard, crying out. The ground under Claire's feet shook, and she knelt, reaching out for flatness with unsteady arms. From the grass, a few surprised howls could be heard, and Claire smirked, pleased. Victor sniffed at the wet air, but eventually just waved his tail calmly, waiting for the rest of the pack to leave.
"If I die," she said, suddenly reminded, looking at him seriously, "I give you permission to die with me."
Victor raised his eyes to hers, looking like the puppy she had mostly seen in pictures, and then nodded solemnly.
Five or six mightyena staggered out of the tall grass; Claire felt herself go tense, but then she noticed the scratches and the weary weight of their limbs, and the unease passed. They gave Claire a look, their tails hanging between their legs, and walked past, headed into the other side. Victor watched them pass, glaring at them silently from Claire's side.
"They're giving up?" she asked, and Victor nodded unsurely, but then shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the retreating pack. "Well?"
He only growled under his breath, watching them intently until the last black hair of their tails had disappeared inside the thickets of grass. Claire felt confused; had she really killed Smile and fended off the rest? It seemed too good to be true, so Claire tensed, straightening, waiting for the worse part. Bjorg looked at Claire, ready for another order, but by then Victor had gotten up and started to run in the lairon's direction, nostrils flaring and teeth gleaming in the white sun.
"Avoid him," Claire shouted at Bjorg, who dutifully took a hasty step back and watched him run by. "Don't go in there, Victor!" she warned, chest angry and worried, but Victor didn't even stop to listen, diving into the tall grass as sleekly as a linoone. Bjorg looked shocked, her jaw stammering as she growled in confusion.
Claire motioned for Bjorg to retreat, and the lairon nodded and hurriedly stomped over to her, staring at the tall grass with focused eyes. Bjorg was a lady of war, never ruffled, always ready. Claire loved her for it, but her lairon was only a baby, just two years old, and she knew Bjorg was nervous. Victor was twelve; nothing startled him, nowadays. He was prone to indiscipline, but Claire wasn't Alex, and she supposed she understood he would never love her as much as he had loved him.
Did he feel guilty to witness Alex's death, helpless? Trapped inside a ball, watching his teammates die? His trainer?
Victor hadn't had an easy life. He had been her mother's egg first, deposited in her box a few months after hatching, a few hours before the last time Claire had spoken to her. And Alex had withdrawn him, chosen him as his starter, nicknamed him, and proceeded to train the newly-named Victor for nine years – it was no wonder Victor did not respect her as much.
The grass rustled, breaking Claire out of her sullen memories. Her mightyena jumped out, growling, and Bjorg set herself in front of Claire, ready to earthquake again, but no other mightyena followed. Victor trotted over to her, looking dignified, and sat.
"Well?" Claire asked. She'd never been as good as talking to him as to the rest of her team. Victor shrugged, sniffing haughtily, and then shook his head. Alex's killer wasn't here. Did that mean it hadn't been a mightyena? Had they even fought the entire mightyena population? She highly doubted it, withdrawing Bjorg and turning to look at the lake. Victor stood watch, looking bored.
Below, her tentacruel was waiting, the rest of the group trapped inside two tentacles.
Océane had not moved one inch, despite Claire's previous orders; she didn't know whether to feel offended or emotional. The tentacruel greeted her with a bubbly sound, and released Vincent with a particularly loud pop. Mike and Sophie, stuck in the same tentacle, were probably looking displeased (Claire still couldn't see as well as she usually did). Vincent took some time, but eventually released his crobat, who flapped his wings at Océane rather angrily. Océane ignored him, and he took flight after a beat, directed for her. Victor sniffed at the crobat curiously before allowing Claire to return him.
The crobat didn't seem pleased to carry her, and Claire knew she deserved his loathing, but he eventually let her hook her feet on his hind wings. Claire didn't fly much, only with rental services, but riding a crobat felt like a strange way to travel even if you were a regular flier. Her ankle complained about her weight, and every time the crobat shook its wings, Claire had to close her fists to avoid hissing. However, the crobat managed to remain steady in the hot, hard wind, and she eventually landed on Océane's head with a relieved sigh.
"What the hell, Colonel," Mike shouted, from inside Océane's closed tentacle. He was as white as a sheet. Sophie seemed slightly annoyed to be smushed against the smaller boy – perhaps because he had been shouting for the last minutes. Claire waved her hand dismissively at Océane, and she released the two remaining prisoners. Sophie seemed rather thankful, but it was Mike who visibly sagged in relief.
"I had to check something," Claire said automatically, sitting down and trying to take her backpack off. She was hungry, she noticed, and her main priority was food. "You were safe with her," she added, when Mike frowned even more.
Océane growled, pleased by the compliment, and Claire found a miraculously dry package of cookies under her terribly-folded sleeping bag. Squeezing her arm carefully between it, she managed to salvage it. They weren't the chocolate chip ones, she noticed, despondent, but they would do.
"Feel free to go," she said, tearing it open and bringing two at a time into her mouth. Mike sat down quickly, trying to grab at the slick surface of Océane's blue head. His fingers pressed against her jewels. "Do you want food?" she added, turning to Mike and shaking the package. He shook his head, looking pale. Océane lifted a tentacle, pushed it against the wall, and began to move, swaying with the violent water.
"I'd like some food," Sophie said, from the other side. Claire nodded and threw her the pack, after taking five more cookies. Sophie nodded politely, catching it easily. "Thank you."
"Was this really necessary," Mike moaned, trying to wipe himself; Océane's goo was splattered over his shirt and arms, and Claire knew from experience it would eventually dissolve, but kept smirkingly quiet. "I thought you were going dark on us," he added, sulking, giving her a narrow-eyed glance. "What were you doing?"
"Trying to find something," she said curtly, still not used to his nosiness. She turned to Vincent then, closing down Mike: "Thanks. Uh – for the lift."
Vincent, perched almost casually on Océane's side, only nodded after a beat. Claire hated that she felt guilty, and she hated that she wanted to apologize even more – 'sorry' might have been Vincent's favorite word, but it most certainly wasn't hers. Still, she had pushed him off a cliff without warning, and even if her intentions had been the best, she supposed he deserved it.
"And – sorry," she finally said, through hasty, large bites; the wheat cookies tasted like salvation. But Sophie was eating hers almost morosely, delicately munching, and Claire slowed down, feeling embarrassed.
Vincent looked surprised, and almost pleased, if his sheepish smile was of any indication. She hid her full mouth behind her hand, slightly embarrassed.
"You're too lenient," Mike cut in, still gripping Océane's bobbing head like his life depended on it. They were half-way there; Océane wouldn't risk surfing at her usual speed in these waters, and Claire felt proud she didn't have to tell her to behave herself. She swallowed. "If that would've been me, I wouldn't forgive her."
"But it wasn't you," Claire shot back, feeling annoyed. The back of her head ached every time Océane swayed, throbbing dully, and though she was glad she wasn't feeling woozy and oddly calm anymore, the pain was irritating.
"Um, it's – it's fine, I was fine," Vincent said, ducking his head and staring at the waters. Claire still noticed the pink of his ears, despite his attempt at hiding his face, and couldn't help but to smirk widely. "You, um, you had your reasons."
"Yeah, and what the hell were they?" Mike insisted, frowning. "If that had been me pushing him, you'd be on me like a – mightyena," he concluded, wincing at the words. Claire was starting to realize the smaller boy had a penchant to speak before thinking. "And what if he hadn't been fine?"
"I suppose I understand," Sophie said calmly, placing a hand in front of her chewing mouth. Claire felt glad the other girl hadn't stopped eating to talk either, and ate another cookie. She was still starving. "I guess ... we wouldn't have agreed to wait with you by the ravine even if you had asked us to, seeing as we were being chased. And I'm sure no one in this group would have left you behind by yourself, despite their panic," she concluded, giving Mike a flat glance.
"I'm not panicking," Mike replied quickly, blushing very faintly, "I'm righteously alarmed by this turn of events! He – could – have – died!" he stage-whispered dramatically, straining every word.
Claire frowned at him. "He was with his crobat," she said, crossing her arms and regretting it when both her head and her rib complained. "And Océane wouldn't have let him fall," she added, giving Océane a reassuring pat on the head.
Her tentacruel growled happily, suction cups popping louder for a second. Mike turned to look, alarmed, but Claire shook her head at him, trying to calm him down; the walls around them would surely hold, even if Océane grabbed onto them for balance. This bridge marked the beginning of the following route, Route 121, where the lack of rain assured that the swamps and the tall grass wouldn't leave Route 120. The ground was sturdy, here, and Claire knew she would see the tops of the taller pine trees, if she looked up. She didn't, too aware of her aching head.
"Still," Mike stressed, "what was so important that you would push a – what did you call him – a hot, yes, that was the word – what did you push a hot human being like Vinnie down a cliff for?"
Claire glared at him. Sophie was frowning minutely, in what seemed to be disapproval. Vincent shrunk into himself, ears redder.
"Because she needed to assure the three of us were both safe and out of the way," Sophie said, swallowing conclusively. Mike gave her a long look. She passed the wet cookies to Vincent, sitting between her and Claire, and he nodded in thanks, taking one. Sophie watched Claire attentively, then: "Why did you assume you could have died, up there? You were the one who allowed us to escape in the first place, so why—"
"Why does it matter? I'm not dead, you're not dead, and we're on our way." Claire watched Vincent eat, feeling more and more embarrassed by the fact she was seemingly the only voracious eater in the area – human, at least. "Or are you accusing me of conspiring with the mightyena?"
Sophie didn't smile, but she didn't frown, either. "I'd like to respect your privacy, unlike some people," another glance at Mike, "but the fact is you are a very strong-minded person, and you aren't above doing what you must to survive. Your pokémon are also startlingly well-trained, and you've used two of them – that I know of – to threaten one of us."
"Amen," Mike said, frowning at Claire now. "Why is it that you think you'll be excused of everything just because you apologize?"
Claire glared at the two of them, feeling ten again. She had always detested having to explain herself to her dad, or even to Mr. Lehrer, and he'd been someone who was – who was special to her, in a way. Did they really expect her to take off her armor so easily? Her hand slid to her waist; both Mike and Sophie noticed, but only the smaller boy mimicked Claire.
"Ripping up our contract so soon?" Mike said, teasing, but his shoulders were tense. Sophie raised one eyebrow at him.
"Making sure it'll stay intact, rather," she replied dully. "Here's the deal – I'm more honorable than you are," she accused, icy blue eyes pausing on Mike's, "and I won't 'turn dark' on the three of you any time soon, but I expect to keep my life to myself. I have told you already that I was just making sure of something, so I am going to ask you to let it go already. Comprend-vous?"
"Unacceptable." Sophie shook her head calmly, surprising Claire. She had been sure the opposition would be all Mike's. "Well, no, not exactly unacceptable – I do understand your point of view, but is this really the time to take risks? I am down to one tired magcargo, and he won't last long in these conditions. Michael's seviper, along with my swalot, has fainted, which means two of our debilitating users are out of commission." She breathed in, then sighed, pushing her hair back. She looked over her shoulder, evaluating the ravine. "Would you really abandon us if it meant proving something to yourself? What would be your tentacruel's reaction if it witnessed your death? Do you really think it would have taken us to safety before rushing to your side?"
Claire's stomach clenched with anger. Bitter anger. The kind of anger that hurt her more than it did anyone else. After all, Sophie was right. It was starting to seem the taller girl was always right. Claire's fingers tightened around Lambert's ball until her knuckles ached.
"I," she started, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant, "I have promises to keep. If it means I die, then, that's fine. But I wouldn't leave you to die," she added, and it disgusted her, because she wasn't sure. Her plans had been thwarted since she had met with Mike in the first shrub, constantly changed half-way to fit the situations better. Would she be able to keep her word, if she had to choose between Alex and the rest?
Mike's eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed, though his hand stayed. Claire knew he would understand – at least him. He glanced at Sophie, unsure, and the taller girl crossed her arms, looking focused.
"Can you make sure it won't happen again? We are finally starting to leave the most dangerous location, and I am anxious to find constant safety and warmth," Sophie said, sounding anything but anxious. "As I have said before, the decision falls unto you in the end, but let me warn you that I won't accept your dismissal, if you believe darting off on your own is a better idea."
Claire almost felt offended. Sophie was riding on her tentacruel, but it seemed like she owned the lake, because her tone did not leave any doubt – Claire was a prisoner. The blond laughed, then, in disbelief. Mike tensed again.
"So what you mean is," she said, fingers brushing around the button of the pokéball, "you will not let me leave the group, and you will not let me force you into accompanying me, if I do decide to take care of my business. My decision is nothing, in the end – you are only giving me a choice if it means I make the one you want me to."
Sophie nodded, looking unruffled. Claire grinned at her, angry and smug.
"I'd like to see you try," she replied smoothly, and Mike's hand fumbled – Nimbus screeched, confused, trying to find a place to land. The wind knocked him back and forth. Claire narrowed her eyes, angry, and released Lambert.
"Wait! No, I—" Mike was saying, but Claire held onto Océane and leaned in, whispering. Lambert nodded at the words, his eyes still sleepy. His arm, at least, was not bleeding anymore, and Claire felt less guilty when he gyrated quickly, slashing across the confused altaria's clouds. Only there was nothing but air and a red flash; it seemed Mike had returned his altaria just as quickly as he had released it. Claire turned to him, eyes wide, and found him pale again, holding onto Océane. Lambert stared at him, his claws still out, his feet unsteady. "Sorry," he said, his freckled cheeks pink, "I didn't mean to – the button was wet."
Claire bared her teeth at him, returning Lambert as well. Océane growled, then, stilling in the current.
"I take it this means you will stop running off on your own?" Sophie continued, completely undeterred by the tenseness between them. She hadn't even turned to look at the brief fight. "I apologize for being so enforcing, but I would rather not see any of you die," she added, taking out her glasses from her collar and wiping them, eyes downcast. "It seems I've grown used to watching you in life."
Mike looked surprised: "Wow, could you be any more sentimental—"
"I accept," Claire cut in, agreeing for now, if only because they were finally by the man-built trail that climbed into the route. Océane extended a long, drowsy tentacle, and anchored herself to the surface, waiting for them to climb off. The waters churned against them; a few brown drops hit Claire on the arm. "I won't leave you if my absence contributes to your death."
Sophie nodded, placing her glasses on her collar again. Her brown eyes revealed nothing as they stared back into Claire's, but the other girl still thanked her politely.
Mike was the first to get up, and the quickest to jump into land. He landed one-footed, and then fell to his knees, but the smile on his face was wide and relieved: "It's the first time I'm glad to fall on mud," he said, catching his breath, and Claire gave him an odd look.
"The waters aren't that bad," she replied impatiently, waiting for Vincent to get down, "if you'd fallen, you'd only have to keep afloat while one of us helped you up again."
Mike's smile dimmed slightly, though he still nodded; she looked away, and into Vincent's outstretched arms. His face and posture were unsure, and Claire could feel herself growing tired of having to use him for help, but she carefully jumped down anyway, secretly relieved when he caught her and steadied her. The pain in her rib and head made itself known again, but she ignored it; with a quick gesture, she returned Océane, and then stared at the man-made stairway, wincing.
"I, um, I don't mind carrying you," Vincent said, and Mike grinned.
"I wouldn't mind either," he piped in, but Claire was still too angry to tell him off, so she looked away, attempting to calm down. It was too soon for her to act like everything was fine. Vincent, unlike her, began to stammer and explain Mike he hadn't meant it like that.
She ignored them, too busy thinking.
Sophie had trapped her better than the mightyena pack had, and though she knew the brown-haired girl was right, all it made her want to do was sock her in her pretty, straight nose. How dared she act like she was her father, or Mr. Lehrer, or even Alex? Those three were the only ones who could ever tell her what to do – and even then it didn't mean Claire would do it.
"I'm sorry I put you in this position," Sophie said from her side, while Vincent and Mike were distracted with each other. Claire tensed, looking away from Vincent's reddened cheeks to look at her. She didn't seem sorry, but then again Sophie never seemed like anything at all, did she? Claire bit the inside of her cheek, but listened nevertheless. "But our success rate has been dropping, and I mean for us to reach Lilycove alive. I apologize for giving you no choice."
Claire glared at her, though the sentiment had been somewhat lost: Sophie seemed to be genuinely sorry, despite the customary lack of emotion.
"Besides," Sophie went on, "I'm sure finding the pokémon that murdered your brother will be easier after you have taken a well-deserved break. Think of your pokémon, of your mental exhaustion, and of your rib and head." She sighed, very softly, and then rose her downcast eyes to the bridge's remains, meaning to continue talking.
But Claire grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes wide and knuckles tight, and hissed: "How do you know?"
Sophie paused, lips parted.
"I – read about it," she replied blandly, even as Claire brought her closer. Sophie must have been hurting, because Claire had dug into her arms, shocked, but the only smudge of expression on her face was – regret? Claire couldn't pin it down, it was too subtle. "Alexandre Tolbert was famous enough to be reported on, though not on your mother's grandiose scale. It's still a part of my job to know about behavioral changes in pokémon, of course, so I would have still known, even if the small town media hadn't. Of course, I don't plan on disclosing this to anyone else – I," she paused, unsure for the very first time since Claire had met her, "I just thought you should know—"
"Ta guele," Claire said softly, cutting her off.
It didn't matter anymore, she thought, staring at the ground.
Claire felt sick to her stomach, releasing Sophie with shaking hands. All this time – all this time? Had Sophie been aware of who Claire was all this time? That explained why she had released her ultimatum; she knew about Alex. She knew about Maman. She had seen the motives for every single one of Claire's moves. Claire had thought Mike was the one who would throw that in her face, after the treaty, but she had been once again wrong.
It was starting to feel like she was always wrong.
"We'll – we'll talk later," Claire said, hands closed, and though it was more an order than a plea, Sophie still accepted, nodding gently.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Mike was saying from afar, patting Vincent on the shoulder condescendingly, and Claire tried to ease her expression into nothing, but the shorter boy still noticed the thick tension surrounding her. Sophie brushed her hair back, noticing him, and offered him her right arm for balance. He took it, albeit a little suspiciously: "Are we – interrupting something?"
"No," Sophie said curtly, shutting him down without as much as a glance. He looked taken aback, and Claire would've smirked at him in any other situation, but she only looked away. "Shall we head on? Claire, you had mentioned the secret base to the west, yes?"
Claire did not reply immediately, staring at the girl with focused eyes, but nodded, in the end. Mike looked exceedingly pleased, waving the lake goodbye with teasing fingers, and Vincent shuffled closer to her, still unsure whether she wanted his support or not. She didn't, but she had to, so she grabbed at his waist again, wordlessly stumbling after Mike and Sophie.
On this side of the bridge, Claire felt safer. There were a few patches of tall grass here and there, so she knew that she wouldn't be able to fully relax until she got to the base, but she still allowed her shoulders to descend, sighing discreetly. Sophie and Mike were chatting, a few steps ahead. The sandy road was wide, here, wide enough for them to spread at ease – Claire was secretly glad she could have a silent time-out after Sophie. It had tired her, understanding that Sophie had reached a right conclusion about her. Claire had never liked being transparent, had never liked giving pieces of herself away, and Sophie had collected all of them without Claire even realizing.
She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling, her tongue flitting across her wet lower lip.
"A-Are you okay? Should I, um, should I stop?" Vincent asked, taking tinier steps. Claire only shook her head, and they walked in silence until she saw the hill she had talked about before. From below, it looked like heaven – tall, out of reach, and impossible to climb. The mightyena would never be able to take them unaware, now. Actually, Claire realized, would they even bother to chase them? Smile was dead, and Big had been the first one she'd killed – would the pack avenge them, or simply disregard them as too much trouble?
Smile had been the one with the biggest drive to kill. Claire thought about her lonesome body, left behind in the other side; she had been frightened, before, and she had been so easy to kill. Why had she come alone? Why? Claire frowned, arm tensing around Vincent's waist. The taller boy startled, spine straightening and cheeks reddening, but she paid him no mind.
Mightyena were one of the few lines that did not exile pokémon of their pack regardless of whatever offenses they committed. There were punishments, or reductions of status, but never abandonment. So, why? She tried to think back to that moment (tried to forget about Sophie's awareness), but her head had still been fuzzy, and she hadn't been able to see as clearly. That Smile had been frightened was a given; she had seemed to slip out of the tall grass with no slow dances, just a reticent paw after the other.
If she had known she was going to die, why had she left the rest of the pack, lying safe inside the grass tunnels?
"If, um, i-if you want, I don't mind carrying you," Vincent said again, voice a little strained.
Claire looked up: "I don't. If I wanted to, I'd tell you."
He glanced away from her quickly, looking embarrassed.
"It's just – um, you're, um, you're holding on pretty tight," he managed, and Claire felt her cheeks go hot, softening her grip on his waist. She hadn't realized. "I, um, I don't mind, really—"
"I was just thinking," she shot back, feeling annoyed and embarrassed. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
Was she? She looked away from him, refusing to keep eye contact. Vincent was the only one in the group who didn't know anything about her, and she wanted to keep it that way; he was the only one who didn't make her feel so small.
The rainy wind was their only soundtrack as they sloshed forward. The weather had remained awful, and Claire was feeling both too warm and too cold: the constant walking warmed her up, yes, along with the hot wind, but the rain tore through it all anyway and made her want to rub her arms for heat. She thought of their goal, thought about Chama's fire warming them up once they arrived, and grit her teeth and walked on. They weren't far, in her opinion – and the odds were they wouldn't be disturbed on their way there, since the bridge split the mightyena-filled grass from the rest.
She took a deep breath, feeling strangely weightless; the air smelled of wet soil and something cold, and though the sun's light was still pale and white, Claire thought the grass looked beautiful, even when Smile stepped out of it with a grin.
