Chapter Fifteen:
Staying

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The monster in your head, won't surface again
Be still my child, wash away the sin
And I as future king, walk off of the edge
Hold me by my name, hold me till the end

-"Staying" by Koda

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"How long was I out for?"

Allen glanced up from the book in his hands, although he wasn't really absorbing the words. There were simply too many swimming about on the page, and it was absolutely ridiculous how many books Ash had in this place, and—and…

Oh. She was awake! And she was looking at him, but the usual clarity that marred her eyes was gone. Instead, they were clouded heavily with fatigue and pain. It was clear she was struggling just to stay awake. Allen peeled himself away from the chair he was in, crossing the way over toward her.

"Better question," she continued, watching him as he did, "is how in the hell am I still alive."

"It's preferable to being dead, isn't it?"

"I thought it was hell at first, but then I realized that I was already in it when I was alive, so there's not much difference."

She tried to laugh but it only came out as a painful wheeze. She gritted her teeth almost immediately after and groaned, a hand flying to her side. Ash lifted her shirt just enough to prod at it with her fingertips. She craned her head to look, peeling enough of the bandages Allen had stuck there to reveal the uneven line of stitches along her side.

"Ow…ow. Ow. Jesus titty-fucking Christ….ow. My question still stands."

"One of your books."

"My books saved my life," she repeated flatly, her tone indicating the unspoken question of 'how'. Another chair was beside the couch and he pulled it up, sitting back down. He stooped and picked up a thick book to show it to her. She squinted at it, blinking sluggishly.

"Oh. One of the medical texts…from the boat. Huh."

"It helped some," he admitted. "Although to be fair, I'm not a doctor, far from it. I did my best and hoped I wasn't hurting you further while trying to help you."

"What exactly did you do?" Her voice dropped to a hush.

He hesitated, glancing at the front of the medical book. It had a compiled group of pictures and text on it, most of them pertaining to the medical history and anatomy of the human body.

"I had to get the silver out of you," he paused, closing his eyes as he remembered the all the damage that a tiny pinprick of silver had done to her insides. The smell of burning flesh had not been pleasant and it still made him queasy to recall. She had been right back in the cave: she was lucky to still be alive after nearly a week of exposure to silver. "It was burning everything it touched."

"That's what silver does to us werewolf folk," Ash sighed, closing her eyes. She was still so pale. She's only been awake for a few minutes, but she was already slick with sweat. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. Ash reached over and held out her hand, palm up, her eyes peeking open just enough to look at him. He saw the effort was draining, her entire arm was shaking. If one little piece of silver did this much damage to her, make even Ash tired and weak like this, he would hate to see what anything bigger than that sliver of blade tip could do to her.

"Hey. Thank you. I dunno how you did it, but…thank you."

Allen stared for only a moment, before reaching out and grasping her hand in his without missing a beat. He smiled tentatively yet warmly back at her. "You're welcome."

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"I'm booooooored."

"You're not going out. Doctor's orders."

"You're a terrible doctor and you're not the Doctor."

"What?"

She, predictably, ignored his questioning look accompanied by his inquiry.

"Just a walk around the pine forest, nowhere sketchy or dangerous, I promise. C'mon."

"And set yourself back at square one after all that effort I took in keeping you alive? I don't think so, Ash."

"Ugh. You're horrible, keeping me pent up like this. Absolutely horrible." Ash made more exasperated noises and a few others that suspiciously sounded like curses thrown his way for good measure.

"Oh, however will I survive with the guilt? One step at a time, I suppose," he remarked back.

She fell silent, if only for a few minutes.

"I got a joke. So, this pirate walks into a bar with the helm of his ship on his crotch."

"This isn't one of your terrible pun jokes, is it?"

"Shut up! It's funny, just wait. So the barkeep watches the pirate come in and sees the helm and goes, 'What's with the wheel, pal?' and the pirate goes, 'Argghhh, it's driving me nuts!'" Ash dissolved into a fit of giggles. Allen snorted.

"That—that was terrible!"

"I got a better one, promise! So, what's a pirate's favourite letter?"

He thought on it, deciding to humour Ash just a little. "Is it 'R'?"

She grinned at him from the couch. "Nope! It be the 'C'!"

"That was even worse! Where do you get these terrible jokes?" He was still smiling nonetheless, bad jokes or not. Ash was busy alternating between laughing and holding her side in pain.

"A book in my room! Go get it! I want to read more off!"

"I think not," he snickered. "You might hurt yourself laughing and then I'd have to redo your stitches. And I warn you, I'm not that great at them. I might mess them up again."

"Awww, but it'll be worth it!"

"Not when you end up a bleeding mess on the floor."

"Buzzkill!"

He snickered and shrugged. She pouted. Actual, one-hundred-percent-genuine, pouted.

"You have awful bedside manner."

"Trying to keep you from falling to pieces from bad jokes should count as 'good' bedside manner."

"Buzzkill," she stated again with more emphasis. He laughed.

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"No, no, no, what do you think you're doing?"

"It's not gymnastics, that's for sure. I'm not that flexible, not anymore."

This wasn't the first time Allen has caught her trying to sneak around—more like hobble, really—all over the place when he wasn't looking. It was like baby-sitting a child; she wouldn't listen worth a damn. She'd always flash him a mischievous, impish grin when he caught her. On the other hand, she'd always have a sly, smug one when he didn't but suspected she had been up and about. Ash made for an incredibly terrible patient. She hated sitting still, and being confined like she has been was probably torture to her.

She scoffed and made a show of rolling her eyes. Ash started back up a flurry of punches, sliding her pawed feet forward as she did. She kept herself low and small, swinging her hips in the same direction of her hits, like she was fighting an invisible opponent. He started forward, to try and stop her, his fingers just barely brushing her shoulder—

—only for him to end up being grabbed from over her shoulder and thrown bodily forward onto his back. The blow of it sent the air gushing from his lungs. An iron band wrapped around his chest, and something else pressed up against his throat. When the spots stopped dancing across his vision, Ash's face swam into view, a fire glittering in her eyes and her mouth parted just enough that he could make out the tips of her elongated canines and teeth bared in a snarl.

"Don't grab me like that ever again."

He swallowed thickly, eyes wide. Carefully, she lifted whatever it was that had been against his neck and he was stunned to see a knife in her hand. When had she drawn that? Where did she draw it from, even?

She lifted herself up to her feet, shoving the knife into a sheath strapped to her upper thigh before holding a hand out to help him up. He eyed it suspiciously.

"You're not going to throw me again, are you?"

"Depends. You gonna try and latch onto me like you did a moment ago?"

"I was trying to stop you, you're still healing up—"

"I've been cooped up for four weeks because you won't let me leave. I've humoured you, but I'm getting better. See?" She lifted her shirt up, just enough to show her side. Her stitches had only just been removed a few days prior. The places he'd stitched up were puckered, bright pink scars but they were beginning to heal. No swelling, no pus, no infection. He doubted a scar would remain from the stitches. Only what the silver had touched would scar.

"I was cooped up for almost two months when my leg broke," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And you were a nightmare, trying to crutch around even when I told you not to."

"This is revenge, isn't it?"

"Partly, yes. I'm just proving that I'm a worse patient than you are." She winked and wriggled her fingers at him, offering her hand again. "I won't throw you so long as you don't grab me like that again."

He took her offered her and she lifted him up with laughable ease like he was a ragdoll. He frowned at her.

"I barely touched you."

"You touched the wrong place," she simply said. He opened his mouth to argue, but she shushed him. "Just…just don't grab my shoulder again. Okay?"

She turned away, already settling back into her earlier position when he asked, "What's really wrong with your shoulders, Ash?"

She froze up, turned away from him, but he recognized the tension in the air. She didn't straighten up, not at first. When she did, it was slow and deliberate. Without a word, she yanked the collar of her t-shirt down covering the left shoulder, showing off a mess of scar tissue beneath. A pattern emerged and it clicked several seconds later: it was a giant bite mark. He remembered her in her fur, with the wolfish face, and the scars decorating her body. There had been many of them made by claws raking her arms, her belly, and the bites that decorated her legs, her shoulders…

The one on her left shoulder extended well past her collarbone and the other half of it encompassed the other side to her back. Its circumference was too large to be one of the raptors' but smaller than any of the other predators on the island. It didn't even look like a dinosaur bite. He's seen plenty of those, but this was almost akin to a dog's.

"What…?"

Her earlier humour had drained from her face. She watched him like a raptor, unblinking and edgy.

"It's why I can't lift my arm up past shoulder height. It's why I can't climb, or throw hits higher than I currently can. I don't like it when somebody touches me there, okay?"

"I just…I didn't really know. How did that happen?"

"How do you think I became a werewolf, Allen?"

She sighed, glancing at her hands. She wasn't wearing her bracers, and for once, he could see her forearms. She was almost always wearing them, even here at home. He could see more scars lining her left forearm—more made by claws—and both her wrists were covered in burns.

Silver burns, he now recognized them as. She'd been bound by something silver on both wrists, once upon a time.

"I don't remember the night it happened. I just…remember the pain. The pain and the fear and-and the helplessness and…and the loss of control." She shook her head, her face schooled into a hardened scowl. "It completely fucked me up, I remember that just fine." Ash scoffed, shaking her head. "I don't even know why I told you, I don't like talking about it, but you just…have this annoying habit of somehow dragging stuff out of me."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not trying to."

"Mm-hmm," she peeked up at him from under her eyelashes, looking as unamused as she possibly could.

"I'm glad you told me, though."

She narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to continue. Suspicion lined her gaze.

"I always wondered why you would never climb. Why you couldn't reach above your shoulders. You've given me the bare minimum in the past, true, but never really why that was and…I'm glad I at least know why now. After living here for almost four years, I would hope you'd trust me enough to tell me, but…"

She didn't answer him and somehow, her silence was worse than any sharp-tongued remark she could ever make. He hoped she'd say something, but she simply let it drag on until his faint smile dropped and she looked away.

"You don't, do you?" He said, feeling his heart sink at the realization.

"Trust is something I don't dole out easily."

He stared at her in dismay.

"Do you trust anyone?"

Four years and she didn't trust him at all, not even a little? Even after everything that's happened? After everything she's done for him and he for her in return? Not that he was keeping track, mind, but still! It was the principle of the matter.

"Allen—"

"You trust the raptors more than you do me—"

"Of course I trust them more, I've been with them for decades! Decades! You don't have that long! You'll grow old or you'll be killed by this fucking island, while they'll just keep resetting like they always do! I've lost them more times than I care to count, and once Himiko comes back, so does everything and everyone else that hasn't become a part of this place!"

"You're just afraid, aren't you? You're afraid to trust anyone and I still don't understand why." He prodded more firmly. There was more to this, there had to be.

"I just told you why—"

"You're scared that if you trust me, then I'll leave or-or die suddenly and then what? You'll feel it's a wasted effort?"

"Yes!"

She looked about as shocked as he felt and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. She dropped her gaze and wouldn't meet his for good long minute.

"You're human. One day I'll blink and you'll be gone and I'll…I'll still be the same. Day in and day out and then one day after that, I'll forget you, like everyone else that's come through. I'll forget when we met and everything that's happened between us. One day I'll forget about this too, what's happening between us, right now. I'll…be someone else. Again. I don't want it to, but it's going to happen. And I can't stop it. I'm more scared of that than I am of opening up to someone."

"Then why let that stop you?"

"Because I'll forget all the good things and then…then I won't have anything left to remember about you. So what's the point?" He was at a loss, and exasperated. And maybe a little scared that she knew she'd forget everything that's happened to the both of them in time. That didn't mean she had to be a coward about it, though.

"I didn't think of you as someone who gave up so easily."

"Apparently, you don't really know me, then." Ash shook her head and held up her hands, shaking them. "I…I got to get out of here. I need some air."

She turned on her heel, quickly stalking toward the exit.

"I know enough," he called after her. She kept walking. "I know you love bow hunting. You don't kill for the fun of it, but you practice, whenever you can and you love to teach it to me, whether you'll admit to that last part or not. I always hear it in your voice, even when you think you're being neutral. I know you love coffee, you talk about it all the time and how you miss it, and you love all the dinosaurs on this island, especially the raptors and the rexes. I know you love reading and you…you love working with your hands, like with drawing and whittling, and you love exploring this island, even if you already know every inch of it. You might hate that you're trapped here, but you're always finding something new, and I know you love that. For God's sakes, you went climbing into a bunch of sea caves, just to find some treasure, if not for yourself, but for me! I never asked you to, but you did it anyways!"

Ash didn't slow. She was almost to the door. His heart pounded away, anxious that he didn't seem to be getting through to her at all.

"And, and I know that you have nightmares, Ash. And that afterwards, you cry. I pretend not to notice, because…I know how much you'd hate it if I tried to come comfort or talk to you after the fact. You'd hate it if I tried, because you'd probably think I was coddling you. But I know you wake up and you're crying. And sometimes, I wish that for once, I could just help you and that you'd let me help, even if meant just sitting there and I can't…because you'd probably chase me away."

Ash reduced her pace. It encouraged him to continue. He took a few steps after her.

"I know you would do anything to save anyone who washed up on the shores of Yamatai. You'd sacrifice yourself if it meant saving just one person. You've put yourself in harm's way for my sake, on far too many occasions. You could have left me for dead or to fend for myself just as many times, and yet you pulled through and refused to let that happen. Even when there were times I should have been seriously injured or possibly even killed. You could have let me drown when I fell off the cliffs with the Oni. You could have let the Compies eat me after they poisoned me. You could have let the Solarii try to kill me the night I came to Yamatai. You could have forced me on a raft, shoved me out to sea, and left me to fend for myself. There were so many times you could done any of that—but you didn't. Why would you put any effort into any of that at all?"

Ash stopped completely, mere feet away from the door. She still wouldn't face him, but he knew she was listening now. Emboldened by this, he took a few cautious steps closer toward her, closing the distance.

"In fact, you apparently should have just let me go about my own way, because you don't like people, according to what you've told me before. I think you were trying your hardest to turn me away, to make me want to leave on my own if you couldn't force me. Wouldn't force me, even. You—you always gave me a choice. A choice to pick right or to screw up, but you always gave me a choice nonetheless."

She cocked her head, just enough to the side to flick her ear a little more in his direction. Her hair was a tumbled mess down her back, all twined and curled at the red-tipped ends and her tail flicked a little. He realized it's been some time since she's scraped it all up into her signature ponytail.

"You're so stubborn, I'm starting to think you just don't want to admit you do trust me, even it's just a little. You've brought me on hunts; you wouldn't trust anyone who just showed up here to do that. Nor would you allow them to watch your back when there's Solarii or Oni out patrolling. I know you can take care of yourself just fine—but the fact that you've let me come out with you plenty of times, without checking over your shoulder to make sure I'm not the type to stab you in the back—I think that says more than what you're saying now. Or what you're not saying, really."

She scoffed and lurched forward, her hand latched on the door handle.

"I suppose your stubbornness is just one of many things that I really admire about you."

She froze.

"Take it back."

He could barely make out what she said. He blinked at her, momentarily confused.

"Take it back," she repeated, louder, firmer. "Take that back right now."

He studied her backside before answering, "No. I won't."

"Allen Walker, you had better take that back!"

"Or what?"

She whirled on him, a thunderous expression painting her face like an oncoming storm.

"You don't get to say that kind of wishy-washy sentimental bullshit to-to-to a fucking monster like me—you just can't!" Beneath her fury, he could hear the exasperation in her voice, a hint of desperation and terror underneath it all. That startled him. She was afraid. "There is nothing good to like or admire about me."

"You can't make me feel any other way than what I do, Ash."

"And you're clearly an idiot, because you don't really know me. You don't know what I'm capable of and if you really did, you're goddamned right you'd be fucking scared of me, like you should be."

"I've seen plenty of what you're capable of and what you can do. You've healed from horrible injuries and summoned infernos—anyone would be terrified of that—"

"You haven't seen me burn this entire island while everyone was still on it before."

A silence followed in the wake of her words, so palpable and thick that for a moment, it felt like the world around them had suddenly held its breath. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time again, a guardedness masking all emotions, except for the furious vexation aimed directly at him. It stunned him long enough for her to take advantage of his silence and kept on going.

"You don't know how it feels to live on this fucking island, in this hellhole, for hundreds of years, Allen. Hundreds. You can't even begin imagine it, and pardon me if I say that I made a judgement error and went a little nuts for a while. I burned this place—all of it—to the fucking ground. And I walked through the fire until there was nothing but ashes left. So go ahead, and look me in the eye and tell me that again. Tell me how you could see anything worthwhile or redemptive about me while looking me in the eye."

He said nothing, unable to find any words at all to retaliate in kind. Allen was stupefied at the declaration. He just kept staring and nearly a minute later, she took advantage of his ensuing silence.

"There's a reason they call me 'Fire Walker' for a reason, Allen. Even if they don't quite remember the actual events, they somehow know what I've done."

It hurt to breath. An ironclad vice had his lungs in its grip once more and just kept squeezing until it hurt to try. She kept him pinned in that mismatched, unblinking gaze, just waiting. When he failed to answer, she snorted.

"You couldn't possibly ever see any kind of redemption, coming back from something like that. Don't even pretend to try. There's no coming back from doing something like that. None."

She was gone before he could answer or take his next breath. Out the door she went and he was left alone.

Again.

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Why was he out here, looking for her?

He kept asking himself that, even as he traversed deeper and deeper still into the forests, the mountains, across the treacherous rivers, through the various ruins. The raptors were oddly scarce. Or maybe she'd taken all of them with her, to keep him from tracking her.

If there was one thing she wasn't, it was stupid. She knew every inch of this island, while he didn't. Thinking about this entire place—from the low-rising forests and beaches, to the high peaked mountains and the tall spired radio tower—had once burned, completely and utterly to nothing but ash and dust and melted slag…

He couldn't imagine her being capable of it, in spite of her incredible powers. In spite of the person he's come to know.

And yet…he didn't doubt her claims. This very ground that he walked she claimed to have turned to molten slag and fragile dust. Allen stopped in his tracks, gazing around the forest that encompassed him. What am I doing?

She had left. She walked away from him. She was always one for actions rather than words. The fact that she had been the one to leave should have been a clear enough message.

I never should have said anything, he thought at first, before amending, I never should have stayed this long. She was right.

She hadn't wanted him around in the first place. Ash wanted nothing more than to be alone. She was used to it. She's only ever tolerated him. Four years was nothing to her. She could afford the patience, because in time…she knew she'd forget. Why did I bother in the first place?

Allen turned on his heel, shouldering his pack more securely as he doubled back on his path, heading toward the beach.

He didn't see the Solarii brothers closing in on him until the first bullet made contact with his shoulder.

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They were dancing. If one could call hopping around, and throwing their fists in the air whilst cheering 'dancing'. It was the closest thing he could call it.

All wild-eyed and feral grins, they were watching him with expectant gazes, leering hungrily. He recognized one of the Solarii brothers, and he was leading from the front, a gun in one hand and a blazing torch in the other. It was the Russian man whom Allen had met his first night on Yamatai almost four years ago. He had the same scratchy beard, rough voice, and blue coat as he did that very night. Ash had called him Nikolai on several occasions.

Nikolai turned his back on Allen and addressed the gathered Solarii before him. They fell to a hush, diverting their attention from Allen. They had him tied to a makeshift post, his arms bound behind it, and a pyre was built underneath him. His shoulder hurt like nobody's business where he had been shot. They even had a gag around his mouth. How lovely.

"Brothers! Before us now is one of the fucking monsters that killed so many of our own! We might not be able to kill that Fire Walker beast, but we can kill this one! This one still bleeds after being shot." Nikolai glanced over his shoulder at Allen and sneered. Allen glared back.

It was Ash who had killed the Solarii, obliterated them, even. Allen had never so much as raised a claw with the intent to kill a Solarii. Scare or incapacitate, maybe. But that was the extent of it all. It's her you'd want up here. Not that trying to burn her would do anything except make her mad. Or laugh at your attempts, even.

Allen invoked his Innocence. They couldn't see his hands, not with them bound behind his back and the Solarii were to his front. That was a small blessing. The blades that replaced his fingers bit into the ropes binding him easily. Nikolai had his back turned to Allen once again, and the Solarii were equally focused on the Russian. He was rousing them into such an excited frenzy, they were practically frothing at the mouth. Then suddenly, Nikolai turned and tossed the torch onto the pyre beneath Allen's feet and it went up in a hurried blaze. At the same time as the fire roared to life, the raptors struck.

They came out of nowhere, screaming shrilly and leaping onto the Solarii from out of the growing darkness. Gunshots fired off in sharp staccato cracks, adding to the cacophony. The pack bellowed and screamed together as one. Allen stared in shock before he realized he needed to stop gawking and—

"Shit!"

He sliced through the last of the ropes and tumbled off the pyre, smacking at his leg. The fire had caught onto it, and he winced as it finally died. His pant leg was a tattered, blackened mess and his leg was burnt now. The cool evening air bit at his burnt, tender flesh.

"Damn it!"

Something clicked in front of him and he glanced up to see Nikolai standing over him, a gun pointed at Allen's head. Nikolai was looking bedraggled and bloodied and there was a harsh light in his eyes. He started to say something, but a very large and very feathered something slammed into him, sending him into a fit of screaming cries instead. A gush of hot air puffed against his other cheek and Allen jumped, turning to see Clover right by his face. She peered down at him with bright golden eyes. She regarded him carefully as she purred and gently bumped his cheek with her snout.

Another raptor came trotting into view. Allen recognized the muted grey and faded purple markings. Mana. The Dakotaraptor snapped his jaws and timbered, craning his neck to look at Allen. Clover was sniffing his leg. She tried licking it, but Allen jerked away and pushed her snout from it.

"Stop that," he said. The fire that engulfed the pyre screeched and cracked beside them. Clover snarled and Mana cough-barked. The glow of the fire shivered and then quite abruptly, changed colours to a mix of pale icy blue and silvery-white. The raptors fell into a sudden hush, ceasing all noise.

The fire crept its way off the blackened wood, not even leaving a trace of glowing embers behind. Along the uneven ground it slithered, until it changed from untamed, hungry flickers to an uncoiled snake. The other raptors in the clearing cough-barked to one another and trotted out of the ghostly fire's path. Some were dragging still-conscious Solarii with them. One of them was beating on Spectre's snout feebly with his fist. The white raptor snarled and snapped his jaws on the man's fist and crushed it, sending the Solarii into another round of howls and screams.

All the while, the fire didn't deter from its path. Smoke trailed behind wherever it slithered until it rose its head and morphed into yet another shape. Bigger, bulkier, more limbs. More teeth. It retained its silvery-white and icy-blue hue however, as it transformed until it became something that Allen recognized.

"Carmilla," he said quietly. Just like Flame-Báthory, Flame-Carmilla was almost spot-on in appearance, right down to the imitation of scales and osteoderms. Even Flame-Carmilla's eyes were bright red and glittering like rubies. Flame-Carmilla opened its jaws into a fire-roar, and it was there that Allen could detect the small anomalies: the guttering tips of the teeth, the flickering horns above the eyes, the natural twitch of fire. It wasn't an absolute perfect imitation after all, but it was close enough in size that it shut the Solarii up into a stupefied, horrified hush. Even the man with his hand caught in Spectre's mouth was struggling to stay quiet.

That was when he noticed Ash, standing at the base of the flame-conjured dinosaur's feet, shrouded in a mantle of white fire, haloed in its light. She started forward toward the clearing, and Flame-Carmilla followed in her wake. The ground didn't shudder with the weight of the fake-fire dinosaur, but it might as well have. The men were trembling enough as it was. The raptors fled in the wake of fire, silent as ghosts. When Allen looked around, Clover and Mana were gone.

Ash stopped just a few feet shy of the first Solarii brother, her bow drawn and an arrow nocked back.

"I suggest you take your wounded and flee. This is your one and only chance. And I promise you, here and now, if I see your hands touch metal, I swear by my shiny little arrowhead, I will end you." Her voice was low but it rumbled far enough for even him, the furthest one out, to hear. "NOW GIT!"

Her last words boomed like thunder.

Those who could run, they ran. Those who couldn't were dragged away by others. They crashed through the forest until the sounds of their retreat faded. When the stillness came again, it was almost oppressive.

They were alone. Ash had put away her bow and arrow. Flame-Carmilla faded into tatters until there was nothing but free-floating embers left. Eventually those too disappeared as dying scraps of light in the darkness. The light in the sky was barely enough to see her by when all was said and done. She had disappearing from sight as well, until she was nothing but a grey shadow and quickly vanishing into the background as the sun was setting. The raptors were beside her, having glided in under the cover of the darkness. She turned away, retreating just as quickly as she had arrived.

"Ash!"

She didn't stop. He pushed himself to his feet, intent on following, but he gasped when a biting pain lanced up his leg. The burn. He'd forgotten about it in the wake of the impressive fiery display. He faltered in his pursuit. When he was back on his feet, taking limping steps, she was already gone. When he reached the tree line in the direction she'd gone, he found her pack, her bow, and her quiver left behind. Allen stared off into the growing darkness that shrouded the forest and the mountains beyond.

Ash never spared the Solarii if she could help it.

So what had changed?

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He had to take a slower route to the beach, but he made it one piece and at night no less. Nothing seemed to greet him in the interim, for which he was grateful for and also, slightly suspicious. He's travelled the island at night before, and he almost always ran into something. Allen decided not to question it for now. Maybe later, when he was gone and out of harm's way.

When he made it to the old bunker he was shocked to find the camp already set up for him. And on the sand below the structure, sitting neat and pretty was a raft, already built up and sea-worthy, coupled with sturdy-looking oars. Allen stared at the entire setup for a good full minute. It didn't take him long to connect it to Ash having come here first—who else would it have been—and she must have planned for this for quite some time.

She planned on my leaving regardless of what I did or say. She knew one day I'd…

He shook the thoughts from his head. The soon he left, all the better. If she wanted to be left alone, he'd gladly oblige. She'd already made it clear that she wanted nothing else of him.

Allen took a moment to check inventory in the pack he'd been left. The only thing he knew for sure that was inside it was a medical first aid kid. He had used that to fix up his leg and shoulder and moved on. Now that he had a moment to spare, he could actually see if he had provisions or not.

Apparently, Ash had thought of that too. There was plenty of food and clean water stored in the pack. There was also a clean pair of extra clothes, including his Black Order coat...

And there were other things as well, such as the calendar she had made him, and the trinkets and coins she'd risked her life for from the sea caves. There was the whittled raptors she'd made by hand and painted with care and attention to detail and had given to him as gifts. There was a few teeth from Báthory and Carmilla both in a Trike-skin leather pouch. And there, at the bottom of the pack…the silver dagger that Ash had landed on from the sea caves. The tip was broken off. He stared at it for the longest time. That was almost a month ago, nearly to the day…

Allen yanked it out, stood, and wound up his arm, tossing the damned thing as far as he could, straight into the ocean. It flew far, but eventually it began falling, way out beyond the craggy rock barriers that littered the bay. He stared at the cold grey waters for a long while, his fists clenched at his side. After a while, he returned to packing everything back up, shouldered his pack, left hers behind, and put out the campfire that had been made for him. It was time for him to leave.

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The waves were choppy, as though they were determined to overthrow the raft and reclaim him, send him back by tide and current to the shores of Yamatai. He was even more determined to get away. He struggled past the rickety, salt-covered docks and the old barnacle-encrusted sailing ship that marked the end of the bay. His shoulder throbbed with the effort of fighting the water, and he could already feel blood seeping past the bandage he had hastily tied there.

Looking at the sailing vessel gave him pause. It was a shame it wasn't intact. It'd be nice to sail away if it were, instead of pumping a paddle on a raft that was threatening to be bowled over any moment now. He'd be a lot drier, too. The skies were clear for once, with no sign of a storm on the horizon.

A lonesome roar sounded off behind him, back toward the beach. He whirled, seeing Carmilla and Báthory standing side by side, ankle deep in the water. Some of the raptors were scattered along the sands, and he could just barely make out their warbles. They looked like tiny birds from this distance, scrambling about the legs of giants. A cough-bark sounded off above him and he craned his neck to see another raptor, crouched on the gunwale of the crumbling sailing vessel.

Clover.

She chittered at him, her feathers puffing up until she was nothing but a ball of feather fluff, her crest nearly lost in it all.

"I'm sorry, Clover, but…she doesn't want me here anymore. And I think it's best if I left."

Clover wailed at him and flapped her feathered arms at him. It took him a moment before he came to understand that she was signing to him. Her language was limited, but the modified sign was easy to comprehend: she swooped her arm in an arc toward her breast. She repeated it several times before screaming and disappearing from sight. She reappeared further away, closer toward shore on another part of the ship, as though enticing him to follow and repeated the sign.

Come back.

He stared after the raptor, at a loss for words. Clever girl.

Even if he had anything left to say, they would remain the same. Ash wanted him gone. She always has. She just got better at hiding her intentions from him. But the raptors, they never acted like this, not ever. Not in his four years of being here. This display was…unusual. Even for Báthory and Carmilla, who were still wailing mournfully from the beach, this was uncommon.

Allen looked between Clover's frantic signs and cough-barks, to the others still patrolling the beaches. They were growing smaller the further out he got. The sea was finally calmer as well, as though relenting that he was leaving. He thought back to the supplies in his pack and realized most of it had been more sentimental than dutiful to survival. Regardless, she hadn't needed to pack him anything, let alone come help him. He could have gotten away from the Solarii just fine. She knew it as well as he did.

She had chased away the Solarii in spite of the fact that he would have gotten loose on his own and could have escaped. She had, once again, stepped in when she hadn't needed to. Ash didn't even kill any of them—not directly, anyway—despite her protests that that was all they should ever do when they come across the bastards.

She had the raft and the campsite ready and built for him, waiting. He could have chosen to take it or leave it. Ash had even, quite possibly, sent the raptors and Báthory and Carmilla out to say their goodbyes. A bunch of dinosaurs, who just like their werewolf companion, would eventually forget him but had grown to know and tolerate him as an equal.

So why bother with me, ever again, if you were going to wash your hands of me?

What had changed?

Allen cursed under his breath the entire way as he turned the raft right around and headed back to shore.

Something wasn't adding up.

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