Chapter Fourteen:
Crawl

OoOoOoOoOoO

"When you can't run, you crawl. And when you can't crawl, when you can't do that…"
"…you find someone to carry you."

-Tracey and Zoe, "Firefly"

OoOoOoOoOoO

The first time he saw her in her fur, she froze in place, her wide eyes locked onto his. They were both a hot, molten gold with wildfire dancing in them. There was no trace of the witty blue-grey in her right that he had grown accustomed to. The way her wolfish face had dropped away of any emotion at all would have been comical, if there wasn't such a sudden stink of fear in the air. The tension was electric, and he was afraid the wrong move might set her off. He could scarcely breathe.

The full moon was riding high above them, shafts of silver light lancing through the tree canopies, alighting her up. Ash was about as thin in her upright, two-legged wolf-woman form as she was in the body he was used to seeing; all lean and hard, corded muscle. Only this time, she was covered in fur; dark russet brown, it almost appeared black in the darkness, but the tips of feathery-soft fur along her head, her ears, her tail—they were all darkened red, like blood. And then there were the scars. She was covered, even he could make out the thick pale traces along her abdomen, her limbs, and her backside; they peeked out beneath the dark fur like pale crescents.

She was a creature that really had stepped out of a storybook, living and breathing right in front of him. Right from her little leather notebook with all the other monsters, except she was tangible, she was real. The eventual thought that he had just stumbled upon a veritable creature of lore that, by definition, killed and ate people, finally hit him. The realization hit him suddenly at that moment in hindsight.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She's warned him off before, told him off plenty of times. Whether it was by a subtle statement or an outright growling threat, she always told him to never follow her, or leave the homestead on the night of the full moon.

She had even taken the liberty of deducing when they would be and marked them on his calendar.

Really, she was that efficient.

Then why in the hell did I follow her tonight?

Oh, yes, that was right…curiosity. That was what had driven him to believe it was a great, an absolutely wonderfully terrific idea to follow a werewolf out into the cover of the night.

Which brought him back to the present.

Neither of them had proven capable of moving, not just yet. She was as still as a statue, the same as him. He was almost sure that she had stopped breathing and was simply holding it. How long could she do that for, again?

Something far off in the distance, another part of Yamatai, shrieked. It shattered the stillness and the spell that held them both mesmerized and unwilling to break their staring contest. She moved first and she was unbelievably fast. One moment she was there, the next she was simply gone. There wasn't even a trace of where she had gone, what direction she took. Not a snapped twig, nor the rustle of leaves and foliage swaying in her wake.

Allen was just thanking his lucky stars that she seemed completely uninterested in eating him, before berating himself for even thinking that.

She's told him before that she doesn't eat humans. He was perfectly safe, but then again…why would she warn him away if that were true?

OoOoOoOoOoO

She didn't return the next morning, like she normally did. The raptors were gone as well, having fled into the night prior. Most likely, they hunted together.

The hours ticked by and by the afternoon, it felt like millennia had passed him by. Apprehension struck him out of the blue in those late hours and after he nearly took apart the entire cave to find the one item he wanted, he found it.

It was the leather journal Ash had shown him, over three years ago. It detailed the monsters that had come to Yamatai, the ones that were still around. Each entry had their own sketches, scribbles, drawings, basic information. He flipped through pages until he landed on the one marked 'Werewolf' in Ash's messily scrawled handwriting.

There was a charcoal drawing of a standard werewolf, one that was similar in build to Ash's from last night: lean but muscled, covered in thick fur all over the body, upright on the hind legs, dexterous front paws that resembled hands with vicious talons, a bushy tail, wolfish snarling face…

This one, however, didn't have scars. It was a rather generic body scale; simple, sweet, to the point. General information was listed on the page over; he glossed over most of it, but stopped at the boldly listed 'Weakness' section written in her writing:

Silver, wolfsbane, fire (except for moi, because pyrokinesis; suck it world!)

So that was what she had. Interesting.

He barely remembered it the first time he went through this book; although, in all fairness, he had been rather skeptical on her claims in the beginning. He had scarcely taken it at face value at the time. Allen skimmed through the following two pages detailing further breakdown on information connected to werewolves.

He reread it all twice before closing the book. When he stepped outside, the sky was bruised and dark with the oncoming of night. The wind skittered noisily past him, tugging at his clothing and hair. He spat it out of the way, noting that he'd need to bind it back to keep out of his face. Allen wandered past the entrance to the homestead, finding a better view to look over the eastern face of Yamatai. Already, ribbons of darkness were snaking their way across the sky, while in the west, the sun was bleeding out into the ocean and setting it afire. He turned on his heel, intent on grabbing his bag, bow, and a walkie-talkie. He wasn't going to idly sit by and wait.

He'd done enough waiting as it was, and he already felt cooped up for the last several months, waiting for his leg to heal.

OoOoOoOoOoO

He ran into one of the raptors scouting the pine forests. It was Sol, one of the lighter-coloured raptors. He was almost a touch or two away from being described as 'golden feathered'. When Sol spotted him, the Dakotaraptor went stiff as a board, rapidly inhaling Allen's scent as he approached slowly, hand extended. Sol sniffed the offered limb, eventually rubbing his snout against Allen's palm in way of acceptance.

"We need to find Ash," he said to Sol, while signing it at the same time. Sol purred quizzically, head tilting to the side as the raptor soaked in the message. The raptor snorted only after a few moments of consideration, turned and cough-barked at Allen to follow.

The moon was late in its rising that night, but it rose all the same and provided just enough light for him to travel by. Sol had little issues, although he picked his way carefully through the underbrush as they traversed the terrain. It took most of the night to find paths that both he and the raptor could take together, but it eventually led them both down to the southern beaches, where the old PT boat usually sat. It was gone now, taken by their last group of rescued survivors. It'd be back when the island reset, but the low-rise bunker remained its decrepit old self. Sol paused between the two buildings, purring softly as he turned to the one closest toward the water. The door was rust-red and bolted shut. He peered in through the window, but couldn't make out anything, not with the shadows obscuring everything. Sol peeped softly beside his head, snout pressed against the glass as he sniffed.

"Ash?"

He squinted, frowning as he stepped away. Sol remained where he was, his breath fogging against the glass. Allen placed a hand on the raptor's backside. Sol squealed softly, but didn't snap at him.

Ah, progress.

"Are you sure she's here?"

Sol timbered at him, snaking his head to and fro in response, then bobbed it toward the door.

Allen moved toward the door and gave it an experimental pull. It jammed for a moment. Allen tugged harder. It finally gave with loud screech of metal-on-concrete, protesting the entire way. Sol screamed back, snorting noisily, feathers all splayed out. Allen shushed the raptor, soothing the animal softly. Sol snorted, clacked his jaws at Allen and promptly meandered away without further fanfare.

Allen turned back to the inside of the bunker, peering into the dark. Ah, this was better, being able to see while inside, instead of outside-in.

Or maybe not.

Ash was there. Sol really had led him to the right place. She was curled on the floor, hiding in the shadows, leaning against the wall, not paying him any mind whatsoever.

Oh, right, and she was naked. That took Allen a very long minute to process before he cleared his throat and pointedly averted his gaze before he could make out any other details other than the glimpse he'd taken.

"Um…do you…need some clothes?"

"Why the fuck are you here?"

He winced at her tone, but didn't answer right away. He slowly swung his pack forward, offering it out to the woman sitting on the concrete floor.

"I…usually carry spares. They might not fit too well, since they're a bit baggier than yours, but…"

The pack was swiped from his hand before he finished.

"I asked why you're here," Ash repeated more firmly. She was rustling through the pack.

"You didn't come back. I was worried."

"Maybe I wanted some time away. Ever thought about that?"

"Ash, I know you're mad, and I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean to what, Allen? To pretty much say 'fuck you' in the most politely British way of yours as possible by ignoring what I asked of you? To completely disregard the one thing—the one fucking thing—I've consistently asked of you, to not follow me on full moon nights, to not try to-to actively seek me out. The one fucking thing and you just—ignored me."

He startled when she came stalking past him, cinched up in a pair of his spare clothes. They weren't as terribly baggy on her as he had expected, but it hid her figure completely. He scrambled to get his pack and jogged after her out of the bunker.

"I-if you're worried, that I was trying to peek at you, I didn't see anything, really—"

She whirled on him, her jaw clenched tightly as she did, both eyes glowing an eerie gold. He backpedaled a step or two.

"It has nothing to do with you 'sneaking a peek', I'm pretty damned sure of that. I was naked just then, in there, and you weren't exactly paying attention to the goods there either." She barked at him, glowering. Just as quickly as she rounded on him, exasperation grew on her face. "I didn't want you to see that fucking…that fucking face."

She turned away from him, stalking down the concrete walkway. He stared after her, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched her go. Sol cough-barked somewhere close by, announcing his presence. Ash responded in kind. He stared after her for a moment longer before trudging along at a slower pace.

Back to square one.

Again.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Your hair's getting long."

He glanced up from the novel he had been reading. Ash was leaning on the back of the couch close beside him, head tilted, her mismatched eyes half-lidded and contemplating him.

Instinctively and without thinking, he reached up and threaded his fingers through his hair. He cringed when a particularly stubborn knot refused to come loose as he pulled free. It roughly felt like it was well past his shoulders by now.

"And a bit snarled," he added in faint annoyance. Ash reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"I'll be right back."

She was gone for overall, a good three minutes before returning. In her hand, she had a soft-bristled brush. Ash wagged it triumphantly.

"I thought I only found one on the boat, but I was wrong." She said, plopping onto the couch beside him and presenting it over. "Here."

"I wish I knew about this sooner…"

"Sorry. My bad. Shitty memory, remember?" She offered a lazy grin. He returned it, albeit haltingly so as he took the brush. He was glad she was beginning to ease back into her usual self around him. It's been a long few weeks with her simmering anger just rippling beneath the surface lately. "I can make you some hair ties in a little while, if you'd like."

"Thank you," he said, blinking and taken aback. He allowed a pause to pass between them as he fiddled with the brush in his hands. She flashed him another quick smile, rolled up to her feet and gave a mock salute before disappearing into her bedroom. He stared after her, then slowly dropped his gaze to the brush.

A part of him wanted to believe he was off the hook now, but some things were just too good to be true. Still, he had a good feeling that he was.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"There's so many older ships crashed here."

He squinted, straining to see past the glare of the sun on the waters. White foamy waves crashed against the wooden hull of yet another ship below, roaring away.

"Do you think there's any pirate treasure down there? Maybe we should go down and check," he joked, laughing. Ash gave him a quick smile, but that was about it.

"What, like Henry Avery's big haul or something?"

"Henry Avery…why does that sound familiar?" He mused aloud. Ash sighed.

"Henry Avery was a pirate from the late sixteen-hundreds, who pulled off one of the biggest heists in history, and disappeared without a trace. Some say he died, others say he and other pirate captains founded—"

"Libertalia! I remember hearing about that!"

It has been such a long time, he realized. He could just recall Lavi once telling him about it; a mystery that not even the Bookmen knew the truth about. There were just some mysteries that haven't been successfully recorded in history, and there were many, many others he wished he could have uncovered.

Ash offered him a softer smile this time around, nodding. She returned her gaze back down below.

"I doubt any one of these belonged to any of those pirates—this is too far northeast for their tastes, especially when compared to what historians used to say, and the ships are all wrong. I also don't believe there're any trinkets to be had, not anymore. Most of the hulls split open on the rocks below the water level when they got grounded, and spilled their contents into the sea. Chances are, they got swept away and scattered along the seabed through the currents and buried under the sand, waaaaaay out there."

She motioned vaguely out to the horizon. He sighed.

"It would be nice to find some treasure," he said wistfully. Ash laughed.

"Not all treasure is silver and gold and shiny jewels."

He glanced at her after her keen remark, surprised. He smiled a bit. "I suppose that's true. Some other things are a lot more valuable than a few chunks of pretty metal and stone."

Another tired ghost of a smile trailed across her face, but it was gone before he could truly see if it was really there or not. Her focus was more aligned to the horizon, a distant look in her eyes. He followed her gaze, back to her melancholic expression, and felt his heart sink when he glanced at the horizon again.

Not all treasure was silver and gold and shiny jewels…

The full meaning of her words sank in and he fell quiet, realizing why she looked so sad.

OoOoOoOoOoO

A week. She's been gone a whole week.

She had told him to not worry, that she was going to be scavenging supplies, but where she had to go, he couldn't follow. "I have to swim there. It means fighting against currents, finding the right way in, holding my breath for longer than a few seconds at a time."

"And how long would you expect to be underwater for?"

"Well over how long you can hold your breath, that's for certain. How long was that again? Thirty seconds, a minute at most? I can hold mine for over an hour."

When that was said, the argument pretty much died instantly, nipped in the bud and all that. "Is there anything I can do, besides sit around and do nothing here, like usual?"

He would admit, he had been peeved. He wished he had had the sense to argue against it more at the time, to pry more into where she was headed, to know just in case at the very least. Or better yet, he wished he had had the idea to ask if she was gone past a certain point, if he should have come looking.

Instead, she only told him that he could go hunting and restock the food stores, collect whatever plants they were low on, scavenge what supplies that he deemed necessary for home. He had let her go after that, watched her even, with a terrible feeling growing in his gut.

Now he was following her trail, once more using one of the raptors to help him. It was Clover this time around and she was eager to assist. The raptor led him to the southern end of the island. As they hit the trails pressing tightly to the cliffs that overlooked the sea, they were making headway further west along the coast. Clover took pause beside a hardy tree that hung over the cliffs, reaching for the ocean beyond. Below, there were more ships, wrecked upon the boulders pushed against the cliff face. Clover cough-barked, chittering as she jerked her head to and fro excitedly. Her crest feathers rose and fell in unison as she whirled on her feet, sniffing the air, tasting it. She squealed, taking off. Allen followed, only to stop just as suddenly as he started, finding Clover sticking her head into a hole in the cliff face.

"Clover, we don't have time…for this…" He began to say, but he stopped suddenly. Clover's voice was echoing. Allen listened carefully, stepping closer to lay a hand on the Dakotaraptor's flank. Clover chittered, yanking her head out and pinning him with a wide-eyed gaze. She snaked her head back toward the hole, all sounds cutting off and leaving him in silence. Clover continued to stare.

"She's…she can't be in there," Allen said, skeptical. Clover screamed at him abruptly, baring her thin, long teeth. She jutted her snout toward the hole, then looked back at him with a menacing purr. Allen raised his hands, signing that he would look. Clover snorted as she ducked her head to preen at the feathers on her arm in response.

He ducked down, peering into the hole, only to be astonished. The hole wasn't just a hole. It was an entrance to a cave. A very large one, if he could trust his eyes. Allen craned his head to look toward the raptor, who was still attentively preening her feathers.

"I'll be back. Just stay here, all right?"

Clover chittered back.

He was going to have to take that as an "okay".

Turning back to the hole, he took in a breath, braced himself, and pulled himself into the small entrance.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Inside was a lopsided maze of stony shelfs, precipices, slanted floors, natural jutting buttresses and jagged edges. Thin canyons that dropped away into darkness had him picking his way carefully over gravelly floors. Loose stones constantly knocked away beneath his boots and sent him skidding if he wasn't cautious enough. Trails leading just about everywhere in the winding cave systems presented him with a challenge.

He was stunned to come across half of a ship, crushed between two rocky walls. He moved on.

When he came upon the first shrine, he nearly lost his stomach at the sight. A woman was strung up, her corpse withered and shrunk. She had her limbs tied and splayed out, while her head lolled on her chest. Allen covered his mouth with his hand and averted his gaze, closing his eyes. Judging by the state of the corpse, the woman has been there for quite a long time and has seen little predation from anything other than time. It didn't even stink. In fact, it almost looked mummified, to an extent. He recalled what Ash had told him, and continued telling him over the course of the last several years: the Solarii crucified the women they found, sometimes burning them, using them as religious icons in order to pray to Himiko.

He's only ever seen a few of them, and most of the time, Ash was the one who handled them before they set them to rest by burning them on pyres.

The vein of caves he chose to traverse showed more signs of inhabitance. There were smaller shrines scattered throughout, but thankfully, no more corpses were strung up to be viewed. Only bowls and candles and miniature statuettes of Himiko's visage and phrases spelled on the walls greeted him.

Occasionally, he had to bulldog his way through torrents of water pools, pressing up against the current as he went. Sea water was making its way into the caves somehow, and random bits of detritus floated along inside, swept up in the current. He came across no Solarii brothers, thankfully. Their numbers really have dwindled down almost to nothing these days.

Allen shivered as he pulled himself onto a platform to get out of yet another sluggish pool of water, but paused halfway out when he saw dried flecks of blood spattered across the wood. He frowned as he followed the trail with his eyes. It looked like it was leading away from the water. He hesitated, but it lasted for all of a few lingering seconds. He hauled himself full out of the pool completely and began following the trail of blood.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Tracking was a hit or miss with him. There were times in which the trail was completely washed away. The caves were constantly damp and he was lucky most of the blood hadn't disappeared completely already. He'd have to wander around to relocate it, but eventually he was back on it. Briefly, he wondered if he was actually following the blood to a Solarii brother, or worse, one of their victims left to rot in these damp, dark caves.

Regardless, even if it was one of the Solarii brothers, he'd recognize Ash's handiwork regardless. It would mean she's been through here. But why? What supplies could she hope to gather from this underground nightmare? It was full unrecoverable detritus and junk.

The blood trail led him deeper into the caves, although it seemed like he was ascending.

The paths kept climbing higher, but the longer he followed, the more blood seemed to have been spilt. His worry grew over time and increased with every droplet turning into a spatter and every spatter turning into a puddle. There were occasional shafts of light that stabbed through cracks in the mountains, providing him with just enough to work with. It helped make things easier. Or worse, he wasn't sure at this point. He was startled to come across a boulder that sat over a large pool of blood and covered in claw marks. Thin rakes marred the stone's hide and he traced his fingers over it, glancing back at the spot where the concentration was largest.

He hurried around the boulder sitting in the path, only to come to find the path was partially caved in. The blood trail dribbled over the stones, weaving back and forth for easy handhold access that didn't require overhead grabbing. He picked his way over the collapsed boulders until he pulled himself up to the top. More cave scenery spread out before him, with high rising walls and ceilings, deep shadows and sudden drops. He caught glimpses of other sailing vessels crammed and crushed and squeezed between great pillars of giant rocks and walls of stone, somehow having made their ways into the depths of the mountains' bellies. Allen slowly found his way down, finding this side of the rockslide more treacherous than the way up on the other side. Most of the stones were slick and smoothed down from years of having water dripping on their surfaces and now they were all so loose, he feared he'd start up another rockslide.

He wound his way along a thinning trail that pressed tightly against the face of another mountainous wall. He had to shuffle slowly, but he made it to a wider expanse of walking space. He glanced back and saw the smears of dried blood against the wall he had just traversed. Allen quickly turned on his heel and continued, winding between cramped passages and tunnels. When he rounded another bend, he was greeted with the sight of yet another sailing ship torn asunder. Most of its hull had been lost, as well as the aft portion. The bowsprit had been ripped apart, and most of the masts were nothing but splintered stumps. A portion of the deck remained intact, and perhaps one level of the innards, but that was about it. The blood trail led straight toward it.

Allen hurried over, quickly scaling the myriad of holes that had sprinkled the once-pristine hide of wood. Hauling himself up, the droplets swerved toward the hole where it would have led inside the ship. Allen followed, mindful of his steps as the wood beneath him sagged and groaned in heavy protest. He made it inside, took the first two steps—and then promptly fell the rest of the way down. The entire staircase was gone.

"Oi. Keep your voice down, do you want to start another rockslide in this place?"

He snapped his head up at the familiar voice, scrambling to his feet. He squinted in the murkiness, but before his eyes could adjust, a globe of fire arose, filling the hull with a soft amber glow. Ash wasn't far from where he'd landed, details of her form coming into view. She gave a stiff wave as the floating orb flickered beside her.

"Hey."

Allen stared, taken aback. He quickly recovered and trotted over, mindful of his steps as the planks beneath him groaned softly in protest.

"What in the hell happened to you? It's been over a week!"

"What did I say about voice volume," Ash barked back in a hushed voice before sighing in resignation when he didn't balk and simply glared. Slowly, she peeled her other arm that had been wrapped gingerly around her midsection. He could see the blood staining her clothes, soaked deep into the fibers of her shirt and part of her pants as well. "Has it really been a week? I thought it was only a few days…"

Allen ignored her, kneeling to further inspect. She leaned away when he reached to pull her shirt up. Even with an arm draped across her midriff, he could see the blood spattering her hand and forearm.

"I need to see how bad it is."

"It's nothing."

"Then why haven't you come back home? This doesn't look like nothing; I've seen you heal from much worse, but you're still hurt. You're still bleeding. I had to follow a blood trail all over this place just to find you!" He felt his jaw clench and all the worry and the gut feeling that something bad really had happened has just been confirmed and it roiled away in the pit of his stomach. "What happened?"

Ash opened her mouth, as though in protest, but she clacked it shut and sighed instead, avoiding his eyes. "This is embarrassing…"

She grabbed her pack sitting beside her, and yanked it over, unzipped the top and dug her hand around inside. Something clinked, metal on metal, and she pulled her hand out. In the firelight, coins glittered. Gold, most likely. Allen's eyes widened.

"Surprise," she half-grinned. "Found these while I was scavenging."

There was a tension in her voice Allen could sense right off the bat, one that was trying to push the pain out but was failing. He stared at the coins in her hand, his mouth agape in disbelief.

"You…came all this way for trinkets?"

"I told you, I was coming her to scavenge some things. I just happened to come across this first while doing that and—and…and you, you're not buying any of that, are you?"

"Not in a hundred years."

"Oh, so should I wait a hundred years and then ask?"

"Ash!" He pointed to her midsection. "What happened?"

She sighed and it was such a world-weary sound. He didn't miss the wince halfway through, and she knew he saw it. She draped her arm back around and didn't meet his eyes.

"Even more embarrassing," she muttered while her ears slowly pressed against her head. "One of the ships…you've seen them, some of them, they're way the hell up there, all crushed between the walls from constant shifting in this damned place. One was pretty close to…well, let's call it the 'ground' and it was close enough to jump up to. Damn near intact, too. There was still a lot of stuff inside. I swiped a few things, but I managed to grab, believe it or not, a stupid decorative silver dagger. I thought I was smelling burnt ozone, but I couldn't tell from where so I was trying to be careful in what I touched. Next thing I knew, I had picked up the damned thing and burned my fucking hand on it."

She made a show of rolling her eyes, her jaw tightening. "This place is pretty unstable. The minute I opened my mouth, I ended up starting a rockslide. Everything's topsy-turvy, and when everything settled, I found I landed on that same stupid dagger. I pulled it out, but…I think a piece got stuck in…in my side. Too small to grab, but big enough to be a pain in my ass and burn a hole in my gut."

She sucked in a breath, gritting her teeth. "Been having troubles moving around since."

"But what about your walkie-talkie—"

"No service in here," she shook her head as she dug into her pack and pulled something else out. It took Allen a few seconds to recognize the ruined remains of Ash's walkie-talkie. "I also landed on that when I fell. I don't recommend using this to cushion your fall."

"How can you be smiling about this? You're hurt!"

"I get hurt all the time." She pointed out.

"This is different!" He said, raising voice only to flinch moments later when the wood hull around them groaned. Sheepishly and more quietly, he added, "Let me see. I want to help."

Ash groaned in resignation, carefully peeling her soaked shirt up. It was a mess beneath, worse than he's seen prior before. There was a jagged gash along her left side, just beneath her ribcage. It was bloodied and raw, like it couldn't choose between whether it was burnt or if it wanted to be ripped flesh. He hissed in sympathy and flicked his gaze to meet hers, concern washing him anew. It wasn't terribly large a wound, but it still looked nasty.

"How bad does it hurt?"

"Bad enough that it hurts to move around too much or too fast. Or breathe." She sounded drained, like she was utterly exhausted. Coupled with the growing sluggishness in her words, he could tell she was struggling to stay awake now. He cursed under his breath and positioned himself beside her, one arm looping beneath the backs of her knees. She'll pass out at this rate and won't wake up if we don't get moving.

"I'm getting you out of here."

"Allen, there's only one way outta here, and that's through the water passages. You won't make it. I probably won't either, not like this." She reached to stop him, but it was half-hearted. He shouldered her pack alongside his when she did, but he didn't pause.

"Not true," he countered. "Clover and I found a small opening along the cliffs, right along the coast. I got in through there. It's a tight squeeze, but you can manage it. You're smaller than I am."

If I can get there again, with her in tow.

He'd have to climb, and she couldn't, even in the right conditions. Not with the over-the-head grabs that had be done. He scooped her up, but nearly dropped her as he stood when she rattled off, "Allen, no, no, no, don't do that—FUCK!"

He froze when she jerked in his grip, sucking in her breath through clenched teeth, stifling a scream. She went stiff as a board, but he could feel her shaking slightly. Around them, the world trembled. He held his breath, waiting for things to settle. Ash held hers to let the pain pass her by.

"Oohhhhh, I wish you hadn't done that. Now that stupid piece is poking at something it shouldn't have."

"Shit."

"Careful. Your 'gentleman mask' is starting to slip." Ash teased between pants for breath.

"I hardly think this is the time for you to be cracking jokes."

"Eh. If I didn't, I'd be lamenting imminent death. Bit of a downer to think about."

"You're not going to die, we just—we just need to get you out of here and back home—"

"Allen, I've had a piece of silver in me for the past week. I'm lucky I've hung on this long…I don't think I've got much left in me to stay around any longer. By all accounts, I should be dead by now."

The painfully earnest and straight-laced way she had said all that made him bristle.

"Don't say that."

"Allen—"

"NO!"

Ash fell quiet, speechless. She stared up at him, a cross between shock and hurt mixing on her face. She was trying not to cry out, not to show any pain, not show any weakness. Even with her softening humour, she was still putting up the strong front, the mask, the seriousness. Everything she used to be when he had first met her was still somewhere in her persona, not upfront and personal like it used to be, but it was there, always lurking.

"I didn't come all this way, just to watch you die and sit idly by while it happens. I'm getting you back home, alive. And you—you have to promise, you can't just die on me!"

She stared at him, her mismatched eyes studying him for a long while. She didn't say anything for a long minute. The pain that had been clouding her cleared, if only for a moment as she answered him, "I don't make promises I can't keep. And you shouldn't either. You can't save everyone, and even things like me die out. That's just the way the world works."

"I'm not giving up, if that's what you're trying to aim at."

He started for the opening in which he had fallen through. The little flame Ash had going followed, fluttering its golden light. He was fleetingly reminded of Timcanpy and he sorely wished the little golem was here now. He braced himself and leapt, nimbly clearing through the hole and onto the old sailing ship's deck. He didn't have the same range as Lenalee had with her Dark Boots, but he had plenty of jump all on his own.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ash mumbled back after a moment. She sounded odd. Tired, even. "Is it…is it just me or is it…really cold in here…"

The little flame that had followed them for all of about thirty feet winked out and it threw Allen back into the half-darkness of the caves.

"Ash?" He could barely make out her features. He gave her a small shake. Her head lolled, but no response. "Hey. Ash. Ash!"

She didn't wake up. He started running.

OoOoOoOoOoO