The Hunter trods through the streets, bumping into carriages and tripping over bodies. He sports two brilliantly black eyes, as well as bright red rash on his neck. Such is the danger of antagonizing two feisty Cainhurst women.

While he normally would have used a blood vial to heal the injury, they had been confiscated by the aforementioned women to 'teach him a lesson.'

"I thought it was funny," the Hunter mutters.

"Excuse me?"

The Hunter jumps at the sound of Marina's voice. "Nothing! Nothing at all."

She faces forward once more, frowning. She was dressed in full Doll attire, seeing as the body would soon be the Doll's anyway.

"I hate skirts," Maria complains, taking over. "They make it much too hard to move, and they look foolish besides."

"Your coat is the length of a skirt," the Hunter points out. "It's much easier to grab, as well."

"The aesthetics more than make up for the tactical disadvantage," Maria argues.

"You are Cainhurstian. You people seem to value fashion over function."

"You people?" Maria says indignantly.

"Name one Cainhurstian that wore ordinary clothes."

Maria thinks on it. She honestly can't recall any; looking fabulous was as deeply ingrained in her culture as blood and decadence. "You may have a point."

They continued that way for some time, arguing, bantering, laughing, returning to the way things used to be. It was enough for Maria to forget all her worries and doubts.

Maria smiles. Gods, it's been so long. Ten months? A year? I should thank my lucky stars that Cainhurstians have a two year gestation period, elsewise I would have given birth by now.

The thought unnerved her. The Doll she could easily see as a mother; hell, she was practically made to be one.

But me? Maria thinks. Would I even deserve to be a mother after what I did to Kos and her son?

"Maria? Are you alright? You've gone pale."

The Hunter's voice breaks her out of her reverie. "I am always pale, simpleton," she responds, giving him an unconvincing smile. She mentally kicks herself. Normally she is skilled at hiding her emotions, but the hormones running rampant through her brain make it difficult.

The Hunter frowns. "Perhaps..."

Much of the 'day' passes in silence, the footsteps of the two bodies echoing off of bloodstained stone walls. They encounter the odd blood-addled townsman, normally not of mind sound enough to even fight. What they encounter more frequently however, are citizens. Time is convoluted across worlds, and it appears that little time has passed between their departure to the Ringed City and their return home. The beasts have yet to return in great numbers, and many Yharnamites are brave enough to venture out for food and supplies.

Most are armed and armored, with nary a patch of flesh to be seen. Men, women, and even the odd guttersnipe pass by decked in leather and fur, makeshift weapons clanging on their hips. The city is even looking a bit cleaner, with the worst of the gore swept away by rain. Moonrays dance off of puddles in the street, every so often creating an eerie rainbow in the vapor from the steam pipes around the city.

Their trip to Iosefka's clinic yields no results, as expected. The Blood Minister who had given the Hunter his transfusion had no allegiance to her, nor the church. He came and went, with no message to herald his arrival. Last she heard, he was headed to the choir district, but that was weeks ago. After that, he would normally leave Yharnam, only to return on the eve of the next hunt.

Maria thanks her, heading out into the courtyard.

"So what now?" The Hunter asks.

"How should I know?!" Maria snarls. "He was our last hope! But we are good and truly fucked, now, aren't we? By the time he comes 'round, it'll be over, and I'll be gone!"

The Hunter steps back, suprised by her vulgar outburst. "Gone, what...? Maria are you alright?" He puts his hand on her back, and she quivers under his touch.

"Don't touch me!" She violently shoves the Hunter away. "Your touch has done enough!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" The Hunter spits angrily. "What happened to my friend? You've been a different person ever since we left for the Ringed City! You hardly talk to anyone anymore, you sleep all day, and you snap at anyone within earshot! Why the hell are you being like this?!"

"Because I'm pregnant, you ass!"

The air stills. Off in the distance, a howl rings through the city streets.

"You're what?"

The Hunter stands deathly still, afraid that the smallest noise could obscure her voice.

"Pregnant," Maria whispers. Tears roll down her cheeks, and oddly, that is the most disturbing thing in the scene unfolding before him. Maria never cries. He has seen her shot, stabbed, shocked, and clubbed, but never once did a tear leave her eye.

The Hunter's mind races. He doesn't have to ask who the father is; her reaction was proof enough.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks, his voice small. He tries in vain to keep the hurt from his voice. "Why-... Why, Maria?"

"Because," Maria starts. "I love you. It hurts more than you know that you would choose a Doll that looks like me, rather than me. And I know how unfair of me that is." She draws a shaky breath. "When you were making love with the Do-... When you were making love with Karina, I was there. I felt everything she did, and it was like we were finally together. I couldn't throw that away, even though I knew it wasn't safe."

The Hunter listens quietly, his mind reeling.

Suddenly, a gruff voice cuts through the night, accompanied by the squeaking of rusty wheels.

"That was quite a speech, girlie."

Through the mist, a grizzled old man appears, slowly moving his wheelchair across the cobblestones. The chair is decked with dozens of blood vials, syringes, intravenous tubes and bags, and bags of unsigned contracts.

"I've heard enough from this 'un to know that you'd be quite the addition to the hunt," he grunts jerking his head towards a familiar Messenger on his shoulder.

"Now... Let's get you signed and sealed."