« III »

Anger

The next few days after were spent awkwardly tip-toeing around each other, so to speak, and getting more comfortable with another presence from day to day. You can imagine there would be a lot of moments like "I have to pee; where is your toilet?", showering, and changing clothes. The two had to acclimatise to not only the environment but to each other's needs, and this resulted in the formation of a routine. Guide would be the one to get necessities as Mercy was ill equipped to handle the cold weather of the mountains, and she would basically keep house or do nothing until the man of the house returned. This housewife and bread-winner gig continued on for roughly a week until one supper, where our dear Guide let slip where he came from…

William's expression tightened, a cross or injured look warping his features from the kind and sympathetic young man that she was familiar with, to a frightening and spiteful stranger.

So, she dropped it.

…

An interesting point may be how they sorted out the sleeping arrangements. Well, because of there only being one bed, of course it was either one person volunteered to sleep on the floor or they share the only bed (which, was big enough to accommodate two, surprisingly). Not willing to force the other onto the dirt floor, for that's what it genuinely was (dirt and stone), each understood the situation and generally kept to their respective sides of the bed. No one wanted to sleep on that dusty, dirty surface. Who knows what you would contract there. Bugs? Infection? It was probably cold, too.

That night however, she needed to know. She didn't understand why, but at seeing her companion's pain, something inside her drove her to seek it out. Were her intentions to help him or was it for her own devices? Even she did not comprehend the answer to that question. Though, she would without a doubt admit to worrying about him. Even if she asked for a selfish reason, if she could ease that pain by letting him talk about it, she would be doubly satisfied.

With that resolution in mind, she sat up on the bed and turned to him. Feeling and hearing her restless shifting, the man turned to face her with exasperation but just as well as curiosity.

"Why are you so upset when I mention that place?" She murmured into the dark.

That tense feeling again. She couldn't see his face, only his silhouette, but it shook her. It was raw pain and fear radiating from that unnaturally stiff frame. Still, she pressed on. "William?"

He exhaled noisily and moved to get out of bed, wanting to escape from the situation that was bound to go downhill soon, when a feeling of overwhelming desperation led the thin woman's arms—in nearly an instinctual manner—to somehow pinning his shoulders to the bed. Dimly Mercy could see the Guide's unhappy and scowling mouth, and started immediately regretting her actions. She should apologize, she knew, but still…

What ejected from her lips instead was the quiet and pleading word, "Please …"

A low groan from his lungs sent tingling vibrations through her arms and she faltered yet obstinately held on. He was not trusting himself to speak without the immensely bitter, ugly feelings rising in his belly. His answer was substituted with a shake of his head indicating no, he didn't want to talk about it. Either she didn't see it or didn't pay it any mind because again she spoke.

"Please tell me, William." But he was silent, for if he opened his trap he was afraid she'd be bitten for what it had to say.

…

"Let's talk about it." She tried again after a while, and was sounding increasingly upset as this went on, as was he, though she couldn't really tell from his deathly silence.

Finally, a pitiful, "I wish you would trust me…" and something in him snapped.

She yelped when he suddenly grabbed her and threw her weight over. Their bodies rolled on the bed until his was the body hovering on top. His weight bore down on her and pinned her to the mattress, his legs between hers, his hands gripping her wrists tightly, and his elbows digging into her arms. It wasn't incredibly painful, more surprising than anything, but it would most likely bruise.

"It h-urts…" she whispered timidly, the quietly proposed objection barely coherent.

His face was closer now, and she could see the intense emotions twisting his face. It matched the feeling that had been echoing in her chest earlier.

"Please, what?" He mockingly asked.

The Guide went on answering himself, anyway, "Please tell you the pathetic story of the man who got disowned by his family, beaten by the town and sentenced to hang? Is it better to tell you that I am branded a criminal by the only nearby society? All for the stupid reason of me sharing a stupid dream of God telling me to come find someone—which is YOU, by the way!"

He seethed, and he cried, not seeming to really see her though he was looking straight at her. The emotions hit him hard and the words couldn't stop tumbling out before he could stop them. "Suddenly I have a strange dream and they accuse me of consorting with the devil! If you didn't exist, I might be still sitting at home with my family right now or continuing study at the library, or even be bedding the woman I thought I would marry one day! Do you suppose it best to tell you that," He was breathless by the end of his rant, forcing a name hoarsely through his throat. "Mercy?"

Tears were streaming down his face, and when he heard the soft 'plink' of a stray tear of his hitting a wet cheek far below, he realized, focusing bleary eyes though the curtain of saltwater, she was crying as well.

"I'm … I'm so-rryy."

Reality came back around and punched him in the gut. With every word she spoke, it was like a knife stabbing into his chest. The remorse was a painful reminder of who he was, quite literally, releasing his long pent up grief on.

"I d- didn't kno-w. I do'n't know anyything anymo-re. I do-n't know if I h-have family, I d-don't even know my own name! I jusst kno-w I care about you and want-t to help … I'm u … useless like alwayss."

The Guide was stunned at the information she divulged about exactly how lost she really was. It took a few seconds to wrap his head around it and how it affected their situation, and it was only after that, that another knife was added to the figurative bleeding wound.

He had to take a minute to recover, and so did she. Their crying and sniffles filled the tense silence until they started fading away into slight hiccups. To his embarrassment, the man finally realized their position and her discomfort. Easing his weight and grip off of her, he brought his fingers to brush against her still wet cheeks. He cringed as she flinched in reaction, shrinking away.

Becoming sober and exceedingly gentle, the supposed-to-be Guide murmured, "No… I really have become the criminal they wanted me to be, without even realizing…" He paused, trying once more to touch her cheek, and this time she let him wipe the remnants of tears from her pale cheeks. He frowned. "I'm sorry. I've never told you how grateful I am… I thought I was really crazy and going to die alone in exile, but you actually arrived, and stayed by my side. You didn't judge me, you trusted me even, though I didn't explain at all who I was aside from my name."

Her lips quivered as she quietly listened, and he smiled sadly as he went on to say, "It does hurt—God, does it—to remember the times before I came here, but I really am thankful to you… You aren't useless, and if I could turn back time I would punch myself for making you think that."

There was a brief quiet as he waited for her to say something, and she struggled to find something to say.

Her feelings were hurt by him, her body bruised by him, but now she at last understood the meaning of his pain. While the tentative trust in him was shattered, for now, she found herself actually accepting him despite all that he said in anger.

"Okay…" Was all she could honestly say in the end, to sum up her thoughts.

His mind raced for something more to say, anything to win her forgiveness if not her trust back again.

"How about…" He swallowed, dreading the plan he had in mind, "I introduce you to my mother? She can help you get clothes, better ones, and for the weather as well.

Granted, he hadn't seen his mother in forever, but she was the only person he trusted in that village.

He warily eyed her face for any negative reactions. Instead, fortunately, she smiled.

"I think I'd like that …"

Sighing in relief, he got off her—coughing in embarrassment as he realized he had been still hovering over her until now—and the two exhaustively collapsed into heavy slumbers.

-x-

To Town

-x-

The next morning the "wife-beater" and "useless housewife" both layered up as best they could. The Guide had fashioned cloaks for them both from the blankets, a shoddy but good enough job to pass quickly through the village. He had made sure they had hoods to hide their faces, for their (particularly his) concealment as well as protection from the cold. Mercy also had been reintroduced to the backpack she had been dropped from the sky with, though nothing in it seemed to trigger any lost memories.

"This isn't going to be a particularly pleasant or safe trip, Mercy." He warned. "Even once we reach town."

"I know." She said with determination.

He eyed her contemplatively, with her unaware of course, while she fussed over preparations to leave. Her cheeks were already flushed in excitement without having even stepped outside yet, and as she bundled up in a cloak with that chipper excitement, she looked childish… Perhaps even cute. A grin fought its way onto his face.

"William?" She turned to look at him, soft lips puckered in uncertainty. Her delicate eyebrows furrowed questioningly. He stared. "Are you alright, William?"

"Um, oh, yes. Ready to go then?" He smoothed over to cover his moment of fluster.

There were a few midpoints between the shack and the target destination, however that didn't lessen the urgency of each segment of the trek. The first segment was especially long, and it took four hours. A short rest was in order for the weary pair, thankful that no enemies had been encountered so far. Soon it was noon time and they ate as well, rationing the food they had prepared beforehand. Erasing any evidence of them being there, they departed again.

"A hiking we all go, a hiking we all go!" Mercy sung. Guide snorted at her attempt at levity.

The snow seemed to dissipate more the further they descended from the snowy plateau in the mountains. Looking out ahead, the experienced man called out to her, who followed a few metres behind. "We should be careful here, this is dangerous territory unlike any you've seen. Unfortunately, that advice goes for your singing too."

This next segment was shorter distance-wise, though not necessarily temporally, as it took them right through the corruption in all its ebonstone and death-pit glory. Since they were only armed with copper swords and tools, the duo made sure to avoid open areas where flying Eater of Souls could easily target them. The arduous process of weaving through the trees—they figured it would be harder for soul eaters to fly at them with all the obstacles—and anxiously watching their surroundings with paranoia took its toll on them.

Eventually they were ambushed by a couple Eater of Souls.

"Behind you!" Mercy shrieked in fear, raising her sword in trembling hands as she pointed over his shoulder, behind him. Guide whirled around, raising his axe.

A gaping mouth of rotting flesh set with rows of menacingly long and sharp teeth lunged at him. Gulping, he brought back his axe and waited for it to come closer. With the right timing, he slammed the sharpened edge into the side of its mouth and sent it careening off at an angle into the dark of the forest. A promise of death screeched from the concealing shadows of the treeline, sending chills down their spines.

"Aghh!" Mercy cried out suddenly, "No! No …"

Guide turned his head to his companion to find his companion struggling with another Eater of Souls. Her shortsword was needling its head, but it stubbornly pushed forward and knocked her to the ground. As he was rushing forward to help, the hideous creature was already snapping its jaws, and it clamped down through the cloak on the fallen woman's side. Her shrill cry of pain caused him to wince, and she desperately shoved the sword deeper into its body in hope that it would die before she did. Wary of accidentally injuring Mercy, the axe in his hands pulled back and with both hands a mighty swing nearly chopped straight through the offender's lower body. A putrid, disgusting stench filled the air as it bled all sorts of nasty bits from the gaping gash.

Mercy was crying as the monster that was still latched onto her started dying. "Get … get it off …"

He frowned worriedly as he bent down to examine the puncture wound. Would it bleed heavily once he released her? But who knew what sort of infection she might get the longer he kept the beast's teeth in her? Not seeing any other options, he dislodged the carcass from his injured companion. Once she was free, her body trembled weakly as she looked up at him with watery eyes. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. Was it really a good idea for them to have tried making this journey? He barely made it through before alive on his own.

A small, emotional part of him bitterly thought, it's fitting that I find myself doing what fate intended for me, being a Guide. When he looked at her, however, that piece of him quieted. Instead, he found himself thinking, well, if fate is bound to be rough, then at least I shan't face the menace alone.

He carefully looped his arms around her upper body and helped her to sit up. Her hands shakily grasped his cloak and pulled him closer, and he held her as she shook.

"Shh, shh." He soothed. "It's gone. You're alright. Let's see your wounds, okay?"