When they came to the cargo plane almost an hour later, they were led there by a series of crates, broken and unbroken, and they spoke little.

The plane had disrupted the jungle so little that there was hardly a path where its descent and tumbled landing could be discerned, save for the broken branches that led up to their approach of the wreck. One of its wings had been torn off, its primary shaft had all of the small rectangular windows blown out, and jagged metal wounds ran open on its body. Every crevice and nook was filled with snapped twigs and brush, chlorophyll like emerald blood surrounding the points where the plane had made shredded pulp of the jungle's life. The remaining wing had its engine stuffed with the chewy spinach that had jammed inside during the fall, engine blades as broken teeth. The plane laid like a beaten corpse tangled with busted foliage and cutting a swatch deep into the forest, nose tipped into an inland lake. The lake itself gave no clearing for the sky, its marshy shallows only enough that thin, long stalks of verdantcy grew upwards into great fronds.

To one side of the plane, in a patch of dry soil, there lay a pair of stony piles in long oblongs, with thick logs jammed at their base. None of them asked what was inside the piles; no need. Otacon went to them almost immediately, sullen, wordless. He looked at them for a long time, and no one stopped him, nor did they begin to rummage through the plane without him. Snake took this as a smoke break, Vines and Ellie held their own council whilst taking prone on a log. After a bit, Lara approached, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Hal."

Otacon began rubbing the ridge of his nose under his glasses. "Yeah, I'm okay." He turned to look at her, away from the twin cairns. "Thanks. Thank you." Otacon looked past her, to Snake. He was sitting against a tree, one elbow propped on a bent knee. "He's a hard guy to like. You know that?"

"I'm getting that impression, mm. We can talk about it later, right?"

They returned to the area at hand, and moved to close in on the tree.

To her right, Lara heard a click, and when she'd turned, Snake was already taking stance. He had moved ahead of everyone else by the time they came within ten metres. "Lara," Snake said.

She unholstered her weapon, held one hand up. The other three stopped and hung back, with Vines looking resigned but impatient. She thought, had they the resources, giving him a firearm might not be a bad idea.

Snake held his pistol at waist height upon approach, footfalls careful, seeming to pay no mind to the world around him but careful to step around twigs, loose bark, anything that could make a sound. His eyes could not be discerned, save for the duskyness surrounding them, the deeply set blue shimmers below shadowed brow. Snake's shoulders even sat differently on his bones, not stiff but coiled. Just a couple feet between them, and she felt a shared sent of predation. In the plains of Africa, she'd accompanied once a big game hunter, and aside from the disdain for which she had held her company, Lara felt as though there was a distinct lack of real predatory nature to the act. Tracking with a rifle in hand against animals who could not fight back with even chance was a far cry from observing an animal's natural prowl for forage, for food. But, against any rational discerning, that was what she felt like now.

Like hunting with an animal.

In the fall, there were a pair of logs that had been felled and lay as obstacles, large and thick enough that getting over them quietly was almost impossible, but it took only a moment. Lara was surprised when Snake took her hand to help her over, but it seemed only a prudent courtesy to avoid noise: They returned attention elsewhere as soon as it had been passed.

Once within a few feet, Snake changed stance, training his gun forward and slowing what was already a very cautious gait. The mouth of the plane's cargo bay jutted open and at queer angle toward them, sides burnished with green and in some spaces stripped of the white paint that had formerly covered its exterior. It was unusual for Lara to have to approach with such caution, not out of unwillingness in the past for discretion but out of lack of necessity. Most of her expeditions were replete with animals, but hardly cause for human violence. There had been periods where unsavoury mercenary sorts had made life difficult, but this almost constant threat was neither familiar nor alien. Unusual, and distinctly unpleasant fit the bill. It reminded, and discomfited, her of the difference in their lives.

Lara listened for unusual sounds, or lack of sound. Strange things that could indicate human artifice, or their passing presence, and found little. It was clear at least to her that no ambush lay in wait, or that there had been no visitors beyond the transitory relief workers they'd left some meters back. No broken strains of grass, or bootprints, and in wet soil, it would have been almost impossible to hide such signs. Snake seemed to satisfy his own skepticism likewise, because in a moment, he ceased gripping the pistol in both hands, and holstered it. On this sight, Lara did likewise.

"It's clear! Come on over!" He shouted.

It was only when the other three followed their path that it became apparent how silent they'd been. Otacon, Vines, and Ellie's approach sounded like nothing less than the stomping of ill-mannered toddlers through an alley made of glass. The unsubtlety amused her, even if she did catch sight of a slight consternation draw over Snake's features.

The next hour or so was a careful bustle in and out of the plane, careful in part because of the slant that the plane had entered the glorified pond, although no water had managed to enter but parts of the cockpit. A lot of their gear had survived: Otacon's portable computer equipment had mostly made the transfer. They also found a crowbar, the only thing that had kept them from making a point of opening the crates that they had disembarked mid-flight. There was the flat smartpad he'd made use of at the airport, and the wearable keyboard was paired with it, which he immediately strapped around one forearm. There were also food supplies, which Snake voiced significant interest in, and survival goods along with Jeep maintenance equipment. The clearing operation took more than a few trips in and out of it, and opening the two crates that had been left behind was more difficult than it had to be: They needed to be opened inside the plane, since moving them was impossible. They were too big to lift without a pully system of some sort, and the incline made it even worse, as they had tumbled and jammed on the breach wall separating the cargo bay from the central hall and cockpit.

After they had finished, they were covered in sweat. Vines had taken off his shirt for the work, and Otacon's t-shirt was spotted with dark patches of moisture under the arms, the small of his back. A short break followed suit. Snake dolled out the packaged food they'd unpacked, small plastic satchels of imitation chicken ala king, and packets of juice. Vines and Ellie seemed the most famished, and mentioned running low on supplies prior. Snake offered half of the food haul, and they agreed gratefully.

Once they'd finished, Snake again asked for Lara in consul.

"I need you to—" He placed a cigarette in his mouth and began to produce his lighter. By the time he had, Lara had yanked it from his mouth and crushed it underfoot. He accepted this with a small groan but nothing more. "—to keep this quiet. Because I don't like it, and it sounds worse when you say it out loud."

"Bloody…I don't like the sound of this. I also don't like the idea that we're keeping our own little conference every five minutes. Why don't we just talk to Otacon? I mean, I understand those two-"

"I think those guys were never meant to take us out."

"Snake?"

"Think about it. If they believe we're with that private security company, why would they send so few people? If we were a unit, we'd have mopped them off the floor." Snake was producing another

"I don't understand…" But she did. She was starting to. A feeling like a knotted muscle was coalescing in her abdomen.

"We'd have been heavily armed, and we'd have them beat not just in manpower, but in sheer hardware. Those guys were just…" Even Snake seemed reluctant to voice it. "Farmers with guns."

"So what do this mean?"

Snake hesitated. Produced another cigarette. Lara hadn't the heart to take it from him, nor the energy. The end of it burned to life, glimmering reddish light on the tree they'd stood behind to shield them from the others.

Lara could feel it creeping up on her, and hated the slow way she'd put it out of mind. How, after the sickly adrenaline had worn off, she'd shut it out in favour of the goal they'd needed to accomplish, justifying it so easily. And so willingly.

"Either they don't think we're with Araignée, or they were sent to test our capabilities," he said.

Lara covered her mouth. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh god. Snake. That's…"

Snake said nothing. He inhaled deeply.

"Snake, they were sent to die. For us to kill them"

"Yeah." He exhaled. "Yeah. Because whoever's got this Peace Walker thing wants to know what we can do. Who we are. They probably sent the freshest recruits they had."

Her eyes snapped open, and the anxiety of the conceit left her, if only for the moment.

"Snake," she said. "You can't tell Otacon. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

Snake looked down at the soil. His face took a shadow, and in his eyes she saw someone very old and very, very tired. "I know."