"I need – I need to stop."

"Antoinetta, we cannot. We must keep moving. The moment the Black Hand knows we survived – "

"Please, Vee."

A pause. The old vampire inhaled deep not out of need, but purely to feel his lungs swell, purely to expel that breath in a sigh as he thought what to say. His first instinct, a reprimand. He'd told her time and time again not to call him by that inane little nickname.

But her eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, her face drawn with exhaustion and pain, he simply couldn't bring the words to pass. A low sigh. Instead he reached for her, winding an arm around her back and under her arm so she could lean her weight onto him. The wound was impossible to see in the dark, but even under her armour the bandages had to be soaked through by now. Rain still fell torrid, a curse for the cold, a blessing for the shroud it made.

He peered through the darkness, the sheets and occasional illumination as thunder crackled and rumbled overhead. A moment of bright light guided the way. "Come."

He lead her then, across the rocky ground of the mountain range. A dangerous choice for the plain view – easier to lose themselves in forest or swamp – but with many caverns, many nooks in which to hide. And, if they were lucky, they wouldn't be hiding long.

If.

At last they were sheltered from the rain, stumbling inside the cavern together. The drops of water that fell from them, even that gentle sound, seemed to echo. Deep in until they had only the barest trace of light from the entrance. He helped her to the wall, to sink down off her feet. A hiss of pain. He joined her, able even in this dark to see her face.

The tears came again. They had, every time they'd stopped over this past – four, five days? Silent save occasional sniffles or whimpers, the times her eyes would close and her face would contort as though in agony. But they hadn't spoken of it. There hadn't been time, first the battle, putting down their newest Brother before fleeing, hardly able to rest…

She'd hit her limit. And truthfully, he was hitting his. Even for a creature such as he, there was only so far he could push. And his stock of blood tainted before the Silencer confessed to his task, he hadn't fed since well before they'd even left. In quiet moments, the thump of his Sister's heart made his mouth water.

She shuddered, shivering beside him. Peeling back her armour to show the bandaged wound in her calf, long since bled through and yellowed. They would have to watch it carefully for infection.

Damn it all, if only they'd had time to prepare. To gather supplies, to make a plan, but it had all happened so fast and there was distrust between them already, each fearing the other traitor…

And what about her?

No. He'd already decided that. No, not her. Impossible to imagine any of his Brothers or Sisters capable of treachery, but Antoinetta lived and breathed the Brotherhood, had since she was a slip of a girl. She shifted against him now, breath hitching.

"I just don't understand."

He watched her. She'd spoken so little in these past days, so unlike her – perhaps this was a good sign. A hand on her shoulder. Even in comparison to him, she was strikingly cold. "I am so sorry, Sister."

"We loved each other. We were Family. And even him, I trusted him, I thought…" Harsher this time her sob. She placed her head between her legs where she sat, elbows resting on her knees, fingers dragging through golden curls. "And the Speaker. How could he do this to us, Vicente? Why?"

"Lucien…" Even the name made her whimper. Vicente shook his head, sighing low. "… The Black Hand undoubtedly made the ruling, and he is loyal to the Listener, to the Night Mother."

"We're loyal!" Almost hysterical, her shriek. He hushed her, soothed her back down as she wept.

"We are, Sister. But he had little choice to try and expunge the traitor, to obey the order given. To do less would be to betray Sithis himself."

A pause. She spoke soft, so timid and meek it almost made him wince. "… Are we traitors, now? For running? Should we, should we just have laid down and died?"

He didn't know. It was something he'd mulled many times in their flight. Still, she needed an answer. She depended on him. "… I do not believe so, Antoinetta. We have broken no tenet. We were not ordered to die. If the Night Mother smiles on us, the traitor will be found and dealt with, and we will all return home. Until then…"

She wound her way in close, sidled up against him as though to try and share in warmth he didn't have. Teeth chattering between her quieted sobs, rubbing her wounded leg up and down. "I – I hope it's soon. I hope everyone else is okay."

"As do I."

Silence reigned between them. Outside the rainfall continued, spilling in heavy sheets, the storm crackling and rushing overhead to make a sound almost like howling over the entrance. If only it were dry, perhaps they could find wood, start a fire…

"Stay here a moment, Sister. I will not be long."

A nod. Wrung through she was beginning to doze off, chin tilting down to her chest. He rose and made his way back deeper into the cavern. Many such places were used for storage or smuggling, or as hideouts. He'd felt no life in here as they'd entered, smelled no bleed nor heart any beating of hearts, but…

Yes. A sigh of relief, a silent thanks to the Night Mother. No, they were loyal. And they would survive long enough to prove it.

She only roused when he'd had the fire lit, a mess of splintered wood from crates and barrels long since forgotten in the cavern to feed it. Confusion flickered over her features at the sudden light and warmth, then relief. Small, pale hands stretched out to soak in the heat.

"Thank you, Vee-Vee."

And that was even worse. Still, now was not the time for petty squabbles. He settled beside her again. "You are welcome, Sister. Please, try and rest."

Striking the contrast of being away from her and being close again now. The throb of her heartbeat, the song of life thrumming rich red through her veins. Like an itch, like a burn, hunger swelled up.

No. He dismissed it, cold ash in his mouth. No. He could be patient as necessary, no matter how he starved. Think. He closed his eyes, lay his head back against the stone. Tomorrow. She would be hungry again tomorrow. With luck, they might catch something. Even just fish, or some wild fruit, something to keep her strength up. They'd move further Northeast, putting distance between themselves and the danger in the cities. They…

A pause. Her heart had sped up. He sat upright to find her watching him, brow furrowed and lips turned in a look of concern.

"You don't look so good."

"I am fine, sister." It ached in his jaw, down into his fangs, arched in his curling fingers. So close. He had written once in a foul temper to Ocheeva that there was no tenet against draining his sister of a few pints of precious blood. Her lips parted, slow in realization.

"I – I'm sorry, Vicente, you must be starving. I didn't even think. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yes." Yes, yes, he had to be. His head throbbed. "In time, sister."

"We should have stopped, should have tried to nab a stupid bandit or…"

"There is too much risk in detours. I will be fine, sister, I assure you."

She glared for a moment. He almost could have laughed. Those big blue eyes frimmed with pale lashes, that little pout. Sithis, it was almost a relief to see something so familiar after all of this. She glowered a moment longer before pulling back the sleeve of her armour, baring her wrist and presenting it, practically jamming it under his nose.

Night Mother preserve him. Sweet and hot and heady like wine, making his chest tighten, a snarl on his lips. His nares flared before he shook his head. "You don't know what you're offering, Sister."

"You're starving, Vee. As long as you don't drain me dry it's fine, right?" She shifted to sit up on her knees. "I'll be fine."

"You are injured and exhausted."

"It hurts, but it's not that bad. But you need to drink. You need t'be able to think straight. I need you." Those damned eyes, the little tilt of her head as she pleaded. "Please."

So like Antoinetta to cut to the heart of the matter in such a childish way. Without pretense, speaking the truth. Yes, it was becoming harder and harder to think clearly. Another few days and he would be ravenous, senseless. And if he waited much longer, if he pushed his tolerance too far…

What if he fell on her then? Unable to control these base urges that drove him to destroy and devour?

A hard swallow. He cradled her offered hand in his for a moment, wrist upturned. "Only if you are certain, Sister."

"I am. Just like I'm sure we're not traitors, and we definitely don't need to be Purified." She spat the last word with such ferocity he almost chuckled. "You're right. We'll wait it out, and then we'll march right back and show we were loyal the whole time. Now, go ahead and drink, okay?"

Purified. Even as he smiled at his loyal, stubborn Sister, his gut recoiled at the thought of what could have been. All of them, dead in what had been their home. Even with their souls sent to Sithis a terrible and sudden end, all to purify a sickness he simply couldn't believe was there to begin with.

No, he couldn't believe that. She gave only a little hiss of pain before relaxing as his teeth sank in, expertly opening a vein that would seal later by nature of his saliva, sealing the wound. Hot blood rushed into his mouth, making his shoulders slump in relief as he drank what she offered. Out of loyalty, out of love.

He'd never tasted anything so pure.