It took the rest of Dethklok a good hour to find Toki. By then, the priest and women had fled the clearing and Toki had finished burying the rabbits. He'd been sitting with his back against a tree, staring catatonically when they stumbled onto him.
He said nothing as Nathan slung him over his muscular shoulder and carried him back through the woods. Nor did he say anything when Nathan helped him strip out of his snow and blood covered clothes.
When Nathan got him into one of the beds on the Hatredcopter, he glanced up at the man.
"Just get some sleep, Toki," Nathan instructed.
Toki nodded, mumbled a "Thanks yous" and promptly closed his eyes.
00
An hour later, he woke to the worst pain that he'd felt in a while. He groaned and instinctively reached out for his stomach, trying to soothe it.
It felt like a pulled muscle, but worse. He wondered if it was because of the time he'd spent in the cold. Maybe he was getting sick. He deserved it if he was, he thought to himself. He'd killed his own father! He deserved whatever was thrown his way.
With that in mind, he did forced himself to remove his hand and he did his best to keep quiet. If someone heard him, they might tell Charles, and Charles would force him to go to one of the doctors, and Toki didn't want that. Maybe if he was lucky, whatever was hurting him would kill him. Maybe his insides would collapse and he would die a painful death just like his father had.
00
Time went by. Hours. The Hatredcopter was getting close to Mordhaus. Toki was sweating, in the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. It had only gotten worse, and by then he'd resorted to biting the blanket that had covered him. He'd begun crying once again, but he'd managed to keep it silent.
He would be discovered soon if the pain didn't stop.
And then, just like that, it was over. The pain quickly abated. Strange, and somewhat frustrating - he deserved so much worse than what he'd gotten. At least the timing was good.