I don't like how video game characters don't really have a story beyond when the main character comes in and does main-character-y stuff, so I wanted to write some stuff to fix that. My writing isn't all that good but I enjoy doing it enough, so I hope it'll bring somebody some joy. Let me know if you like it! More chapters are forthcoming whenever I write them.

She'd gotten pretty deft at climbing down ladders by now. And finding new ones. And darting from anything that might try to hurt her.

But today, luck didn't seem to be on Abigail's side.

She wasn't lucky before she left for the mines, either, and that was why she was there. Most of her morning was spent trying to stock the shop, but she couldn't get it right and her father struggled to hide his disdain. She got a short lecture about keeping her head out of the clouds and she cut it off by saying she was going to go visit a friend. Pierre shook his head, but let her leave anyway. So here she was.

The mines always provided some amount of comfort. They smelled deep and warm, at least on the levels near the surface. Like the earth after a storm, or an old worn book. To her it smelled almost like a safe blanket, a friend, somewhere to get away. No one knew she went down here, and no one would find her and tell her to come home.

Another ladder, another floor deeper. Maybe soon she'd reach the lake, but she didn't know if she'd go past it or not. Her foot moved a little more tentatively than usual on one of the middle rungs, but she steeled herself and continued on. The mine was trustworthy.

It gave lightly under her weight.

The mine was trustworthy.

It shouldn't have surprised her when the old, half rotten timber cracked and snapped, but it did. Only one of her hands was barely holding onto the side of the ladder, because she'd put too much faith in her expertise as an explorer. As her body hit the hard earth twelve feet below her, she vowed not to make the same mistake again.

If she could even get out, that was.

A dull pain covered her body, and she was vaguely conscious of something warm and metallic-smelling running down her forehead. She took a deep breath and tried to force herself up, but the best she'd managed was a rough sit, her legs sprawled forwards, one arm behind her to hold her up, the other clutching her aching ribs. Tears mingled with the blood dripping from her face, and she could hardly see.

If she could see, or move, she'd be running by now. A slime, usually small enough to dodge, waited only a couple yards away from where she was. It watched.

It pounced.

She didn't even hear it, despite the distinctive sound it made. She just felt it, stinging, a chemical burn. The ooze seeped through her leggings and onto her skin, and it hurt. A lot.

Everything hurt a lot.

"Oy! The hell's a kid doing down 'ere?"

The noise was enough to disrupt the slime, who scurried off into the darkness. Marlon shot a few loud curses at it, but there was no response.

He hobbled over to Abigail, moving as fast as his cane would let him. He took one look at her and realized she wasn't coherent enough to speak, but being the gentleman he was, he still gave it an attempt.

"Those things can rough ya' up bad if you're caught unawares, miss. You're lucky I was down here, hm?"

He sighed and shook his head, but she didn't notice. If she heard him now, she probably wouldn't remember it later.

"Let's get you on your feet."

Being the cave-delver he was, Marlon wasn't reliant on just the standard entrances and exits. He knew more than enough ways to get in and out of a mine, and he managed it quickly. Even with the added weight of a nearly-dead body. Still, though, it was maybe half an hour before they stumbled through the door of the guild hall.

The one resident still in the building shuffled out of his rocking chair and to his feet, barely awake from his nap. "I didn't think you'd be back so early, Mar-"

"Call the doctor, Gil. Now."

Gil might've been even older than Marlon, but he knew when things had to be done. He was on the phone with the town's doctor in under a minute, and he was getting together warm water and medical supplies right after.

Marlon did his part to drag Abigail to the bed in the back, laying her down as gently as he could before collapsing on the floor, breathing deeply. He hadn't had to rescue someone, or carry a weight that heavy, in years. It took a lot out of him, and it took a lot out of his bad leg, too.

He cautiously brushed the girl's purple hair out of her face and began to recognize her. The shopkeeper's whelp. He could still remember when she was born.

His old adventuring companion came in behind him, carrying a bowl and some rags. "Know who it is?"

He bit his lip, taking a deep breath in. He wasn't exactly sure what to say, but realized it'd be best to err on the side of honesty.

"Th' Carter girl, I think."

Gil just nodded. "See her go down to the mines sometimes. Didn't know she went in."

"Must've fallen down one of the ladders. Gimme a rag."

Marlon pulled the hunting knife off his belt and slowly, carefully, cut the fabric covering the slime-wound. His patient, who'd been unconsious since they'd left the mines, flinched slightly. He couldn't help but soften his face and talk gently to her.

"I'm sorry. Y've got a bad burn, keeping the clothing on it will jus' make things worse, eh?"

She flinched again as he pulled the patch of cloth off, replacing it with a damp washrag. "You're going to be alright, ey? Doctor'll be here in a minute."

Neither of the men knew exactly what to say.

"Should I call her folks?"

"No." His answer was absolute. A sigh escaped his mouth. "She's old enou' to tell 'em herself, I think." If anyone told them at all. Unless the doctor could work miracles, though, it'd be sooner or later that they knew how badly she was hurt.

Gil left, probably to watch for the doctor, and Marlon just waited, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He held Abigail's hand gently while he cleaned the blood off her face. First he sang old work songs he'd learned as a boy to keep the silence away, then he slipped into the lullabies he'd heard as a wee one. Anything to ease the pain, even if she wasn't listening.

He felt culpable for the accident she'd gotten herself into. He should've been watching out, keeping people out of the mines. Especially people who didn't know what they were doing. Especially *kids*.

It was his fault. All his fault.

Now he was the one with tears running down his face.