A/N: Alright. I tried and tried and tried to get the fight-scene right, but I just couldn't. There was too much going on. I had too many Titans and too many people. I had the ones who were fighting and the ones who weren't. I had the background to think of and injuries to apply.

So I scrapped it and skipped straight to the end of the fight.

If someone wants to try their own hand at writing the scene up, feel free! And if you do and you post it, send me a PM with the title and I'll check it out, not to mention I'll be very flattered you guys pay me this much attention. The details are in this chapter and the one before, so you'll have to read through them for the things kinda needed to write it.

Anyway, on with the chapter! Please don't hate me!

OOOOooooOOOOooooOOOO

{Chapter Fifty-Two: Losses}

"Th-that was..." Peregrine gasped.

"He's not a threat, he's on our side." Erwin assured as Mikasa pried Eren from the decaying body.

"You're sure?! What proof do we have?!" Terry demanded, eyes wide with panic.

"Stand down... The matter is the kid saved our asses. Look at us. Without him, we'd've been..." Staghorn ordered, fists clenched. Heads bowed, the outsiders began murmuring apologies. The redhead took a shuddering breath and tilted his head back. "Losses!"

"Lukas and one of theirs... Bluebell wasn't eaten, of that I'm certain, but I can't find her..." Ichor volunteered. No one else said anything, his brief report covering the deaths.

The Titans had begun to prove too much for the weary warriors. And as Lukas was crushed and a Scout bitten in two, Eren had bitten down on the ball of his thumb, activating his Titan-shifting ability. He'd successfully destroyed the remaining six Titans that were left at that point, but it was something that Erwin had neglected to tell the outsiders. As a result, it was creating panic. The only one of the outsiders calm about the matter was Staghorn, as a result of fatigue and despair.

Many people were injured. Eren was unconscious and burnt from his Titan-body. Lukas was crushed, bones piercing his skin and fluids leaking from punctures, and one of the soldiers was missing an arm, part of his torso and his leg. Ghoul's leg was once again in bad condition, the fight having aggravated the old wound despite it's healing. Peregrine's hand was bleeding badly, and it looked like two of her nails had been torn off. Theresa was wobbling so bad it was obvious she was about to pass out. Plenty of others were no better off. Steam from the Titans and smoke the fire that'd been started filled the air.

"... Right... Those who are in the best condition, take care of the wounded and reign in this fire. We can argue about Eren and this lot later..." Staghorn murmured, sagging against a tree. From under the hand pressed the his abdomen, blood seeped out and stained his clothes, dripping to the ground. A tree-branch sent flying in the fight had stabbed into him, and he was sure that there was still a piece left in him.

Devastated, everyone moved to obey. Theresa, not actually wounded, tried to move to help, but her eyes rolled back the second she tried to move. Jean, in similar condition, just barely caught her. They were helped over to the area where the wounded were being gathered by Zoë.

"Damn... Damn..." Staghorn cursed, grinding a hand into his eyes to stem his tears. These were his people. Was he really so hopeless as to just lose them one after the other? Couldn't he protect anything at all?!

"Easy. You did all you could, and without you, many more would've been lost." Erwin soothed, seeing how distressed the slightly-younger man was.

"... Yeah, but... Damn! These people are my family... and yet... They keep slipping away... Everyone from the village, then Yuma and Mina, Hawthorne... Now Lukas... And we can't find Bluebell..." A choked sob almost made it's way free from the redhead's throat. "Am I really so fucking useless that my people are dying like flies? Like they didn't even deserve to live..."

Erwin was quiet. He didn't quite understand the pain the outsider was going through, but he did know there were plenty out there who did. Instead of saying anything, he gently guided Staghorn to where the wounded were being tended to.

Sasha and Connie had suffered only the lightest of wounds, mainly scratches and bruises, so they were helping put out the fire that was spreading through the trees.

It was while they were doing this that they found Meredith's mother.

Sasha's scream alerted everyone that something was wrong, and the few still able to loped to see what the matter was.

Meredith's mother, Bluebell, had been fighting alongside everyone else when she'd been backhanded by one of the larger ones and thrown into the trees. The back of her head had met the tree with such force that her skull was caved in and her neck snapped. She was found draped over a tree-branch like wet laundry hung out to dry. Blood still dripped from her mouth and nose, and the fire licking the tree had begun to singe her clothes and skin. Her face was slack, mouth hanging open and dull eyes staring at the ground below them.

"... Dear god, is nothing you've created sacred to you...?" cursed Terry, tears welling up in his eyes as he helped reclaim the body.

Screams, wails and sobs went up around the camp as she was brought back.

"Staghorn, I'm sorry..." Ghoul whispered as the redhead sat next to him.

The outsider leader looked at the exhausted ravenette, who was laid out on the ground so he could be treated. The ones with worse wounds, such as himself, were being treated first, so Ghoul was being made to wait his turn while more life-threatening cases were dealt with. Tears filled and overflowed mismatched eyes, even after they slid shut.

"What did you do? None of this is your fault." Staghorn murmured, gingerly taking his hand away from the already-soaked patch on his abdomen.

"... Everything... If I'd only died back then... I'd've never had to hurt anyone... I... I never would've led them outside... to you... So this... So Hawthorne... I'm so sorry, Stag..." Ghoul sobbed softly, covering his dirt-stained face with equally dirty hands.

Staghorn blinked, then frowned. Yes, he saw how this could technically all be projected onto Ghoul as his fault, but that wasn't the point. "Hanningworth, none of this is anyone's fault. The only person who can reasonably be blamed would be the one who pulled the Titans out of Hell, and he's probably long dead. Just try to relax, alright? You of all people deserve some rest. Without you, none of us would still be alive, because those bastards would've taken us all in our sleep."

"Without you, Theresa would never have lived to find her parents, and most of us would be dead from the trap set during the expedition." Jean murmured from where he was laid nearby.

"... Trap...?" Staghorn asked.

But both had passed out, Ghoul still hiccuping. The redhead frowned, gravely upset by what the brunette cadet had said.

As the wounded were taken care of and most of the fires put out, attention turned to the dead. Meredith clung to her mother's body, screaming for her to wake up, refusing to accept that her beloved parent was gone. A pyre was assembled, but not like the one that'd been set up for Hawthorne. That one had been given time, thought and love. This one was thrown together, the only thing carefully arranged being the bodies. A burning branch was tossed onto the heap, followed by another and another until the flames caught. Some of those who had passed out woke up just in time to bid a final farewell to their friends.

Last time, Peregrine had played her flute while Bluebell had lead everyone in song. But now Peregrine's left hand was bandaged so much she wouldn't be able to use her bow for a while, much less play her flute, and the lovely singing voice of the mother was no more. The scent of burning flesh and wood filled the air along with the stench coming from the decaying Titans. The coppery moon slid down behind a dusky cloud, and the cool, damp wind started back up again. It was stronger this time, moaning in a mournful manner. The fire crackled and popped, but it seemed subdued, as if it understood the burden of the fuel it was feeding on. Off in the distance, Ghoul's wolf from before began to howl again, voice ragged and broken. No one spoke. Meredith was still wailing, and others were unable to contain soft cries of their own, but no words were spoken, making the exit of the loved ones' a silent affair.

Morning was coming. But those who were still awake, no matter how exhausted, couldn't sleep. How were you supposed to sleep after something like that, anyway?

As the wind blew colder, a few people sidled closer to the blazing pyre, sharing warmth with their fallen comrades one last time.

OOOOooooOOOOooooOOOO

A/N: Who hates me?

Anyway, I had a tough time writing this chapter because I had to include wounds and the fire started from the campfire. It technically would've been easier with the fight scene, but...