Food was running low. They had not had a chance to take a trip into a village for a long time. They often scavenged from nearby cornfields, eating the slightly under-ripe corn uncooked off the cob. Occasionally they were able to get to apple trees, and stuffed themselves full one sweet juicy fruit, only to wake the next day hungry again. It was too risky to go into town again. There were Crow and Akuma dogging their steps, and they rarely stayed in the same camping spot two nights in a row.

It was late, and the moon was high in the starry indigo sky, gleaming like a pale orb in the Autumn air. Rin's stomach gargled angrily. She turned over quietly and looked into Allen's eyes. He was awake too. They both lay there for a long time, their stomachs interrupting the soft peace of the rustling leaves and the cackling brook nearby. "We have to go get food tomorrow." Allen's voice was barely over a whisper.

"Yes."

The sun peeked over the hills in the east, it's rays spreading warmth and light over the scrubby forest where they were staying. Allen was sitting very still, Rin's finger spreading the cover-up evenly over the left side of his face. He spoke, "You got it all covered?"

"Yes."

He hugged her tight in the dawn air, pressing his face into her dark hair. She clung to him, her fingers clenched, the knuckles white. "I'll come back as soon as I can"

"Be safe."

"You too. Stay under the bushes, make no noise."

"Of course I will."

She watched, standing still, as he flitted through the trees. She stood, the sun illuminating the slender green leaves of the elegant bushes carpeting the forest floor, then she slipped among their welcoming cover.

Allen made it to the village without trouble, wandering among the market stalls piled high with autumn squash and apples of every variety. Twice he had to dive behind large displays to avoid demons but there was not sign of pale gray skin, and not a glimpse of crimson robes. The colors were blinding, the smiles, the carefree people of the world, united against those who knew darkness and fear. He stole through them like a ghost, no one glanced at him, for they had no time for sadness. They were the nymphs of the world, in their own world. He was alone, human, tainting the joy in his wake, bringing the dark upon the silvery light. Though he was also the light within the dark, saving the worlds from all of the pain, like a pure white dove he calls to the lark, and brings out the darkest flaws in the faith's vein. Of course they would keep on running, hiding from them, them, the ones who marred God's carefullest will, will keep on trying until the very end, to catch them, the lights in the dark, and kill, and someday, they may be lucky and may find, the sanctuary, with beds warm and soft, with easy life and guards who are kind, but for now that is all some paradise lost, The moon is young and the night is most fair, though they walk, as prisoners, into the beast's dark lair.

It was getting dark by the time he was walking through the forest, laden with several bags of non-perishable food, making little noise and looking for landmarks; the broken stump, that bend in the stream. He made it back to the clump of leafy bushes, crouching low, he peered through the skinny branches and dark leaves.

"Rin." He called softly. There was no reply. Am I at the wrong clump of bushes? He glanced around, no, there was the tall pine with the half-fallen branch swinging forlornly in the slight breeze.

"Rin?" He called again, maybe she fell asleep. He stepped through the bushes, searching for her brown hair. Then he saw it, like a beacon of war in the darkest of nights, a tiny scrap of crimson fabric, snagged by the bushes' quick fingers.

He wanted to let out a deafening scream, to ask the indifferent night if this was a dream, but that little voice in the mind, though it may seem, an unworthy source in this dark scene, was whimpering quiet! With the cool night breeze. He looked again for some sort of clue, a path, and slipped through the bushes with skilled ease, ears pricked for their unmistakable sound of wrath. There was not a sound, not a whisper or sound of a struggle to betray their dark actions. Allen searched, but the only sound in the night was the branches of the bushes he had moved, along with the soft footfalls of the beetles in the rocks. Rin! He thought How could they have gotten you so easily?

Authors notes: I'm sorry for all the figurative language. my writing is having an identity crisis right now. Theres a sonet, look close.... you can find it *evil laughter*