Warning and Consent Required

The Hunter shook his head, almost as if he could shake loose the ringing in his ears as her wails reverberated about the enclosed space. He still held her, now kneeled upon the ground with her arms tucked against her sides. Effectively ceasing the clawing she'd started.

Halting the shed of his blood. Her blood.

It still trickled down her forehead. Flung every which way as she thrashed like an animal caught in a trap. Her eyes wide but unseeing. Chest heaving as she struggled for each panicked breath. Stomach juices and saliva dripping past parted teeth and onto his arm. Not that he minded. Nor did he mind her fingers spasmodically digging into his thighs.

How long did he stay crouched there? Arms encircling the small woman gradually growing rigid as her muscles fluttered and constricted. Perhaps only a quarter of an hour. But he could feel the shift in the air. That charged feeling steadily giving way to the soft serenity that typically surrounded the girl as the smoldering rune faded.

A horrifying mixture of laughter and sobbing abruptly erupted from her. Her body rocking in his hold with the force of each vocal expulsion of air.

This was anything but serene.

Perhaps he'd been thinking of someone else.

But this girl in his arms… she continued her laughing and her wailing as the scene faded like a bad dream. The sour smell of her bile shortening each breath and only serving to heighten her hysteria. She knew! She knew there was a reason why that bastard –!

She retched.

Loudly. And fell into another fit.

A soft grumble filled the air.

Was that… a growl?

A purr?

And something warm and soothing slid across her eyes. A hand. Pulling her head back until it rested against an armored chest that vibrated and rumbled, a calm settling about her mind. Her body. Perhaps not her soul, but she felt so… at peace. If only for a moment.

"What did you see?"

Oh.

His voice was… so very soothing. And she'd almost started to…

"Forget…"

Another burble of giggles poured from her mouth.

"I… forgot! I forgot! But now I know! Laun! And that… man! That son of a bitch!" Her breaths were coming too quick, again, rushing in and out like the ocean waters during a storm. Eyes rolling as she began seeing things that no longer existed. "And if I could! I'd go back! And I'd make him suffer sevenfold!"

That unhinged, howling laugh erupted from her throat, once more. And again, that rolling noise was there to tamp it down. Almost a soothing balm for her fracturing psyche.

"What did you see?"

But it throbbed like an angry wound at the question.

In the same moment, she couldn't help but feel compelled to answer him. And she was almost unwilling to fight the feeling. Not when he was shifting them back, hands pulling her close to his breast much like a swaddled babe. Not when, in that moment, she felt safe.

So, with a soft sob, she delved into parts of the memory she deemed relevant. Vague renditions to gloss over as much as possible. Her fingers squeezing the firm flesh of his thighs because it was still the only thing the bloody digits could worry. Especially when her breath came too fast or too harsh. When her stomach rolled and cramped. When she finally asked, "What were my parents in the way of? What could have possibly made them deserve… that?"

The Hunter did not have an answer for her. He merely shifted until the shuddering girl was nestled against his side, finding himself partially unsatisfied with the faux farmer's demise. This girl… While rape wasn't necessarily uncommon, some Nobles truly took the cake. Low enough to consider children and twisted enough to make some sexual deviants seem tame.

A shuddering sigh escaped the girl as she scrubbed her face semi-clean with her sleeves.

"Welp. At least my head doesn't hurt anymore. But I should probably… clean that up."

She didn't move. As drained of energy as she was unwilling to ponder how she could see the gloopy pile of sick in the deep darkness of the cave. Unwilling to discover why she could see anything.

"Any minute now."

A handful of minutes passed with her staring blankly ahead before D stretched out one leg, kicking loose sand at the small pool of bile. The smell to begin with was not horribly pungent, but at least now, soaking into the fine grains, it was all but gone.

"I guess that works, too. Still gotta move it outta the way."

Another bout of silence and dead staring.

Slowly, she slunk down. Stretching out and wiggling her foot at the pile until it scattered from an errant twitch.

"Poop."

It was the Hunter's turn to sigh, the action little more than any other exhalation. "You should sleep."

"Don't wanna," she pouted like a petulant child. And while she shrank under his piercing stare, she would not give in. Instead, she stretched out a hand and pawed at his cheek, attempting to lazily turn his gaze away. Had she not been unnerved by the look in his eyes, she might have laughed at the smooshy-face this gave him.

No. No laughing happened when his hands came in to cup her face. Left hand pressed to her temple. Right hand ensuring she could not look away. Her face scrunched up in confusion and, perhaps, just a bit of fear, the memory still a raw, festering wound. But… she trusted him. So, if he wanted to play, she would.

Her other snapped up, pushing at his cheek until his lips pursed. "Squishy-face!"

Error.

D dot exe has stopped.

"Squishy! Face!"

She smooshed his face more.

Ah.

Slowly his hands came together.

"Harder."

Closer.

"Harder!"

Every bit of her face was puckered up before she was satisfied, eyes squinted and lips unable to close. But still she laughed and exclaimed, "Sqwooshy-fehs!"

It was settled.

She was definitely a child at heart.

A very… sheltered child.

Who else would dare attempt to get away with doing 'squishy-face' to the fearsome Hunter?

"Best! Face! Ever!"

Cue a timely eyeroll.

But, if it helped cheer her up and take her mind off things... Again, he couldn't blame her.

Much.

"Sleep," he breathed. With a diminishing chuckle, her eyes rolled back. Arms falling limply to her sides as she did exactly that.

There was a beat of quiet as she softly snored.

"I assume," Hand started, "that you want a look into whatever she saw?"

In answer, D slid his left hand around. Pressing the palm firmly into her forehead. With no further prodding, the countenanced carbuncle delved into the depths of her psyche. Dragging them deeper and deeper. Down until he floated in a sea of information. Watching her memory crawl by and analyzing each aspect of it until he was left with a better understanding.

Some answers.

More questions.

Hand pulled back as they slammed against that fuzzy, black wall, once more, tiny face twisted into a scowl. "Deplorable bastards," he spat. "No wonder she was acting odd around that guy. But the differences between Laun of Puregon and there. It's like night and day."

D hummed in agreement, standing to sweep the vomit-soaked sand off to one side before situating himself by the horse.

"Y'know… I want to think that Riedikke guy dying is what caused this. But I'm not so sure," Hand murmured to himself once the Hunter was settled. "Because, if it was that… wouldn't she have remembered everything immediately?"

Again, however, the man in black had no answer. Sword at his side. Propped against the saddle and bags as he thoughtfully observed the crimson-haired girl.

In time, darkness sucked him down, visions of a feral Krista muddying his thoughts.

It was cold.

A testament to the harshness of the desert and a sure sign of the approaching winter, the chill that settled about the chamber did well in waking Krista. Her body shaking as she wiped a line of drool from her chin and headed for D.

Or more importantly, the bags he rested upon.

Specifically, a thermal blanket.

She silently thanked the Gods that she could still see enough to dig like a mad rat and that he wasn't laying on it. But as she wrapped up in the one blanket, she quickly realized that… it wasn't helping. Determined, however, she collapsed in her previous spot and rolled herself up tighter.

This did little to halt the invasion of the chill. If anything, she felt colder.

With a pathetic whine, she resigned herself to her fate.

She would leech the heat off D.

Still rolled up in the blanket, she wriggled like an inchworm over to the Hunter. Scooting awkwardly closer until she came within touching distance of him. Wondering how he could be so unbothered by the temperature.

Head cocked to one side and lips pursed, she studied him, once again unaware the look was being returned.

Perhaps he wouldn't mind? But… she was doing this consciously this time.

'Gods, help me.'

'Pfft. You wish. Just you, me, him, and his hand.'

She was quiet for a moment too long. "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"

Her answer? Something she'd come to expect at this point. A boisterous laugh that bounced around in her mind. Taunting her and, for a reason she couldn't fathom at that moment, bringing her comfort. So, with an ungraceful flop and a too loud grunt, she shimmied in close to D's side.

Immediate relief.

And she was asleep before she could finish apologizing for the intrusion.

November 04, 13,012

"Too warm!"

She'd never been to a sauna. But as sweat dripped from her brow, she imagined it might feel something like this. Panting, she snapped up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Taking the moment after to let them trail lazily over the man at her side. Fingering the edge of his coat that he'd somehow encompassed her with.

Outside, the storm still raged.

And while the wall of sand blocked a good deal of sunlight, the area was bright enough to accommodate her eyes. The breeze doing well to cool her as she stood from her 'nest' and folded the blanket. Not that she really wanted to. However, there was no need for her to be clingier than she already was. No need to encroach upon the Hunter's personal space more than she did.

'You keep stuffin' that thing and it's gonna pop.'

Too right, the voice was.

She'd been attempting to shove the blanket back into the bag without thinking. Now, the saddlebag was more reminiscent of a poorly and overly-stuffed teddy. Seams looking ready to burst. Made one wonder how he managed to pack it in the first place.

'Just leave it.'

Hanging half out of the bag, she did, and fell with an overdramatic sigh to her rear. Or perhaps groan was a more suiting description once her fingers found her hair. The tangled, matted, crusty, tacky mess making her lips twist in disgust.

And simply dragging her fingers through it wasn't helping. In fact, it was probably exacerbating the issue.

"Fine! Fine!" she hissed, hands flung into the air. "I'll just be nasty!"

Not that they had the water to spare for a good cleaning, anyhow.

So, there she sat, grumbling. Waiting for the Hunter to show signs of life. Almost wishing there was something she could do. But then, when was the last time she'd had a day where she did not need to run? When was the last time D had been able to just… rest?

She was sure the man lived a life on the move. Maybe that was why he was still asleep.

With a shrug, Krista dug her pointer finger into the sand and drew. Idle drawings marking the ground. Filling the space surrounding her. And she only stopped when the muscles in her back were stiff and her legs were numb.

Also when faced with her embarrassingly cartoonish renditions of her traveling companions and other figures.

Worming her way to D, she called his name.

No response.

Worry clawed its way to the forefront of her mind. If she had to guess by the amount of light now filtering through the clouded air, she'd wager it was sometime around noon.

"D?"

She chewed on her lip and eyed the Hunter. He looked… 'Deader than dead.'

'The deadest of dead.'

She'd yet to really catch the man sleeping. Perhaps he was just a deep sleeper?

'Real deep sleeper.'

"You're not helping!" Krista suddenly exclaimed.

'Not tryin' to,' the voice quipped. 'But you could try kickin' him.'

"Nah. I'll give him a few more hours."

And she did.

Barely.

Perching above him as the allotted time came and passed.

But still, he did not rouse.

If he breathed, she could not see or feel it.

If his heart beat, she could not hear it.

Brows scrunched with concern, Krista called his name. Hand's. Yelled them, her hands gripping his coat.

'Stab him,' the voice supplied. 'If he wakes up, great! If not… Well, you're one step closer to puttin' him out of his misery.'

"How about… I pinch him."

'With a knife.'

"With my fingers."

'Killjoy…'

With a soft hum, Krista snatched up his hand and shook herself. Mentally preparing to pinch the ever-loving bejeesus out of him. "Maybe he's just sleeping. Maybe this'll wake him. But then again, he doesn't seem to be fazed by much."

With a terrified squeak, she squeezed her eyes closed and acted.

…

'That… what you're doin' right there… that isn't enough to even squish a fly.'

"…Crap."

'Just get it over with! Like rippin' off a bandage!'

"Wait, kid! Don't!"

But it was too late to heed Hand's hoarse warning.

Almost without her bidding, the fingers of her left hand had already clamped down on the flesh. Violently pinching and twisting the skin. In the same instant, a grumbling growl filled the air and normally onyx eyes spilled a malevolent blood light.

The air rushed from her lungs. Sharp, jarring pains racing down her spine and through her skull. Through her neck. Stars sparking to life in her dark vision as dust clouded the air and pebbles plummeted from the cave ceiling. But through it all, she could see those burning coals. Irises framed by narrowed lids almost brighter than she could stand.

She'd goofed. She knew it by then.

And Gods help her. She was going to die in this hole because she decided to wake the Hunter and she couldn't breathe and he was above her and poised to strike and –

Pale hands encircled her throat, but they did not tear or claw. Did not squeeze. Fingers merely prodding at the quickly bruising skin and tipping her chin up until the damage could be surveyed. But as he did this, only one thing went through her mind.

"We're not… dying!"

Oh, that sounded horrible. Like she was eighty years old and she'd been chain smoking and shooting whiskey since she was ten. Maybe missing a lung. Or just terrible asthma.

Another wheeze. Her chest heaving with the effort.

Had she the energy, she might have been clutching at her throat and sternum.

Or slapping at the Hunter.

He was the whole reason all this happened!

"If you sleep… this deep… all the time…" She paused, panting for a moment. "Well… it's no wonder… you barely sleep…"

"Sorry, kid," Hand murmured as D continued his prodding. "I was gonna warn you but… I took the opportunity to catch some sleep, too."

The probing digits coaxed her forward. "I apologize. This is not a common occurrence."

A strained braying filled the air.

It wasn't until the Hunter fixed her with an almost worried stare (he had, after all, just attempted to murder his client) that he realized she was laughing. Lips lifted and eyes crinkled in her mirth. Despite how the action surely pained her.

"I hope not!" With tears beading in her eyes and her breaths coming short, she gasped, "Next time… you look deader… than a doorknob… I'll just not… and say I did!" Indeed. She reckoned she would not be inclined to disturb the man's sleep in the future.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder. What had caused this? Some sort of Dhampir thing?

"You could say so."

She startled. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Yes, you said it aloud," the Hunter answered before she could ask. His right hand rose to eye level with her, fingertips greased up in a salve she never noticed him fetch. However, with his packing skills, she wouldn't have been surprised if he kept it on his person. "Don't move."

It went on cool. Tingling and smelling much like a menthol compound. Or a mint. Something else that her nose couldn't pick up. But at least the act of him rubbing it on was nice. Soothing. Calming. And already, her breaths came a bit easier. "That's nice."

While they sat there, D's hand continuing to gently massage the greasy substance into her neck, she listened to the Hunter and the countenanced carbuncle explain what had happened. That this really was a rarity. A result of multiple incidents stacking and compounding until he was forced to rest.

Krista interjected, "The deepest of rests!"

Indeed.

And he was content to continue their talk of the sleep (dubbed the Deadening by the girl) until he eyed the ground marred by her drawings. Some looking… okay. Others appearing… well, they looked like they were suffering and needed to be put out of their misery. The debris scattered over the area likely did not help.

Despite all the different faces staring up at him, he only had eyes for one.

"What are you starin' at?"

He briefly gestured at the countenance. Fingers itching to further ruin the drawing. Obliterate it. Ensure it could never cast its gaze upon him, again.

"Oh… um… Why? It's not that great."

"Where have you seen this face?" D queried in turn, eyes narrowing and flashing dangerously.

Her mouth fell open, prepared to answer. However, she snapped it shut with an audible clack once she realized she had no good answer. She almost replied that it was him. But, no. She could see his portrait set a few inches to the side. And the closer she looked between the two, the more she saw wrong,

"I'm not sure," she eventually mumbled. "A dream? From yesterday?"

The memory was slipping through her fingers like rainwater. She just couldn't place where she'd seen it. Not until she remembered thinking that the demon looked much like her companion. But wholly different in the same instant.

"Yeah… I saw that face yesterday. I guess I passed out?"

The Hunter was not sure that was exactly what the girl did, but he supposed it was close enough.

"He was in my dream. Kinda. He looked like this!"

From the fairly drawn head sprouted a network of root like structures.

No. That was a stick body.

With stick wings.

"You draw the face, but you can't be bothered to draw a proper body?" Hand quipped.

"Yeah, well! I'm lazy and I can never get the proportions down! And I'll prove it to you!"

Oh.

She proved it, alright.

"Those are clubbin' hands!"

"I told you!"

"Kill it! Kill it with fire!"

D, body tense and jaw working, brought his right hand down and brushed it out of existence. For a good minute, all were silent.

"So… What's the deal with the face?"

The man in black did not answer. Fingers clawing the dirt before he cast a dark look upon the girl. "Do you recall anything you said after you bit me?"

She had to admit, the look was a tad unsettling. And she wondered what made her garner his… dare she call it ire? "I honestly don't. Not after I apologized. Just that I was walking to the horse with you and then… I wasn't. I was waking up after my dream. Why?"

"He has been gone for a very long time," Hand supplied after a terse silence.

"Oh." What more could she say? "I'm sorry that I don't remem-ow! What the fudge?!"

Midsentence, the Hunter had stretched out her arm and took a dagger to her upturned palm. And as she stared nonplussed at D, clutching the wound, he drew the blade across the flesh of his own palm. With no further warning, he clapped their hands together. Squeezing her hand so tight, she feared something might crack.

For a moment, she wasn't in the cave with a 'friend'. She was back in Puregon with an imposter. And it wasn't something she wanted to associate the Hunter with.

"D, that bloody hurts!"

With a snap, their hands came apart. The sudden release flinging Krista back. But there she lay, eyes steadily glazing over until the Hunter knew she was out of it. Breaths short and panicky. Her fingers twitching as if she were grabbing for something.

Predictably, however, that electrifying blue engulfed her irises. Swiveling about the area until they regarded the Hunter with an air of disgust. "The Hunter. That Man. Can he be called a Man? Dressed in blood and birthed from the very depths of Hell. His son no better. And here he is with this failure. Ready to strike 'em down like beasts for the slaughter. Is that it? Just a beast? A purpose no bigger than to feed… And burn."

For a moment, the Hunter might've thought she was disintegrating before his very eyes. But as he blinked to clear his vision… no. He'd been staring too intently. With a lurch, he came closer to her. Brows furrowed as something akin to dread settled briefly in his bones.

"Go away!" she hissed, gnashing her teeth. "You're the same! You're… He's… Dammit!"

It seemed this was the end.

That it would play out much like before.

Where everything slipped through the cracks. Flitted away with the breeze. Sank into the rising tides. "Drownin'. Burnin'. Sinkin' further an' further. It's all the same. Can't remember for all the forgettin'. An' the cause? Fuckin'…"

She was gone. Eyes fluttering closed as her curse petered off into a soft snore. Muscles jumping and jerking.

D leaned back on his haunches, regarding the sleeping girl with an understandably severe stare. But in the end, what could he do?

"Creepy, isn't it?" Hand chortled. "Kinda makes me wonder what she sees. Did you have anything in mind when you did that? Because I think you scared her half to death!"

"I was thinking of Doris and Dan," he replied.

"Then, what she's seeing can't be controlled, it seems."

It would appear that way.

But there he left her, taking a moment to cushion her head before retreating across the cave. Sinking into his thoughts and pondering the possibilities.

It was night by the time Krista roused, spewing profanities in the same fashion as the previous day.

But this time, it was directed solely towards the Hunter. Eyes alight with anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Shining brightly in the dark of the cave until… nothing. They dimmed, and she turned from him.

'I warned you, didn't I?'

Krista did not respond.

What could she say? The voice wasn't right.

But it wasn't wrong, either.

November 05, 13,012

Morning came. The storm was gone.

At least, outside it was.

The crimson-headed girl had not shifted much through the night. Not for comfort. Not for warmth. Rising stiffly from her spot only once the day's light crept into the opening of their shelter. She breathed not a word aside from a grumbled query of their estimated departure time. And she could hardly bring herself to look into the Hunter's face.

No. That dead stare was focused almost wholly upon the flesh of her palm. Flesh that no longer bore the evidence that it'd been sliced open in a quick, clean motion.

If she were honest, she wasn't sure what upset her the most.

Because, don't misunderstand, she wasn't oblivious to the fact that D was not checking on the wounds she'd had merely a week ago. Or even from three days ago. But watching the flesh split beneath his blade and waking to it sealed? She had to wonder why it'd not struck her before.

And even as her fingers worked themselves under the bandages stretched across her back, she wondered how she'd overlooked the lack of pain. Fingers worrying the exposed stitches still in her leg, but no longer serving a purpose.

Maybe that impersonator… Riedikke… Maybe he was right in what he said.

'I really am a freak.'

'Nah… Well. Maybe.'

If this voice kept floating around in her brain, that 'maybe' would be a 'definitely'.

She clawed out the black bits of thread while she waited for the Hunter and thought. Not that it mattered. What was a little more blood spilt when you'd never know it later?

Really.

What was a little more spilt?

"Kid."

She jumped. Like a child caught wrist-deep in the off-limits candy bag.

"It's time to go."

Oh.

Fingers dug into the nearly-healed flesh before falling to her side.

"Okay. Coming." And as she rose, she supposed her mood came from a combination of things. If she were Human, she shouldn't heal so fast.

'I'm an 'affront to nature'.'

Apparently, she couldn't be graced with a proper label.

'What good am I to them? What use am I to him?'

A wonderous pair of questions. She was just… her. Ditzy, hare-brained her. Granted, she managed to pull off some pretty impressive feats upon occasion, but she wasn't consistent enough to be of much use.

Not in grand schemes.

'What the hell am I doin' here?'

Not in keeping her hand from being slit open. Or staying out of trouble.

But her biggest problem?

While she thought she should be, she wasn't really mad at D for flaying her palm. Upset? Yes. He could have warned her or explained his intentions! And why smack their hands together after the fact? Didn't he know how much of a health hazard that was?!

Okay.

Never mind.

She was pissed.

'But I'm sure he had a reason.'

Still pissed, though.

And as they traveled for the next few days, she stayed that way. Angry at the world and struggling to maintain that state of mind. The day they'd left the cave, it'd been easy. The second day? Still fairly easy. The third? She'd struggled. But self-hate was a wonderous thing. The voice was eager to stoke the fire, as well. But the fourth day? Gods, she just wanted an explanation or an apology! Maybe both.

The last day, as they passed from pale sands to dry shrubs and equally pale grasses, she found herself indignant. Confused. Tired. And more than happy when night came, because night meant stopping, stretching, and possibly getting over herself to talk to the Hunter now that she wasn't irate. Now that she'd had time to think.

Like the graceful thing she was, she flopped out of the saddle and scrambled to her feet. Eyeing the man a tad too intensely as he tended to the horse. Only once he finished and was hefting the saddle and bags onto his shoulder did she call out to him. She had to wonder why she was so anxious. "D?"

He gradually turned, eyes flashing in the dark. Awaiting what she had to say.

"Do you have any diseases I should know about?!"

His brows arched the slightest bit. Not even enough to be noticeable in the dark. But based upon the flush overtaking the girl's face, she seemed just as surprised it came from her mouth as he did.

"I'm sorry. Not what I meant to ask."

Behind him, the horse nickered. Appearing almost amused as Krista floundered.

"Wait… can you catch the not-dead dead genes from someone?!" Boisterous laughter filled the air, and Krista stomped her foot. "Hand, stop! I'm serious!"

"It's too late," D started, hardly needing to raise his voice to be heard as he deposited his load.

"What do you mean it's 'too late'?!"

No answer. Only more guffawing from the countenanced carbuncle.

"D! You're both being turds!"

Another moment of unbridled amusement came to pass before the Hunter gradually clenched his left hand. Stifling the laughs and signaling for his companion to quiet. To Krista he said, "I apologize. I should have warned you of my intentions."

"Or you could have just… not done it at all," she grumbled, not surprised when he inclined his head in affirmation. "But, I guess I understand. You were… seeing if I'd dream, again? Of the man?" Another nod.

With a soft sigh, Krista slumped forward. Understanding and relief washing over her. And she couldn't help but laugh in the voice's metaphorical face. "Okay. So, yeah. I get it, and I am half sorry I woke up yelling at you. But before you test something, again, please tell me. You just… coming at me was a little much.

"And, just so you know, I did dream. It wasn't much different from the last. Still had that winged demon in it. Bloody creepy thing." She didn't elaborate, merely muttering about looping dreams and rotting teeth.

But when she fell silent, he did not press. Instead, he pulled out the lantern and, flicking the thing on, calmly explained that he had no diseases she could catch. Not without a conscious effort and some attempted neck-bites.

"Where on the neck? Here?" She poked the center of her throat, shifting her finger at his 'no' until it rested at the hollow of her throat. Another negative. Another shift. This cycle continued until the Hunter pressed his finger against the side of her neck, just over her artery. And with a loud squeal, she imploded. Shoulder snapping up and head twisting down so violently she shouldered herself in the face.

"Heh… I guess anyone looking for a snack might be hard pressed to bite me." Eyebrows waggling and lips stretched in a wide smile, she squirmed. But made no move to straighten up. "So, if you could move your hand away, that'd be great."

He shifted.

Her cheekbone dug harder into his hand.

"Just… pull really fast?"

Possibly not her best idea. Such strength. Much speed. Wow. She didn't think she'd ever hit the ground faster. World shifting from upright to downright wrong in the blink of an eye.

'I don't know. I think you flew across the cave faster than this.'

Above her, the Hunter extended a hand. Fully prepared to assist her up. But in response to both, she laughed and said, "You know, this is actually pretty comfortable. Rub burn aside. I think I'll just stay here."

So, he left her. Fingers deftly unhooking the sword and its sheath from his back as he turned off the lantern and sank against the saddle in the sandy grass. And he watched. Watched the stars shift and twinkle. Watched the horse collapse with a deranged whinny, legs flailing as it wiggled about on its back before falling eerily still. Watched the girl eventually flip over to stargaze after worriedly observing the beast from a distance.

He'd not slept since the cave, and after he observed the surroundings, his aura stretching to encompass the area, he figured it wouldn't hurt to. So, as he sank into that realm between wakefulness and sleep, he paid no mind to the girl gradually shifting. Letting everything he'd taken in since the beginning of their adventure swirl about in his mind until he came up with a plan that would surely give them some answers.

And Krista was content. Mostly. Fingers carding through filthy tresses. Snagging on knots and leaving her with the wholly-encompassing sensation of disgust. Perhaps she could ignore it if she stargazed a bit more? Or just slept?

But sleep did not come.

Instead, she turned her gaze upon the heavens, once more. And something within her trembled. Terrified and anxious. A general sense of unease settling in her very soul as she gazed up at the infinite space stretching before her. Shaking her to the core.

'That's new.' Perhaps she was just having an off night.

Her eyes snapped down, focusing on the dry grasses as she took a steadying breath. The effect was immediate. A calm like no other sweeping over her like a dense fog even as her nails bit into the flesh of her arm.

She drifted. Unaware of how long she floated in that purgatory the Hunter knew well.

'Maybe short hair would be better.'

Ideas that invaded your thoughts while dozing had a tendency to sound either painfully stupid or incredibly brilliant. One could guess where this idea landed as Krista, eyes firmly closed, sat up. A slender hand trembling excitedly as it grasped for her daggers and pulled one free.

Crimson painted the ground as she worked, cutting with unskilled hands until her hair curved with her jawline. It was choppy. A mess of uneven lengths. But she was pleased with how the disaster felt against her fingertips.

It would be okay. Sure of it, a smile stretched across her face as she brushed aside the fallen hair. She stretched out on her belly and, sleep descending upon her, that voice she was far too accustomed to whispered, 'You've lost your damn mind.'

'Maybe so…'

November 10, 13,012

The soft light of dawn spread across the land. In the distance, desert birds squawked and hopped. Reptiles chittered and hissed. Air chilled, but not frigid. The morning was calm.

"What the fudge?!"

Was.

Because, apparently, his charge decided that now was the time to sing him the songs of her people. And what better way to wake the Hunter? A man built to kill and not easily startled. But in the time it took her to blink, he was standing with his blade drawn. Detecting no danger but well aware that stranger things had happened.

Who's to say that, one day, someone or something wouldn't find a way past the Hunter's sharp senses?

This was not that day, and with a near-silent sigh, he sheathed his sword and settled it upon his back. This girl… oh, this girl. Eyeing the strands of hair surrounding her and clutched in her fists, it wasn't hard to see the problem. But for clarification, he asked, "What happened?"

Her voice, though flat, relayed just how distressed she was. "My hair grew back overnight." Before he could ask the reason, she continued. "I got upset over how dirty my hair was and I had the thought that it'd be better short."

Her nails dug into her upper arm, once more. Scratching and digging at something he could not see. With little more than a quiet hum, he began searching for something.

"You know, I figure some people might kill for the ability to grow long hair that fast. I mean…" She trailed off for a moment, staring at the hair draped across her folded legs that transitioned from crimson to a stark black at the ends. "Even the black came back. What hair does that?"

More digging.

"Whatcha got there?"

The Hunter sat on his haunches before her. In his hand, he clutched two needles. Very similar in size and shape, but very different in make. Smaller than the ones typically used on foes, but having a purpose all the same. Rarely used, but always retrieved (when possible).

"Needles. Iron, and silver."

"What are they for?"

"I'd like to test a theory," he succinctly replied.

She was wary, still eyeing the instruments of torture no larger than a knitting needle when he requested her hands. And if she was entirely honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to hand them over.

Snerk.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the noise, but she only pulled her hands closer to her chest. She was sure that the Hunter would respect her denial, should she give one. But with an over-dramatic sigh, the appendages were extended. "… Gonna hurt?"

It wasn't quite a question.

"Possibly."

This time, she huffed. "Thanks for the insight. But I am grateful you asked. So…" She shook her hands at him. "Do what you're gonna do."

Surprisingly, the needles went to one side. His hands cradling one of hers before his thumbs pressed into her palms. Rubbing. Kneading the flesh until her fingers were spreading invitingly and her eyes were closed. And she never noticed an absence of one.

However, she did not fail to notice the chill of cold metal against her palm. Blunt end rolling along the creases and divots, pausing only to wiggle in one spot. The needle was dull and not very shiny. 'Must be the iron one.'

He grabbed the silver one gleaming in the early-morning light, repeating the process until he was satisfied.

"You know… if you were testing ways to make me calm and happy, I'm sure a few head-pets would've worked." She nudged him with her foot. "Just for future reference."

The Hunter logged that away. He wasn't sure when it would ever be relevant knowledge, but surely it would serve some purpose. Even if for only a moment. Unfortunately for her, he had a theory he'd yet to test. With a flip of the needle, he dug the razor-sharp tip into the flesh.

The girl sighed. "Is this part gonna hurt?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Bring it on." She expected a small prick. Or a nick. But as the needle shot straight through her hand with a small flourish of his own, she screeched and about slapped him in the face. She might have done it, too, had he not caught the swinging limb and driven the iron needle through it, as well. "Bloody – Gods bless the country and save everything! That hurt!"

He said nothing of her colorful substitution for what was sure to be a very long, drawn out expletive. Only murmured over the countenanced carbuncle's rambunctious laughter, "I warned you."

"Warn me better!" she hissed, pressing her foot against his stomach and lightly shoving. Not hard enough to knock him over. Just enough to rock him as the laughter died down. "What would require this?! Couldn't you have just… given me a small poke?!"

"You're healing too fast for 'a small poke' to be of use," the Hunter calmly explained, thumbs massaging her trembling fingertips. "Prolonged exposure will allow us to watch for any reactions to these two metals and further determine what you might be."

"Pieces to the puzzle, so to speak," Hand added. While his voice wavered with his mirth, he laughed no more. Opening D's palm until he stared up at Krista. Or rather, stared at her hands. "How does it feel?"

"Feels like someone put a nail through my hand…" she deadpanned, and the creature groaned in response.

"I got that, smartass." The beady eyes rolled.

But with her not focused on D, it gave the Hunter a small moment to collect her blood for analysis. Eyeing the dark green display of the micro computer as it struggled to read and decipher the information it was given. Struggled to infer the girl's face. Struggled to tell him anything before releasing a shrill shriek. Error codes filling the screen at an alarming rate and the face it had attempted to generate twisting and warping. A glitched, screaming visage of what it could be before the error codes consumed it.

He switched it off and slipped it into the folds of his coat just as the girl snapped her head about to locate the source of the noise. He was a tad… surprised? The small machine was rarely incapable of completing its job. And yet, here was this girl.

"D, her hand is smoking."

So it was. He pulled her right hand closer. Watched as wisps of smoke or vapor, belched forth from the wound, curled in the air. It smelled of… flesh burning on a hot pan. Of death. Of rot.

He could see it now. Flesh once red, blackening just around the edges. Spreading like ink in water.

The hand in his hold convulsed, blood gushing around the needle. Bubbling along the edges of the silver instrument until it turned to sludge and dripped like mud onto the ground. And Krista whimpered pitifully, squirming and stomping at the earth as the black receded only to come back stronger.

A handful of minutes passed as he continued to observe the spread.

It was fascinating. How her body attempted to flush out the irritant and only succeeded in further agitating the wound. Each spasm sending an angry pulse through her hand. The immediate area burning and itching with the wrath of a thousand rashes.

"D, can this experiment be over? Like, yesterday." The girl flapped the hand with the iron needle in it about flippantly. Appearing unbothered by its existence as she inclined her head to the opposite hand, tears dripping down her cheeks. "Because I'd rather cut off my hand than continue this."

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?" Hand laughed.

"No."

"Well… better start cutting."

One outraged squawk later and the Hunter was intervening. Swiftly extracting the metal needles with a sticky squelch before the girl could attempt to remove his hand. He might even let her.

She huffed a sigh of relief. But it soon turned into a throaty grunt as D cleansed and bandaged her hands. Tightly. "D, my fingers are turning purple. Is that necessary?" She gasped. "Are my fingers gonna fall off?!"

"Your right hand is more likely to fall off before your fingers."

A heavy silence stretched between them. The Hunter, staring impassively. Krista, mouth agape with terror as she struggled to decide if this was some joke or a serious issue. It was only after she decided there was no way to tell with this stoic man that she pulled her hands from his and murmured, "Can I have a hook hand?"

The Hunter was about to respond. Tell her that it was unlikely she would lose the hand considering her body was actively fighting the reaction (and fighting it very well, at that) and would likely be healed within a few hours. But with a fierce look, she shook her stiff hand at him and continued.

"Because I swear upon all that is good in this world, if I lose my hand and don't get a kickass hand replacement out of it because of your experiment, I swear I'm gonna shove you so far into pink frills you won't be able to see the light of day for a hundred years!"

Hand started laughing. Of course.

D just had to wonder where this girl came up with her threats.

"Man, I bet you'd look great in pink!"

No. Just… no.

"But not an overly bright pink. No… a soft pink!"

Still a no from him.

"With a tutu!"

Her eyes were sparkling, shining with her mirth and awe as she dared to imagine the impossible. But by this time, the Hunter had opted to turn away from her delusions and focus on cleaning his needles. Packing everything away as she spouted literal nonsense. Ideas regarding the duo traveling the world and putting on shows where… she would attempt to perform but would inevitably rely upon him to save the disaster.

"Suppose we could make money convincing people she's part of a circus act," Hand murmured.

Maybe so. But he did not agree. Nor did he disagree. Simply stared into the baggage and stored his bandages as she concluded her farfetched dream of becoming a traveling contortionist. Already she was failing miserably. Proving that, while flexible to an extent, she was not flexible enough to… contort her body and not get stuck.

"Sweet, merciful Mother! What the Hell was I thinking?! And why is sand coming out of mah boot?!"

He glanced up just as her heel slipped over her shoulder and she kicked herself in the face. Laughing heartily despite the grimace dominating her expressive countenance. "Never mind! There is no way that is happening!" Another moment of her chortling passed before she began pulling at her split boot. "Now, get outta mah boots, sands!"

And the Hunter and the countenanced carbuncle found themselves unable to look away from the girl as she panted and struggled to remove the footwear. Specifically, the intact footwear. Grunting in a manner that sounded more like she needed a bathroom and less like she was disrobing.

"Seriously, think of all the money…" the creature whispered.

As if on cue, a pop and painfully loud squeal punctuated his statement.

"Why are sweaty feet a thing?!"

"Why not wear socks?" Hand suggested.

She huffed, clearly agitated at the boot and herself. "I didn't think to grab any when I left town. Or more of… I didn't wanna waste time looking for a clean pair? Besides, I'd still have sweaty toes. And then the socks would probably get crusty and nasty and eventually stand on their own!"

After a few moments of her struggling more, the boot flew off and spilled… nothing.

"Are you kidding me?" the girl hissed.

And the duo watched her struggle begin anew as she tried, and failed, to pull the boot back on. Thrashing and whining like a pup. Fingers unable to properly grip the worn leather with how tightly they'd been bound.

As seemed to be a reoccurring theme, D came to her rescue. Pushing her feet into the troublesome boots before pulling her up with a soft tug on her elbow. "We'll be leaving soon. I'll check your hands before we do."

"You mean you'll check them beforehand?"

There was a long silence that stretched between them before the countenanced carbuncled said, "Y'know, it's not too late to ditch her."

A smug, cheeky look curled her lips and crinkled her eyes. "Mmm, I'm afraid it is. You'd probably have to kill me to get me to leave at this point."

Another silence.

"That can be arranged."

She gasped. "How rude!"

Hand's next response was muffled by the straps of the saddle as D fastened it down, but she imagined it was just laughter. It could have been something equally 'rude' as the last thing. Playfully rude.

"Hey, D?" He inclined his head to show he was listening. "Being so old… if you fall in love, would you technically be a cradle robber?"

Speaking of rude.

And yes, that was most definitely laughter emanating from his hand. But she continued despite the noise and out of character gawking the Hunter was doing. As much as one so stoic could gawk.

"I heard some of the girls in my class calling one of the teachers a cradle robber. I asked Miss Haldwyn what that meant, and she said it was what people were rudely called when they fell in love with someone younger than them. And she believed it to be okay so long as the younger one was an adult." She eyed D critically at this point before snickering. "I'd imagine the pickings get sparse for your age range once you reach the thousands."

A pale hand snapped forward and grabbed her ear, tugging the flailing girl toward the horse. Not that he was doing it hard enough to do more than pinch if her delighted giggles were anything to go by. But the moment did give D a bit of information that he somehow overlooked.

"Your ears."

"Yes! You have my ear!"

They drew short of the steed with another soft tug on said ear, and brushing back her hair, he said, "You have Elfin ears."

Her face became uncharacteristically blank. Eyes glazed over as she reached up to cup his hands. "I have… effin' ears?"

"Elfin."

Another blank stare.

"What's that mean?"

With a small turn, his fingertip traced the upper point of her ear. It had a delicate curve with a pale blond dusting of hair. Not much larger than the average ear. Adorned with no less than five studs trailing from the lobe to the tip.

He supposed the best way to explain was to show her. And she watched raptly as he pulled back his dark hair to reveal an ear not unlike her own. Missing the curve and peach fuzz, yes. But undeniably Elfin.

"Oh! You have pointy ears too!" she squealed. "That's so cool! I haven't met anyone else with them! Is that what Elfin means? Pointy? Is it a genetic mutation?"

And on she continued as she missed the point entirely. Granted, she seemed to understand that she could likely not classify as Human, but he was hoping she would understand that even that small bit of information helped lead them to where she might fit.

Perhaps finding her place might convince her that she wasn't an affront to nature.