Bernie quickly took to walking beside the half-beast. He couldn't see her, that much was clear, so she was free to take a closer look. The metal legs The bird had said that this creature could be an enemy, a slave, a lover, or a sacrifice. Well, he didn't exactly fit her type, which leaned towards the 'wholly human', so that was doubtful. She also didn't like the idea of having a slave. Or of sacrificing anyone. In fact, all of the options seemed one way or another distasteful.
The creature seemed tired. A few times it ran its human hand through its hair and sighed heavily. But maybe that was just the lumbering way it walked. As the sky started to darken, Bernie began to wonder if the bird hadn't just sent her on some other-worldly goose-chase. A fine joke, following this half-man for all eternity.
"Ha ha," Bernie laughed dryly.
The half-man stopped suddenly, and Bernie, who had been walking behind him, crashed into him from behind and fell. The half-man whirled, and in his hands was a gun. A big, mean-looking gun that wasn't there before. Bernie didn't know what it was, but she didn't like how it was now pointed at her.
It was pitch-black. They were no longer in the swamp. They were… Bernie didn't know where they were.
"Wait-?"
"Who are you?!" He was obviously as surprised to see her as she was. He wore combat armor the gleamed in the night light, and his antlers were gone, but it was the same creature. She looked down at his legs. The gleamed too, jerky and backwards, rods of steal and nests of wires weaving in and around the structure. Metal legs.
Bernie crawled backward, confused and afraid, "I'm nobody!"
"Nobody, eh?" When his feet hit the ground her head rang. It was like a giant's step. His face was mean now. What had been sallow tiredness was replaced with a ruddy and fearsome expression whose bottom teeth were bared at her. She raised a hand to protect her from the barrel of the gun the swung towards her face, and his other hand snuck behind her and picked her up by the collar of her jumpsuit.
"Please! I was just told to follow you!" Her fingers dug at her throat, seeking a zipper or a button to loosen. She couldn't breathe.
"Follow me?" He held her as if she weighed nothing. She gripped his arm, trying to lift herself, trying to get a little more air. It was hard and cold, made of metal too. The hoof-hand.
"By the red ibis!" She choked out.
He dropped her like she was hot to the touch. She landed hard. No longer in the swamp. She coughed, vying for time, taking a good look at the pine needles under her hands. Where was she? How? How could she have moved from one place to another?
"Why are you here?" His voice was caught between a growl and a scream.
"I-I told you I was told to follow you-."
His arm moved faster than she could react, and she was flipped over onto her back, "I heard you the first time, but why?"
"I don't know why!" Bernie shouted at him. He moved to hit her, "He said- said that you were a familiar face!"
"A familiar face," he paused, "What does that mean?"
"I don't know!" Bernie backed herself up until she hit a tree, and used it to get to her feet. She felt shaky all over. "I'm supposed to know you. From the future. They said I was looking for you…" And she felt the wind taken out of her.
"From the future, that doesn't make any sense! Nothing that bastard does make any sense. Why are you here?!"
It all made sense. As gift. As a sign of goodwill, the Heron sent a gift. Something they were looking for. Not something. Someone.
His metal fist seized her shoulder and shook her, making her neck pop and crackle. Bernie felt like she'd just been rocked out of her body, but she could still hear the big scary guard shouting at her.
"We were looking for you! Coleson and I!"
"Why?" his face was inches from hers.
"Because you could find who massacred the southern Church. The-the Church of the Moss camp!"
"What are you talking about? Why do I give a shit about some ghouls who got themselves shot-up…"
"That's why the Heron sent me, I'm supposed to find out!" She managed to push his hand off of her, and held her elbow close to her. She felt fragile and shaken. "And you're supposed to help me find who did it."
He straightened, face hard to read.
"Where am I?" She asked finally, after a few minutes of tense silence.
He blinked slowly, shook his head, muttered something to himself and turned away.
"Hey!" Bernie shouted, "You don't just get to-!"
He turned and put the muzzle of the rifle to her face. Bernie didn't think she'd ever seen anyone as intent on shooting her as him. She'd been shot at before. In minor, glancing skirmishes with other addicts. They had been small game. People just pulled the trigger mostly to make noise and scare the other off. This was an entirely different kind of intent.
His lips formed a straight line, and he shook his head and lowered his gun, "I must be a dead-man walking."
"What?"
"This will help you find me again," he reached into a small pack slung over his chest and took out a piece of wax paper. Bernie took it, not understanding. "Don't lose it."
"Wait, you're not going to stay?"
"No, you're not going to stay." He put the cold muzzle barrel between her eyes, and Bernie had just enough time to think about how cold that little circle was before he pulled the trigger.