I'd apologize for the long wait, but I have been busy for the first time in my life recently. Haha lucky I have quite a few chapters written in advance, right? Anyways, I hope you enjoy the new chapter! It's a little break from young Signless, which is nice, right?

Timewise: This goes after chapter 3 (which is where we met Meulin).

Disclaimer: I do not own Homestuck; Andrew Hussie does. Also, as a general warning due to the nature of Alternia, I have no medical experience, so please don't do the things I write about in here!

Word count: 1788

The Signless paced back and forth, narrowly avoiding the campfire in the middle of their fairly small clearing. The Disciple, sitting at the line where the trees started again, watched him, her brows drawn together into a frown, her book of transcripts clutched in her lap. Abruptly, the Signless growled and stopped walking. "They should be here already."

The Disciple nibbled her lower lip, eyes bright with worry. "When did we get separated from them?"

He ran his hand through his hair and resumed his pacing. "I don't know. Maybe a couple of hours ago?" The Signless and his followers had gone into the city to preach, but when they'd left, they'd been ambushed by half a dozen threshecutioners. The group had run, but had been forced to split up to prevent the threshecutioners from finding their current campsite. Meulin and Kankri had been able to lose the three on their tails when they'd entered a part of the forest that was relatively north to their campsite. They hadn't seen the Psiioniic or the Dolorosa since.

The Disciple nervously opened up her book and began flipping through the pages, barely even looking at the words she'd written. "Maybe they had to run a little further away and got hungry and decided to hunt?" she asked nervously, "You know Mituna is a powerful psionic." She bit down hard on her lip. "They're . . . they're probably fine."

The Signless didn't answer, and the only sound was the crunch of his footsteps and the swish of his cloak as he continued his never-ending pacing, worried red eyes watching for any sign of his mother and best friend.

He found it not long after. The Disciple's eyes widened and she shot to her feet, her book sent flying into the dirt. "Kank—" she began, having smelt blood. But her matesprit was already running. She followed and soon caught a glimpse of two figures limping forwards unevenly. The shorter one appeared to be practically holding the other one, and as she watched, both staggered and fell. The Disciple let out a cry, and the Signless dove forwards to catch them.

The diminutive oliveblood caught up and knelt to support the Psiioniic's weight. He mumbled into her ear, "Rosa . . . help . . . everywhere." The Disciple hastily checked him over for injuries. Nothing but small scratches, although his knee looked dislocated. His voice slurred, "M'fine. . . . Justh tired. Rosa. . . ."

She looked up at the Signless and froze in horror. Her matesprit was clutching the body of his mother and oh god how is all that blood even possible. Jade on the ground, on their clothes, on the trees. For a moment, she wasn't sure where it was even coming from, only that it was and quickly. But then she noticed a long gash across the Dolorosa's chest. The female troll hung limply in her son's arms, blood bubbling at her lips as she breathed erratically. "Oh god," the Disciple gasped.

The Signless was standing frozen, crimson eyes wide with shock, his arms shaking. She took control without even thinking about it. "Kankri! Get her to the camp and do what you can to stop the bleeding." The Signless nodded dully and did as he was told. She bit her lip and asked the Psiioniic, "Can you walk?"

He grunted, "Maybe."

She let him use her as a crutch, half-dragging him towards their welcoming campfire. She would ask him what had happened later. For now, they just needed to make sure that they would all survive through the night. As soon as they broke through the trees and into their little clearing, she carefully dropped the Psiioniic down against a log. "Are you good for a little bit?"

He nodded, eyes opening and shutting hazily. "Juss need resth," he mumbled.

She slapped his cheek gently. "Don't you dare fall asleep." The Disciple ran over to her matesprit and the Dolorosa. Her stomach clenched at the horrid stench of all that blood, but she crouched next to them anyways. She'd worry about the mess later. The Signless was attempting to bind the wound, but his hands were shaking. The sight of his injured mother had clearly addled his think pan.

The Disciple gently moved him out of the way and took over. The Dolorosa was their resident healer; she had learned most of her skills while taking care of Kankri as a child. The Disciple didn't let him see it, but she was terrified. She had no idea what she was doing. She was only doing the things she'd seen the Dolorosa do before, and now she wished that she had asked different questions and paid closer attention.

The Signless sat back and buried his head in his hands, moaning, "This is all my fault."

The Disciple, despite the storm in her head, snapped, "Of course it isn't."

He continued, "I'm the one who separated us."

"If we'd stayed together," the exhausted goldblood mumbled, "we would've all ended up like Rosa." The Disciple thanked whatever entities were listening that the Psiioniic had recovered enough to calm his friend.

Kankri merely let out a pained groan, lacing his fingers in his hair. The Disciple was doing exactly what the Dolorosa had done when the Psiioniic had gotten the wound on his leg a couple sweeps back. After removing the Dolorosa's ruined shirt, she carefully stitched the wound up, but she was silently wishing that she'd asked different questions at the time, wishing that she'd thought to ask to be taught how to do this, wishing that she knew what she was doing.

The Dolorosa stirred and a half-sound escaped her lips. The Disciple froze and she whispered, "Dolorosa, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing. I—"

The rainbow drinker's jade eyes fluttered open, but they were hazy with pain. "Mituna. . . ." she breathed.

The Disciple forcibly stopped her hands from shaking, taking deep breaths. "What about him?"

"They got . . . him." She cut off abruptly as the Disciple continued stitching the wound, a horrible scream tearing from her lips.

The Signless leaped to his feet, and the Disciple cried, "Kankri! Go boil some water!" He needed something to do, and she frantically tried to hurry. The Dolorosa's eyes were growing unfocused again, and, in a desperate attempt to keep her conscious, she said, "Mituna is fine, but he's too tired to tell us what happened."

"'cause I was using psiis to get 'em," the exhausted goldblood tried to retort.

The Disciple bit her lip nervously. The Psiioniic must have used an incredible amount of power to make him this tired. Blood no longer poured from the wound, and she finished stitching it hesitantly, not quite sure if she was supposed to knot it or what.

She looked around for the Signless, but he was having trouble starting a fire. Pursing her lips, she stroked a few strands of hair from the Dolorosa's face. "You'll live," she whispered, "You can't not live."

The Dolorosa's jade eyes caught on the Disciple's olive ones, and then the older troll fell limp, her eyes sliding shut. Her breathing, which rattled in her chest, slowly mellowed out until it was even.

Later that night, once the Disciple was sure that the Dolorosa was in a stable condition and that the Psiioniic wouldn't die of dehydration while he slept, she approached her matesprit. He was sitting beside his mother, holding her hand and rubbing his thumb against her palm, brows drawn low over his eyes. The Disciple brushed her lips over the crease between his eyebrows and somehow managed to muster up a warm smile. "Hey there, love," she murmured, gently taking his hands in hers and pulling them away from the Dolorosa's. She was starting to worry about him, and the darkness behind his ember-like eyes.

He looked up at her blankly, eyes still far away. Drawing him away from both invalids, she settled him down by the fire she'd started after he'd given up and went to sit beside his mother and friend. "Kankri?" she asked, her smile faltering. Now kneeling in front of him, she moved her hands to his face, tracing the lines that seemed to have appeared overnight. He sighed and leaned into her touch, his eyes closing.

"I never thought she'd be hurt," he breathed.

The Disciple curled up on the ground beside him, resting her head on the crook of her arm. "It was bound to happen eventually, considering what we do."

The Signless reluctantly lay down beside her, and she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. His arms tightened around her, and he whispered into her hair, "But not her."

"We all had our moments," the Disciple replied, remembering vividly the other times that any of them had been seriously injured. She hated it more than anything, hated watching helplessly as the people she cared about hurt. Each time, it had been the Dolorosa who had kept everyone calm, the Dolorosa who ensured that they all endured and emerged from each situation alive, and all the stronger for it.

The Signless' hold on her tightened, and she kissed him softly. His voice sounded again, and she could feel the vibration in his skin. "But not her," he repeated, like a child in denial. She didn't know what to say, and so she merely rubbed her fingers along his shoulder. After a short moment, he continued, "She was the one who raised me, you know?"

"I do," the Disciple murmured. After all, she'd spent the last couple sweeps of her childhood raised by the same troll.

"She was always there," the Signless continued, rolling over and staring at the sky. She shifted so that her head rested on his chest. "Mother always felt invincible."

She pressed her lips to his, smoothing out the creases in his face with her fingers. "It'll get better, love," she whispered. "You've seen it. We'll fix things, and none of us will ever have to hurt again."

He looked down at her, but she didn't see the look he gave her. A sad smile settled over his lips. "You're a miracle, Meulin."

She frowned. "You're the miracle, Kankri."

"No." She felt his lips against her hair. "I fell apart back there. But you — you were brilliant." Her cheeks flushed olive and she heard him laugh softly. "I always knew you were braver than me."

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