V No Glory in Regret (NPC)

[Arthur Morgan]

The piercing cry of a night bird’s shriek shattered the oppressive atmosphere like a scream in solitary confinement, echoing across the stillness of the shadowy jungle, amplified by the eerie silence of the late hour. It was a time when most living creatures rested their heads to sleep, save for the predators of the night... and those who wished to move unnoticed under cover of darkness.

Two figures trudged deeper into the thick jungle of Kraw, desperately trying to remain unseen in the encroaching blackness and thick foliage. Their clothes were torn, their skin scratched and bruised. Only the faintest of distinct shapes and features could be seen–both young, both dressed in lightweight leathers and even flimsier cloth to combat the tropical humidity.

Within moments, the outstretched branches of the jungle had swallowed up everything but their shadows. The soft, foot-swallowing earth gave way to a carpet of fallen leaves that muffled their footsteps. There was no moon in the sky that night; only darkness, and the nocturnal song of the jungle's inhabitants.

The night bird could be heard squalling once more. Like clockwork, the humans began to move with a newfound sense of urgency, their course now determined by sound more than sight.

The younger of the pair steeled their resolve with a deep breath, the motion mirrored by their companion, only a few inches away from where they crouched in the undergrowth.

“Now,” they mouthed, lurching forward on unsteady, skittish feet. "We have to move now."

The two moved in harmony, knowing exactly what to do with no further words between them. As soon as they emerged from the shadows, they ran faster than before. They were running from the darkness behind them and towards the darkness in front of them—into the unknown. Each gasp for air was audible; soon their lungs were burning for that which was denied. But neither of them stopped; there was no space for weakness, and certainly no time to stop and regain their breath, much less their wits.

They raced through the forest, weaving between towering trees and overgrown shrubs. The ground was damp, and their feet drummed out a staccato rhythm against the soft dirt. Gradually, the ground became more muddy, the air sticky—the buzzing hum of mosquitoes filled the air, along with the mysterious rustling of unseen creatures in the underbrush. Dried plants snapped, disturbed creepy crawlies skittering in different directions.

“I– I can’t run anymore, Matty,” the younger struggled to speak, wheezing as they clutched at their side, footsteps drawing to an uneven, dizzying halt. Every time they tried to move, a sharp, searing pain spread from their rib cage, radiating throughout their entire body. It felt as if the simple act of breathing was cracking them in two.

“Come on, Dell. We're almost there. We can’t get caught now,” their companion urged on, blindly reaching out in the space between them, grasping at the air. He didn’t stop until his hands were laced between theirs. “We’ll move slower,” he encouraged, softer now; reducing his pace.

Matt glanced over at Dell, who gave a slight nod of their head. As one, the two trudged forward, continuing their journey through the dark.

-

It felt like forever since they had heard anything but their own footsteps and harsh breathing, a faint ringing in their ears from the oppressive quiet. The fortified wooden walls of the university were no longer in sight, leaving them truly alone in the darkness.

“Okay. I think we’re far enough out, now,” the man said suddenly, switching on the lamp they had brought along. The small lamp was bright enough to blind them for a few seconds, and as their eyes adjusted to the brightness, they scanned the new territory they had ventured into. The light cast the features of the two humans in a soft golden glow, though every wrinkle and depression was exaggerated by harsh, slanting shadows.

The smaller, scrawnier of the pair, Dell Martin, had dark reddish-brown skin, short curly brown hair, and keen green eyes. The man, Matthew Grayson, was the complete opposite: a brawny young man with mahogany-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and long braided hair. Dell had a knife strapped to their leg, while Matt held a barb-tipped spear in his grasp. His grip was white-knuckled around it as he stared at the jungle closing in all around them, an apprehensive, wary glint in his eyes. By way of contrast, Dell seemed a lot more cheerful—almost fit to burst with excitement.

“Where is this place, anyway?” Matt grunted, raising the lamp. The thick foliage looked much the same as anywhere else on Kraw, he supposed, and with the light he could see the faintest glint of hundreds of tiny eyes shining back at him— silently observing the pair of humans in the darkness. Nothing but frogs and insects, judging by the croaking and buzzing that formed a continuous hum around them. But that didn't mean there weren't other creatures watching from within the impenetrable curtain of trees, invisible to the human eye.

Matt shivered. He sure hoped not, for their sake.

“Hold on,” Dell whispered, rummaging through their backpack. A few minutes later, they brought out a map, along with a compass they had traded a few old books or something for—Matt didn't know about that crummy, dusty scholarly stuff. Dell grinned as they showed Matt the piece of paper. “I prepared for this.”

Swaying the lamp closer, Matt's lantern cast enough illumination for the pair to make out the words on the map.

“We are currently… here,” Dell said eagerly, pointing to a spot on the map, a little north of New Abraxas. “It’ll take five days for us to get to the ruins. Seven days, max.”

“Seven days?” Matt repeated incredulously, scratching the back of his head. “If that’s really the case… well, us being gone’s probably gonna get noticed, Dell. I don't think we'll get a warm welcome when we get back.”

If we get back, was what he didn't say.

“We just have to come back with something that’ll smooth things over,” Dell shrugged, feigning a lack of concern. Matt could see how they shifted uneasily, though, and he once again wondered if it was too late to go back—it had been a stupid idea to let Dell convince him of this harebrained scheme, anyway.

Matt stared at Dell for a few seconds, biting the tip of his tongue to stop from saying the words he wanted to. Finally, he shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the map to look out over the jungle.

“Okay, then,” he said, sighing heavily through his nose in assent. “Where we headed to now, then?”

Dell scrutinized the map for a moment longer, the thin parchment paper shuddering in the breeze, the illustrations on it shivering under the firelight’s pale golden glow. Finally, they looked up at Matt, a smile brimming on their lips. “North. We keep moving... north.”

They began to move once more, the lamp and compass their guide. Although they had each other, the dangers of travelling through unfamiliar territory in the darkest of nights continued to weigh heavily on their minds. Anything could happen at any moment, really. They could be discovered by the night guard, or even attacked by the creatures that lurked outside the walls of New Abraxas, always eager to find their next meal. But they had no choice, now. As bad of an idea as this was, it would be even worse to get caught trying to sneak back in. They needed to commit.

Matt tightened his hold on Dell’s hand, silently vowing to protect them as best as he could. Dell was like a younger sibling to him—the brains of their little clique, while he was the brawn. Their thirst for the knowledge outside the walls had made them come this far– breaking the rules of the university, sneaking out during the dead of the night... yeah, they were in deep shit.

“Matt! Matty!” Dell’s voice abruptly broke into his thoughts, snapping him back to awareness with a jerk.

“What?” Matt asked, gaze darting around wildly. Were they under attack?

Dell sighed heavily, rolling their eyes at Matt's sudden anxiety.

“I've been calling out to you since, like, forever,” they muttered, sullen.

“Yeah, sorry.” Matt said, clearing his throat. “What were you saying?”

“I said, we need to find a place to sleep tonight. We can continue on in the morning, once it's daylight out."

“Right,” Matt muttered, staring into the darkness that stood before them. "Right."

 

[Arthur Morgan]

The sun fought every fogging attempt of the dense, dew-covered jungle as it rose. The gentle rays, light as feathers and almost invisible to the naked eye, licked at the tips of the trees, casting them in starkly living color. The birds twittered across their twiggy home with their chirps of welcome to the dawn's light, their song stirring awake the sleepy humans that lay beneath their lofty home in the treetops.

Matt was the first to wake. His left elbow was asleep, undoubtedly from using it as a makeshift pillow during the night, and an aching sensation shot through both arms and down his spine. He had stayed up as a guard, but along the way, he had inevitably fallen asleep.

For a moment longer he just laid on his side, hands gripping tightly around the wooden shaft of his spear. His mind reeled with all the possibilities of what could have occurred during the night, a painful twinge of guilt stabbing through his breast. Anything might have happened...

A soft, snuffling snore abruptly drew Matt's attention. His eyes listed to the side, landing on Dell's sleeping back. They were curled on their side, facing away from him, but the steady rise and fall of their rib cage was enough to reassure him—they had made it through the first night. Everything was fine.

Slowly, Matt unpeeled his fingers from around his spear, hissing as the joints in them creaked and popped. He then opened his hands and closed them again, testing to see if he could move without pain. Only once he could did he decide it was time to get up.

Yawning, Matt stood to his full height. Raising his arms to the sky, he began to stretch out the various cricks and kinks that had built up in his muscles, a satisfying crack quivering up his spine as he twisted and turned his shoulders.

Matt exhaled a deep sigh, his face contorting into a mix of contentment and apprehension. He quickly scanned the area; although he had been roused from his slumber, he was desperate to get an understanding of his surroundings. The leftover fog of sleep was long gone, so he was all too eager to gain the lay of the land.

Last night, Matt and his companion had trudged and stumbled through the near-impenetrable darkness for what felt like an eternity—that is, until they eventually came across a gigantic fallen sequoia trunk that was large enough to provide some much-needed shelter. The inside of the trunk resembled a cave in its size and shape, with enough room for five humans to sleep in comfortably. Despite the thick sticky moss and itchy termite dust that littered the ground, the duo were relieved to have found a shelter that wasn't already occupied by some hungry predator. Both silently agreed that such luck was necessary to survive the night.

Scrubbing a hand through his dark locks to dislodge any leftover insect droppings, Matt stuck his head outside of the end of the trunk, craning his neck to look around. His amber eyes glinted in the sunlight, the leathers covering his arms creaking as he adjusted the grip he had on his weapon.

Kraw's jungle was a strange sight to behold in the light of day. A kaleidoscope of greens, yellows and browns filled Matt's vision as he blinked against the early morning sun, casting a pleasant glow over the thick underbrush, punctuated by rocky outcroppings. He noticed for the first time how tight the canopy overhead was, creating a deep darkness that enveloped them and created an almost impenetrable barrier. As he surveyed their surrounding, he knew that they had to be extra cautious as they made their way out of this place; one wrong step and they could be cut or bruised by the sharp rocks jutting from the ground.

Aside from that, Matt was almost painfully aware of the wasted time they had spent sleeping as opposed to traveling. Every minute they lost made it harder to reach their destination quickly. But Matt also knew that pushing too hard and too fast could be detrimental in the long run. And so, they had to strike an equal balance between haste and caution...

And as of that moment, the scale was tipping all the way over, right past caution and all the way into pure laziness. The point was, they needed to leave. Like, yesterday.

Sighing harshly through his nose, Matt ran a hand over his face, dislodging a few streaks of stubborn dirt from his cheek. He wrinkled his nose at it, but shrugged: no point in getting upset when in dirt's home, after all.

“Dell, we need to–” he started to say, his words broken off abruptly as a chill of dread swept over him. In an instant he was paralyzed, his body frozen stiff in an intense state of alertness. His lips drew tight in terror and his eyes widened, the alarm in his gaze rising as he stared at the sight before him.

“Dell!” Matt hissed through gritted teeth, his grip around the spear tightening until his knuckles whitened with the strain. He thought back to the previous night, when he had boldly walked with it in hand. Now it felt like an oppressive weight that only served to be a sharp rebuke of his helplessness.

Unfortunately, Dell slept on. Their breath was slow, steady and calm. There was no noise except the faint sound of their snores clicking through their nose every few seconds. They were so still and serene that Matt half-wondered if they were actually sleeping, and not dead like he feared. For on Dell's right arm was a creature Matt had only seen in one of the research labs, back at New Abraxas and under Newton Scamander's watchful eye– a two-headed snake, covered all over in pearly white scales. A quartet of piercing crimson eyes glinted out from its dual faces, twinkling with an innate, animalistic malice.

As one of the guards stationed at New Abraxas' walls, Matt was constantly brushing up on the various dangers the killer planet might present him with. He knew that this particular snake's extended fangs were home to one of the most disturbing venoms Kraw's vast menagerie of reptiles possessed; a most potent venom, one that acted as an anti-coagulant as well as a paralyzant, causing even the most formidable of prey to slowly bleed out as their muscles were firmly locked in place, utterly unable to struggle against the snake's hold.

The sight of the snake's fangs emerging from the scaly crevice below its mouth and advancing forward sent a feeling of dread stabbing through Matt's gut. The long, yellow-tinted fangs were engorged with poison, dangling obscenely from the snake's mouth. The sight of them had always caused his blood to run cold, even when in a lab's secure setting. Now, it ran cold for an entirely different, far more personal reason: Dell's safety.

Matt's hands trembled as he held the spear tightly, his palms slick with sweat. Deep down, he was afraid of missing the mark and hurting Dell, but he was even more terrified of the venomous serpent that was about to strike. He knew he had the skill to bring it down, but the fear of what it could do before he got to it kept creeping into his mind.

He couldn't live with himself if Dell got bit before he killed it.

An anxious sheen of perspiration beaded upon Matt's brow, prickling uncomfortably, as he fixed his gaze upon the snake—expertly mirroring the serpent's unblinking, steady glare with one of his own.

“Dell!” Matt called out once more, lifting his voice above a shout this time. "Dell, wake up!"

In response, the two-headed snake hissed as it heard a sound it wasn’t familiar with: the sound of Matt's all-too-human and strange voice. It slowly moved from the position it was in, its coiled, muscular body curling tighter against Dell's upper arm in a vice-like grip, probably cutting off some circulation. It was a goddamn wonder they hadn't woke up yet, Matt thought, but an inconvenient one.

The snake's tongue flickered, tasting the air, almost like it was daring Matt to make a move. Swearing beneath his breath, Matt shuffled the tiniest bit closer, aiming a sly, well-timed kick at Dell’s booted feet.

Groaning, Dell rolled to their left, only faintly aware of the coldness they felt on their right arm. Frowning, they slowly opened their eyes, confronted by the bright light produced by the sun. They lifted the hand opposite to the snake-bearing one and, squinting against the beams flooding in through the hollowed tree trunk, Dell's vision slowly adjusted to see Matt's tense figure standing dead ahead, his silhouette blurred and daunting.

“Matty?" Dell asked, their soft, lightly accented voice rasping clumsily around the words. Awareness crept in like a trickling of water down a stream; their mind and throat felt foggy, still thick with sleep. "Wh-whuh's wrong?”

“Don't you dare move. Not a single breath,” Matt warned, teeth gritted in his dread. His body was rigid with tension as he cautiously inched forward, knees scraping against the hard ground to be closer to Dell's place on the floor.

The seriousness of his voice snapped Dell out of their slumbersome state almost completely. Their heart began to beat rapidly, soon rising into a rabbit-quick panic. What was going on? Was it a raptor? Some other form of wild beast creeping up on their campsite? Dell wanted to scream at Matt to spit out what is was, but couldn't muster the words, only able to stare at him in a wild-eyed panic.

“What?” Dell mouthed instead, bright green eyes fearfully darting around to spot what the reason was for Matt's sudden concern. In tune with their heartbeat, the snake hissed, and at that moment, Dell became aware of the dangerous band curled around their arm, steadily tightening its hold in a constricting grip.

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh, hell no,” Dell cussed, closing their eyes tightly shut as they bit down on their bottom lip. Their mind began to race, their breathing shallow as the realization of what was touching them caused panic to take over. An icy, slimy feeling was winding its way up their arm, and their eyes widened in terror as they looked down to see the ghoulish creature that had taken hold of them adjusting its coils.

Voice trembling as they spoke, Dell tried to keep their words quiet to avoid further disturbing the serpent, but couldn't help the tremor of terror that shook through their body from top to bottom. "Fuuuuck. I hate snakes, Matt..."

"I know, Dell," said Matt, his voice sounding from a place that was... suddenly much closer. Alarmingly so. "Just... just hold still, okay?"

Opening their eyes, Dell realized that Matt had indeed moved a few steps nearer to their prone form. His legs were in a deep lunge, his spear poised high above his head. His face was drawn tight between teeth clenched in determination. He was on the attack, muscles tensed, obviously lining up his strike.

“Wait-” Dell hissed, stopping Matt dead in his tracks. Their eyes met his, their ashen face lighting up with scientific curiosity. “What... what species is it?”

Matt blinked, aghast. They wanted to know what kind of snake it was? Now?

“Ah, I-I don’t know if I remember the name exactly. Maybe a pearlescent wan, uh, we saw it in Scamander's lab– first year, remember?” Matt rushed out, his eyes darting from Dell's face to the creature, and then back to their face.

That didn't seem to ring any bells.

“The two-headed snake?” Matt tried, hoping they would recall the one he was trying to describe.

“The two-headed snake?” Dell repeated, slowly turning their head to glance at their arm. Their other arm was firmly tucked against their other side now, and from just a side glance, they could see the snake would attack at any moment—each second seeming like an eternity as the snake's head swayed to and fro, prepared to sink its fangs into their flesh.

They sucked in a sharp breath, the sound whistling, high and reedy, through their teeth.

“Okay," Dell said shakily, trying to inject a note of confidence into their tone. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Put the spear down, Matt. Grab the snake on its left head. It's the weaker one, remember? But... b-be careful. Then grab the tail also, at the exact same time, or else the right head will try to recoil and strike. Then just..." they twitched the fingers vaguely on their free hand. "—yoink it away. And I mean really toss it, dude. Get that thing the hell away from me.”

Matt stared at them. “How... how in the hell do you expect me to do that, Dell? It’s so close to you. What if it attacks before I even touch it?”

Dell's lower lip trembled, trying to fight back the sheer anxious panic screaming inside their brain. They mustered up a small smile, for Matt's sake. “I'm pretty sure it's going to strike either way, so you gotta try, Matt. You have to. Just... be quick about it, okay? I trust you.”

Matt sighed in both defeat and acceptance, knowing that he had to comply with Dell’s instructions. He placed his spear on the ground and slowly, almost hesitantly, he outstretched his hands. He could feel the muscles quiver in his arms as he prepared to do something that he knew was dangerous, both to his own life and his dear friend's.

His heart raced as he prayed that this time his reflexes would be fast enough—just this once, if never again. Then, with a swift and sudden motion, he snatched the snake up, just as Dell said he should.

Hissing and spitting, its body twisting around Matt's hands like a living piece of especially muscular rope, the snake flailed violently against Matt's grip. Its jaw flexed and unflexed, head turning at odd angles as it tried to attack the both of them at once, fangs dripping with faint streams of venom.

“Now, Matt! Throw it!” Dell shrieked, their voice much louder as they scrambled up against the opposite wall, trying to put as much distance between themself and the snake as possible.

Swiftly turning, Matt marched to the entrance, hauled his arm back, and hurled the snake against a distant tree, watching as its body bounced off the bark with a hard thunk. Before either of them could blink, some kind of hawk had swooped in from above, picking the snake right off.

There was a beat of silence, punctuated only by the sound of their heavy breathing. Until:

“Whoa! What kind of bird was that?” Dell demanded, finally scrambling to their feet. They watched with fascination as the bird flew away and, suddenly, it was like nothing had ever happened at all. “Well. That was... eventful. Nothing quite like a bracing death experience to really prepare you for the day ahead, right?"

“Says the one that was scared,” Matt huffed shakily, rolling his eyes as he bent down to pick up his weapon. He dusted off some imaginary dust, bracing the spear against his shoulder before turning to look down at Dell.

“I so wasn’t,” Dell scoffed, folding their arms over their chest. In truth, they could still feel the tremors running down their spine, and the thought that they had almost died a few seconds earlier seemed nearly incomprehensible. That two-headed snake was one of the lowest predators that inhabited the jungles of Kraw. It was likely at the very bottom of the food pyramid, and yet... the level of danger was almost enough to kill a full-sized adult such as Dell. It was enough to make anyone a little wary.

“Well, I'd say we've wasted enough time around here,” Matt reminded them, his voice breaking through the fog wrapped around their mind. He walked a few steps to the entrance, peering outside once more. “We gotta get out there if we're gonna get there in... five days, right?"

Dell looked at his back, a tiny frown appearing between their eyebrows.

When only silenced answered him, Matt glanced back at them, gaze darting around to see if he had missed something.

"What's up?" he asked, suddenly worried. Had Dell been bit, after all? "What is it?"

“I'm...” Dell began, the words hesitant, almost sheepish in tone. "I'm hungry."

If there were any words Matt had not expected to hear in this situation, it was certainly those two that sat at the top of his list...

Chuckling, Matt shook his head, picking up one of their backpacks. “Alright then, we'll eat as we move. Grab your stuff and let's get going."

Groaning in half-protest, Dell followed his lead, stuffing the rolled up bag of their belongings under one of their arms. Within minutes, their makeshift camp was all packed away, and they were once again ready to traverse the dangerous wilds around them.

Breakfast was a meager affair—a few strips of salty beef jerky and some dry hardtack biscuits soaked in water from the outcropping spring nearby. But they didn't bring up this fact–this was the breakfast that they had brought with them, and they would be damned if it wasn't going to be eaten. If anything, this journey was going to make them tougher than any civilized folk out there.

With a sense of trepidation, they moved forward, their feet dragging as they stumbled blindly towards an unknown fate. Unaware of the dark eyes that watched their every move...

But aware of one another—aware of the bond between them, a bond that had been forged in the wilderness and which could never be broken. A bond that would ensure that no matter what dangers awaited them, they would face it together. Together, or not at all.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Dell stared down at their feet, sighing as they felt the sweat roll down their back. Oppressive humidity and small, droning insects filled the air around them, the sweltering warmth of the day churning the buzzing pests up into an angry cloud.

But that was just how it was. Outside the walls of New Abraxas, the jungles of Kraw grew untamed and wild, its slender vines and gnarled roots seeming to grasp the entire world in an interminable choke-hold. As a result, the shadows were darker and deeper when in the depths of the tropical forest, the sparse light of the sun filtering through the trees managing to illuminate only the smallest of areas, the rest consumed by shade. Greenery crept over the ground and suffocated the soil and shale with its constricting grip, no order to its chaotic growth.

To a researcher like Dell, it felt like heaven. There were so many beasts, insects and plants they had never seen before; even if they were not the first person ever to identify these species, it still gave them an incredible rush to personally discover them! They became practically lost in the details, too busy inspecting the intricacies of everything to remember how to breathe— and were it not for Matt, they would've tripped over many an inconveniently-placed tree root. They sketched and wrote quickly in their small notebook with its tattered cover and cracked leather binding, smudging the charcoal slightly as they fought to capture every little thing they glimpsed or heard in the brush.

But the fascination was... well, slowly dwindling. In its place was the harsh reality of trekking through what amounted to miles and miles of unruly, unkind and uncaring wilderness. The sun burned fiercely, causing both Dell and Matt to sweat profusely. Their skin stung from the broiling heat and exposure alike, and although it had only been a day of walking and cutting a wayward path through the jungle’s thick vegetation, their water supply was starting to run extremely, dangerously low.

Dell looked up, squinting as they stared at the sky, the faint light filtering through the trees shining directly into their eyeballs. What's more, their shoulder blades were crying out in protest, straining at the pain of carrying their heavy backpack— full of only the most necessary of research materials, of course! —for hours upon hours.

I feel like dying, they thought.

“W-we need to take a break,” they panted out, aloud this time, looking over to Matt.

Unlike Dell, he seemed to be more in his element. He had taken his shirt off at some point (leaving his leather armor), apparently, the sweat glistening over his dark skin and muscled form. Like, actually glittering and shiz, like one of those vamps in Twilight. He had a big grin on his face, the usual lines of worry smoothed out by pure contentment.

“Correction,” Dell sighed, stopping suddenly, and plopped their butt onto the ground. They leaned heavily against their backpack, eyes closed as they tilted their head back, neck exposed to the elements and several hungry mosquitoes. “I need a break.”

“Want me to help you with your bag?” Matt suggested, stretching a hand out.

“I'm sure that would help. But…” Dell trailed off apologetically, straightening their legs. They could not afford to move a muscle at that moment. If they did, they might actually cry from exhaustion. “Just… gimme a minute, okay?”

Rummaging through their backpack blindly, they pulled out their bottled water, greedily drinking its contents in one long, slow pull. Although it was a simple thing, it was an indescribable sensation to finally feel the tiniest bit of cold temperature against their skin again. The cool liquid trickled down their throat, and all they could do was close their eyes and enjoy the moment.

Amused, Matt sat down next to them. The wind picked up at that moment, gently rustling through the leaves of the trees and thicket around them. Matt and Dell sighed almost as one being, both feeling the thick, sticky layers of sweat finally, finally drying on their skin. The breeze's caress was a welcome reprieve from the oppressively heavy atmosphere they'd been suffering through all day long.

For a long while they sat in silence, each enjoying the other's company. There was no need for words; the bond they shared was beyond the bonds of friendship, having grown into an almost familial connection through the years of mutual struggle they had gone through. They had first met when they were thirteen; a moment that had seemed largely inconsequential at the time, but was unarguably the beginning of their budding friendship— and their time at New Abraxas, as fate would have it.

Matt shook his head slightly, drawing himself out of daydreams, the sweet lull of reminiscence feeling like a fog over his thoughts. Mouth flattening into a grim, thin-lipped line, he adjusted his hands around the grip of his spear, scrutinizing the dark foliage around them with a keen focus that rivaled that of even the most alert of guard dogs.

He couldn't afford to get distracted. He had to be ready for anything. ANYTHING. If something got to Dell, like that weird-as-heck snake nearly did, well he'd just have to lie down and let it take him, too. He couldn't stomach the thought.

“Uh," Dell said suddenly, drawing Matt's attention. "I think I... just drank the last sip of water we have...”

They turned the bottle upside down to show their point, dangling it over their palm. Not even the tiniest trickle of condensation gathered around the neck of the bottle or dripped onto their hand— it was, well and truly, bone dry.

Great.

“We should look for a water source before night falls,” said Matt, suppressing a sigh. "Anything on that map of yours?"

“Well…” Dell's words trailed off into incoherent mumbling as they pulled out the map, studying it. A beat later, they cleared their throat, speaking more clearly, “By the looks of it... there should be some kind of water canal a few miles away from here.”

Eyes narrowing, Matt leaned in close as they pointed it out on the map, following along as they traced the path with their index finger. It was as simple as getting from point A to point B, it seemed. You know, barring getting attacked by wild animals or some other vicious creature on the way. Hah.

He nodded, smacking his spear against his palm with a hard thwack. “Right. That seems manageable. You ready to pick up and head that way, then?”

Dell huffed, slumping further against their backpack. “Just... fiiive more minutes, please.”

Matt's laughter rang in their ears, bright and reluctantly amused. Dell sighed, staring at the sun through the gaps in the treetop canopy above. The sun beams filtering through looked almost like a thousand tiny stars; a slow grin crept onto their lips at the thought. If they didn't think about it too much, everything could almost seem... normal. Like they were back in New Abraxas, just watching the day go by like usual, boring and same old same old...

Matt's laughter had trailed off by that point, replaced by silence. Dell heard him shifting around like he had ants in his pants, though, so they figured he must have something to say, but for some reason hadn't quite worked up the guts to come out and say it. That was unusual for Matt, so they figured it must be pretty important. He only got like this if he'd been thinking about something good and hard for a long while, after all. If only he would just tell them—

“Do you regret it?” Matt blurted out, his abrupt question very nearly startling them out of their skin.

“Regret? Regret what?” Dell repeated, turning their head in his direction. The amused smile on their lips was an answer in and of itself, the mischievous twinkle in their eyes really giving it away.

“I guess not,” Matt sighed, pulling his knees up towards his chest. An oddly self-conscious gesture, for him. “You know... once we find these old ruins... what happens next?”

Dell hmmm-ed for a moment.

“Well! Find an artifact or something. Go back to New Abraxas with it. Deliver it for study,” they listed off the items on their fingers one at a time, nodding in satisfaction. “Then, glory will be ours!”

“But…” Matt licked his lips. They were dry and chapped, he noticed, so he settled for pensively sucking them in against his teeth. “What if we... don’t find anything, Dell?”

It was like the thought hadn't even occurred to his companion. Dell pursed their lips, a tiny furrow appearing between their brows. “Well... then we’re just screwed, aren’t we?” they said mulishly, turning their attention back to the sunlight streaming through the canopy overhead, mesmerizing and beautiful in equal measure. Definitely better than New Abraxas' view, wasn't it?

Their reply wasn't one Matt had expected, and he couldn’t help but laugh. His laughter was carried on the light breeze, and with nothing but the infectious sound hanging in the air between them, Dell couldn’t help but also break out into a fit of giggles. This was it, the extent of their relationship and lives in general. Finding the humor in every situation was what they did best, after all.

“Hey. D’you think we should have BBQ tonight?” Matt suggested, apropos of nothing.

“What?” Dell asked. They twisted to look at him, the motion rustling the leaves under their body and loudly crinkling their backpack. “How on earth would we have a BBQ, dude?”

Matt shrugged, unbothered. “I could hunt. Kill a small animal or something, once it nears nightfall and they start stirring around. That's in my training, you know.”

“Neither of us knows how to cook,” Dell argued, sitting up. “I know that wasn’t in your guard-dude training, so don’t even try to play with me.”

Their companion huffed loudly in annoyance, but seemed to be fighting off a smile.

“We could always try. It might even be fun, and definitely an improvement on that beef jerky we have,” Matt replied easily, shooting them a quick grin. The promise of juicy and tender meat on his taste buds made his mouth water and his stomach give a longing gurgle. He really looked forward to nighttime for the opportunity. “What's better than a nice, home-cooked meal, anyway?”

“Well, since we evidently have the energy to sit around and talk dinner plans, I guess we should get going!” Dell announced, pushing themselves up from the ground with wobbly arms. Straightening to their full height— still a head or two shorter than Matt —they placed their hands on their hips, legs planted firmly in determination. “Let’s find that water. And food!”

“Only food and research gets you this excited,” Matt said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. A few minutes later, they were back to walking through the jungle— moving quietly beneath the massive fronds and crawling vines of Kraw’s native flora, their footsteps muffled by the dense leaf litter scattered over the ground.

Slowly, though, they left behind the thick foliage they had seen all day, gradual changes emerging in the environment around them. For one thing, the trees became thinner and their roots more sparse, giving way to a more reed-like variety of plant, and the hue of the leaves and stalks coloring the world around them gradually transitioned into a lighter, slightly yellowed green. Soon enough, gone was the towering forest with its hulking tree trunks and elephant ear fronds, and in its place was a dense curtain of cane-shaped vegetation.

“Wow... what is this?” Dell said, stopping in their tracks. They tilted their head towards the sky, slowly rotating in a 360-motion, engraving the scenery into their brain. “This looks like...”

“Bamboo,” Matt muttered, stepping up beside them. He peered around, eyes narrowing. “Pretty thick, too. Low visibility from here on out, then. We'll need to tread carefully.”

Matt turned to the left all of a sudden, spine snapping into a straight line with tension, his ears prickling as he listened closer.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, tone sharp. He turned to look at Dell, who held on tighter to the straps of their backpack, sweat licking every inch of their skin. They were too exhausted and afraid to say anything, and could only shake their head.

Matt frowned. The sound he had heard was faint, but... vaguely familiar. For the life of him, though, he just couldn't think of what it was...

Dell paced forward a little, head cocked to the side, clearly listening. They stopped after taking two steps, turning to look at Matt, eyes widening.

"I hear it, too," they said, their expression morphing into one of delight. "Running water!"

They took off tramping through the bamboo forest, soon coming across a clearing between the tall, reedy plants. Cutting through that clearing was something akin to a river, though perhaps not as wide as a proper one. A very small river, mind, and riddled with smooth stones, but it looked deep enough for them to wade in...

Seeing water, Dell was the first to rush to it, practically galloping over the ground to get there before Matt did. Matt could totally understand their haste, since he was also feeling pretty parched and overheated, but he held back a ways to keep watch for danger. Someone needed to be the responsible one in their duo, after all.

Visibly tense, he watched as Dell knelt down at the bank, dipping their hands into the clear water and letting it run between their fingers. The sun glimmered over the water’s rippling surface, reflecting light everywhere, the glow turning Dell's ordinarily dark brown hair into a soft-spun coppery halo.

Birds cawed in the distance, but it wasn't alarm calls, and the gentle burbling of the water did sound mighty nice. By degrees, Matt allowed himself to relax, also approaching the river's edge.

Ah, well. Everything seemed clear, at least. He was glad for the opportunity to forget their worries for a little while, anyway, and he could tell that Dell felt much the same.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Matt strode into the rippling shallows past a disgruntled Dell, his light brown eyes fixed on the far bank and reeds, alert for any lurking ambush predators. He unlaced and kicked off his worn boots, peeling off his damp leathers and undershirt soon after, revealing a lean, muscular frame. Then, he set down his bag full of supplies in a drier patch of grassy mud beside the gurgling stream and waded further in.

Dell remained crouched firmly on the bank, their hands still cupped and dripping water, appearing downright annoyed.

"That was supposed to be our drinking water," they griped, their green eyes narrowing.

But Matt paid them no mind as he waded deeper into the cool depths, becoming completely submerged up to his chest within seconds.

"We can take water from upstream, instead," he called back to Dell, who stayed on the bank where it was safe and dry, clearly wavering and hesitant to follow him in. "It's likely safer there, anyway... less stuff washing down."

The young man took a deep breath and dunked his head under the cool stream, his dark hair cascading around his face in thick, wet braids. As he resurfaced, droplets flew from his hair like tiny sparkling diamonds, and he shook his head vigorously to rid himself of the excess water, not unlike a dog. An audible sigh escaped his lips as the spray cooled his skin, a thin ghosting of steam rising into the air as it evaporated upon contact.

With a light sniff, Dell cupped their hands to gather more of the clear water and poured some onto their face and neck, rubbing it in with their fingers. The icy droplets provided an instant balm for the heat and hazy humidity from the sun's rays, though Dell couldn't help but flinch as the coldness seeped into their burning, flushed skin. Satisfied, they wiped their face with their hands, feeling pretty freaking refreshed and rejuvenated.

Glancing up, they watched Matt splash about like a freaking dolphin for a moment, their feet firmly rooted on the shore, chewing their bottom lip. Uncertainty glimmered in their eyes as they studied the water, which... appeared mostly clear, save for some areas upstream that were clouded with muddy brown murk.

“Well, uh... have fun," Dell muttered eventually, edging backwards and away from the water, a few fibrous reeds—piripiri, they thought—brushing against their pant legs as they went. "I've seen aaaaaaaaall six of the Lake Placid movies, and I'm not playing around with that."

"Huh? What's Lake Placid?" asked Matt, sounding mostly unconcerned, the words coming out all spluttered and croaky around some water.

Eugh. Gross. How he could dunk his sweaty body into the water and still feel comfortable drinking it was absolutely confounding.

Not bothering to answer, Dell scanned the area until they spotted a large grey rock nearby. It was craggy, wide and squat, with a perfect little nook on top for sitting. With relief flooding through them, they made their way over to it and dropped their bag with a thud. Settling onto the rough surface, they turned to watch their friend's antics from a safe, splash-free distance, folding their legs beneath them.

As he sank into the water up to his armpits, Matt blinked some droplets from his eyes and squinted up towards the shore, watching in genuine confusion as Dell sat down.

"You're really not getting in?" he called out, sounding rather disappointed. He brushed his braided hair back from his face with a great sweeping gesture, lips pursing. "You're gonna stink like hell if you don't wash off some of that gunky sweat and dirt and who knows what else."

Shrugging their shoulders, Dell sat comfortably atop the large, mossy boulder, their legs crossed and eyes scanning the dense plant life around them. The air was cooler here in this low valley shaded over by the jungle canopy, a welcome respite from the stifling heat of their journey so far. Mosquitoes and maddening midges still buzzed around them incessantly, sure, and the rustling of the leaves and vines as the muggy, hot breeze blew through them set their teeth on edge—who knew what could be lurking in the underbrush, movements masked by the wind's whispering—but overall, it was a fine spot.

The scene before them brought back bittersweet memories of their own world. Their old world. Sitting on the bank of a narrow, gurgling creek, their father at their side. Their bare feet dipped in the cool water, dangling over the edge while they focused on their fishing lines. A smile on their face as they munched on triangular sandwiches and drank chocolatey Yoo-hoos...

As Dell daydreamed about camping here for the night, maybe fishing the stream, Matt emerged from the river and approached them on silent feet. Not even the water droplets dripping from his form were able to break his cat-like stealth, a skill learned during his time spent training at the University of Abraxas.

Not making a whisper of sound, he managed to sneak up until he was literally directly beside his friend.

Dell was so very distracted by their examination of the surrounding array of verdant greenery that they didn't notice anything amiss. Thus, when a hand suddenly clasped around their shoulder, they shrieked in surprise, whipping back around and almost clocking Matt across the schnoz—the other only barely managing to dodge just in time, breathing out a startled "whoa!" in response.

Thoroughly startled by his sudden appearance and quite possibly on the verge of a heart attack, Dell clutched at their chest and glared up at him, mouth agape and eyes ablaze. "DUDE! Why are you creeping up on me like that?"

Blinking a bit to recover from his astonishment at being swung at, Matt's brown eyes sparkled good-naturedly as he stretched out his hand, as if beckoning them towards him and the water. "C'mon, Dell. You're gonna be miserable if you don't rinse off. It's for your own good and mine."

Eyes narrowing to deadly green slits, Dell hesitated and drew back, watching Matt's movements warily.

"Nuh-uh. I'm not getting in," they repeated firmly, crossing their arms over their chest. Their feet shifted to be more firmly planted in the dirt, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. "There's probably snakes and stuff in there. Piranhas. I like animals and all, but I'm not getting snakebit just to get clean. You can deal."

Unfortunately, Matt got a slightly sly look on his face just then, and began to move as if to grab them. He moved slowly, though, almost pantomiming the movements—giving Dell plenty of time to withdraw if they really were that worked up about it.

"You can't lift me anyways!" Dell argued, though they cracked a hint of a smile, only just starting to rise from their seat as they tried to reason with him.

Seemingly just to prove them wrong, Matt lifted them up and into the air in one great swoop. The gobsmacked expression on their face, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, clearly showed that Dell... really was not expecting him to go through with it, much less for him to do it so effortlessly.

Then, he promptly turned and strode back towards the river, Dell slung across his shoulders like a sack of very angry, curly-headed potatoes.

"Matt!" Dell's fingers dug into his broad shoulders, holding on for dear life, their nails leaving tiny, discolored crescent-shaped marks as they desperately clung to him. Soon enough, Matt stood at the very center of the slow-moving river, Dell continuing to struggle on his back, legs kicking out in a futile effort to break free. "Let me go!"

Matt huffed, thoroughly amused. "Okay, if you say so."

He lifted Dell high over his head, and with a mighty heave, dumped them into the water, just like that. The river swallowed them whole, creating a loud splash that echoed across the shady spot between the tall stalks of pale green bamboo, spooking off a frenzied flurry of nearby birds from the tropical canopy hanging high over their heads.

Luckily, the current was gentle and the swell of the river cushioned their fall.

Instantly, Matt felt Dell's hands grip onto his lower arm for support, their legs kicking frantically as they regained their footing in the water. Their head emerged from the depths with a loud spluttering, a pair of baleful green eyes glowering at him from beneath a mop of soaking wet brown curls.

"You conniving son of a..." Dell's eyes narrowed as they muttered curses under their breath, brushing some flecks of clingy water lettuce off their arms. Even still, a slight grin tugged at the corners of their lips when they saw Matt's playful expression. He was visibly trying to hold back his laughter, his cheeks turning slightly red from the tremendous effort.

"You think this is funny?" Dell exclaimed dramatically, gently thwacking him on the arm. "Well, congratulations. Now I'm soaked." They gestured to their wet clothes, damp from the impromptu dip, and after considering for a moment... smacked the water with the flat of their hand, sending a great splash directly at Matt.

Matt's laughter bubbled up as the water slapped him across the face, echoing across the clearing as he kicked away from them. Of course they chased after him, movements slowed by the water but determined to not let him get off that easy. And for a few moments as they roughhoused in the stream, the pair didn't think about the hardships ahead, nor the danger of the untamed jungle around them.

But sadly, it couldn't last. Eventually, Matt swam to the river bank, climbing out in a fluid movement. He bent to retrieve his shirt and hunting leathers, moving to pull them back on.

Watching his strategic retreat, Dell clicked their tongue and paddled back to the center of the river, slumping a little into the water's welcome embrace. Their clothes drifted and rippled around them, dragging atop the surface; they were suddenly glad they'd left anything important in their bag, like the map.

"Coward," they muttered haughtily, receiving only a cheeky thumbs-up from Matt in answer. Typical.

They leaned back, letting their body float on the cool water as they closed their eyes, their hair fanning out around their head like a liquid, floaty halo. Despite initially refusing to get in the stream, they couldn't help but feel grateful that Matt had insisted; it felt good to be somewhat scrubbed of dirt again.

The peacefulness of the moment was suddenly interrupted by a loud noise from the nearby stalks of bamboo lining the bank opposite to the one Matt was standing on, way too close to Dell for comfort—a sharp, dry crack, like the sound of a twig snapping in two. At first, Dell ignored it, thinking it was just a bird or some other small creature, and tried to focus on the serenity of the gently babbling water. But gradually, the sound grew louder and more rhythmically persistent with each passing second, like an entire riot of tree branches being split in twain all at once, making it simply impossible for them to ignore.

"Hey, Matt..." said Dell, slowly straightening up so that their feet ghosted over the rock-laden river bottom. Their head cocked to the side, brows furrowing as they listened to the approaching series of cracks. They kicked their feet against the river bed, drifting carefully towards shore. "Do you, er, hear that?"

"Yeah," muttered Matt, who had already grown quite alert on the bank. He dragged on his worn leather boots in two hasty yanks, not even bothering to tie up the laces, his free hand already searching for his barb-tipped spear, discarded somewhere in the mud and reeds. "Dell, you gotta get out of the—"

A thunderous CRACK split the stillness of the jungle as the bamboo was torn asunder by a monstrous figure. A hulking four-legged beast, twice the size of a grizzly bear and covered in dense brown fur, wrenched its way through the splinters left behind—lupine in shape, with pointed ears and a long, brush-like tail swaying at its back. Its eyes were missing, replaced by a grotesque snout lined with writhing, worm-like tendrils that squirmed around its pink nostrils, flicking and scenting at the air in search of prey.

Shimmering, saliva-slick teeth glinted in the shadows cast by the trees, and its serpentine tongue whipped through the air as it lunged towards Dell, who stood utterly frozen, waist-deep in the murky water. The monster's massive claws sliced through the dense foliage like a hot knife through butter, honing in on its next meal with deadly precision.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Birds took flight in a flurry of panicked flapping as the creature barreled through the towering stalks of bamboo, leaving a trail of splintered carnage in its wake. Its massive, brown-furred body towered over Dell, its jaws dripping with drool and emitting a strange hissing sound, its clawed, shovel-like paws digging into the grassy edge of the bank as it made to lunge into the stream.

Moving backwards, Dell's heart pounded with commingled fear and adrenaline as their body and flailing limbs plunged through the murky water, desperately grasping for solid ground. The dark, swirling depths seemed to taunt them as they stumbled backwards, practically losing their footing with each frantic step.

"Run, Dell!" Matt's voice echoed pretty unhelpfully through the pandemonium as he snatched up their supply bags and grasped his spear in a white-knuckled grip, at last scrambling fully to his feet. He didn't recognize this eyeless mammalian creature from the University of Abraxas's bestiary, so he wasn't actually sure if he could kill it, but he was more than prepared to try.

All he needed... was for the thing to move just a bit closer, and for a good opening.

Each labored step had Dell's breaths heaving from their chest, ragged gasps and hiccuped pants filling the air as they fought through the murky, turbulent water. The thick mud clung to their boots, making each step a precarious slip and slide over slimy rocks and shadowy water plants, their soaked clothes weighing them down like anchors, tugging at their every move, hindering their escape.

As they scrambled up the steep river bank, their lungs burned with exertion and panic—their hands grasping at slick reeds and squelching earth, searching for purchase or at least a decent handhold to wrench themselves out of the water's grasp.

Behind them, the monstrous creature crashed into the river with a deafening SPLASH, its massive body rippling with sleek muscles, undulating like a great brown-furred serpent as it began to knife through the water after them. Its snout, resembling that of a wriggling mole's but at least a thousand times the size of a regular one, was pointed directly towards Dell's retreating back.

Despite Matt's frantic attempts to distract it with a barrage of hurled insults and sharp stones, the beast remained fixated on its original target, the sound of its powerful strokes and Dell's panic-stricken splashing cutting across the once-peaceful clearing.

Trembling, Dell's fingers clawed and fumbled uselessly at the river's edge, the mind-numbing terror ringing inside their skull serving to dull their usually keen senses. Until suddenly, rough hands grabbed the back of their shirt and yanked them upward—the tattered fabric constricting around Dell's neck, making it hard to breathe as they were hoisted out of the water and chucked onto solid ground like they weighed absolutely nothing.

Dell sprawled across the mossy bank, flat on their back and feeling mighty grateful, gasping for air and shaking from the shock of their near-death experience.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it.

Without sparing a single moment, Matt's hands clenched tightly around Dell's upper arm and shirt collar, dragging them upright again. Seconds later, the pair smashed through the dense undergrowth and towering bamboo, the scrabbling sound of the beast's claws dragging across the wet earth thudding after them. The loud rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs filled Dell's ears as they sprinted through the jungle, Matt's desperate wheezing for breath and pounding footsteps spurring them on.

Their feet slid on the slick forest floor, tripping over roots and fallen branches as they struggled to keep up with Matt's frenzied, almost inhuman speed, thorns and brambles snagging and tearing at their clothing. Each breath felt like fire in their lungs, only urgency and sour adrenaline driving them forward, because oxygen sure wasn't cutting it right about now.

“Come on, Dell!” Matt's voice was a desperate, rough shout in their ear, everything happening so quickly that Dell's mind almost couldn't process it all. Their disorderly surroundings blurred past them in a whirl of shadows and greenery as they were propelled through the underbrush, the searing sting of branches whipping against their face and arms as they sprinted through the heavy forest at breakneck speed—stumbling just a few steps behind Matt, running for their actual life.

And then, without warning, the ground vanished from under Dell's feet mid-stride, sending them hurtling downward.

Their sense of time became distorted, mere seconds stretching into eternities as they tumbled forward in a rush of adrenaline and fear, lost in the abyss of their descent. Dell would later only remember the sensation of falling—a dizzying, blurry nose-dive into a deep ravine that seemed to stretch on forever.

As they fell, the sharp edges of rocks lining the pit's sides tore at their body with brutal force, jolting them and shredding the skin of their arms and legs with each bounce. A gut-wrenching shriek escaped their lips, a desperate bid for help that was cruelly and abruptly silenced upon impact with the unforgiving, rocky bottom.

Darkness took over, enveloping Dell in its icy embrace as they lay utterly still upon the cold, hard ground.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Dell's mind was engulfed in a deafening buzz, accompanied by a searing headache that threatened to split their skull in two. Every nerve in their body felt like it was on fire, leaving them curled up in agony, limbs tucked in against their torso, chest heaving for air. As they struggled to regain control of their senses, the pain only seemed to intensify, pulsating throughout every inch of their body like one giant, ugly bruise.

With immense effort, Dell managed to prise their eyes open. But even that simple action felt like shards of glass were scraping against their eyelids, some strange, sticky and wet substance dripping down their forehead and into their eyes—blood, probably, since the air positively reeked of something coppery and sharply metallic.

What's more, their throat felt tender and parched, their brain filled with a thirst so intense it could only be described as feeling... completely, utterly dehydrated, a splitting headache drumming behind their eyes seemingly in sync with every beat of their heart. It was excruciating, a sensation that made them dearly wish they could just fucking pass out and escape this new, hellish reality they'd been very rudely subjected to.

Dell's body rolled to the left, and they felt the rugged terrain beneath them scrape against their bare arms. The sharp rocks dug into their skin, causing them to let out tortured whimpers that were drowned out by the crunching of loose stones under their weight. They struggled to push themselves up using both arms, but their hands were raw and slick with blood. Every time they touched the gritty, cold ground, searing agony licked across the meat of their palms, rendering the task considerably more unpleasant than usual.

Finally, Dell managed to muster up the will to lift their head, only to be confronted with a ghastly sight that made their stomach lurch.

A mangled creature lay inches from their nose, its limp body utterly broken from the fall, its brown-furred muscles all jumbled and rent across the jagged rocks. Its jaw hung open at a ghoulish angle, the bones shattered and teeth jutting out at odd angles, its mole-like snout dripping blood from the nostrils. Gore was splattered everywhere, flowing over the ground in crimsons rivers and seeping into Dell's clothing and skin like sticky, warm syrup. Slimy, glistening innards spooled out onto the ground from its split stomach like pinkish-grey thread, leaving a trail of blackened ichor in their wake.

Dell recoiled, bile rising in their throat as the putrid stench of death enveloped them. Desperately covering their mouth and nose with a quivering hand, violet retching shudders wracking their body, their green eyes darting around in alarm, scanning their surroundings.

They were at the very bottom of a deep, dank pit, only the forest canopy visible high above. Thick, gnarled roots loomed overhead, creeping down the sides of the ravine like skeletal fingers grasping for their flesh, the steep walls lined with gritty, gravel-like dirt and jagged rocks. Glancing around, it sank in for Dell just how close they had been to meeting the same unfortunate fate as the massive, beastly carcass splayed out beside them.

"Matt," Dell whispered, feeling the frantic, fearful fluttering of their heart inside their chest. The panic crawled up their throat like a living thing, choking them, making it difficult to speak. They licked their dry, cracked lips, rasping out the words a bit louder. "Matt, are you okay?"

They held their breath for a long moment, waiting for a response. But only silence answered them, oppressive and cold.

In a burst of fear and urgency, Dell tried again, their voice strained with dread as they imagined the very worst. "Matt!"

"I'm right here, you idiot," a hoarse voice called out, faint and reedy, but definitely nearby.

That sounded like Matt, Dell thought, but something was off. The older man's ordinarily calm voice sounded distorted, twisted up with pain. Bright concern flashed in their mind at the realization, temporarily overriding any sense of self-preservation.

Dell's body trembled with hurt and exhaustion as they struggled to stand up from the ground, but eventually, with the help of a sturdy handhold on an exposed root, they managed to drag themself to their feet. They grasped desperately at the wall with a hand to keep themselves upright, panting faintly, their shoulders sagging.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, they took their first step.

Each movement was torture, their battered muscles howling in protest as they inched along, their footsteps shuffling and delicate, but they couldn't give up—wouldn't give up. They had to reach Matt. They had to make sure he was alright.

Blood dripped from the many minor scratches littering their body as they limped and hobbled towards the sound of Matt's voice, stumbling a little over small stones and roots—until finally, they fell onto their knees at the very precipice of where the pit seemed to reach an incline, just on the other side of the dead animal's carcass. And there Matt was, slumped against a jagged rock but appearing mostly alert—absolutely covered in dirt and blood, but alive.

"Oh, Matty," Dell whispered, tears streaming down their cheeks. Their voice cracked as their breath hitched, their body shaking with a silent sob, their hands reaching out to grasp onto his—fingers squeezing fervently despite the pain. "I thought you were gone, dead or worse. I thought... I thought you'd left me here all alone."

“Of course not,” Matt replied, his voice scarcely a whisper as he forced a smile through gritted teeth. "I could never, Dell. You know that."

Swiping a stinging, rubbed-raw hand over their eyes, Dell scanned Matt, their own injuries forgotten for the moment. While Dell only had a lot of bruising and some minor cuts, blood pooled thickly on the ground under Matt, staining his clothes and ashen skin with dark ruby liquid, his right hand clutching weakly at his side.

“Are you alright? What the hell happened?” Dell wanted to know, unable to contain their concern. Their eyes frantically darted over his battered body, noting the angry gashes that riddled his skin, but none of those minor injuries compared to the one marring his side, blood oozing out from the gaps between his fingers. They gasped, horrified. “You're bleeding all over the place!"

“One thing at a time, geez,” Matt ground out around his clenched teeth, his head lolling back in obvious pain. His eyes squeezed shut as he sucked in a ragged breath, flinching as it jostled his wounded side. “I’ll tell you everything, trust me, but first... first, I think you're gonna have to patch me up a little bit, Dell.”

His brown eyes fluttered open again, fixing on Dell's face, and he gingerly removed his hand from the laceration on his side, his fingers trembling and stained nearly black. It was a grisly sight, the deep crimson liquid staining his shirt and dripping onto the ground with every beat of his heart.

At the sight, Dell's entire body abruptly felt like it went numb, every limb suddenly heavy and unresponsive, their skin ashen and clammy. They were simultaneously cold and drenched in a fearful sweat, their mind racing as they stared at the deep wound that tore through flesh and muscle, its ragged edges oozing with dark red blood. Fear and disbelief flooded their mind, rendering them speechless and immobile, if only for a moment.

Panic flooded their thoughts, jumbled and frantic, their words equally mishmashed as they spilled past their lips."What... what do I do?! So much blood... this shouldn't have ever happened. Should I try to stop it? ... should I even touch it? What can I even—"

“Hey. Hey, Dell. Dell!” Matt barked, his voice echoing across the inhospitable, tangled wilderness all around them, snapping Dell back to reality. Sweat beaded brightly on his forehead, a clear sign of the physical and mental strain the situation was putting him through. "Find the packs first, okay? And bring them here. We'll figure it out. You got this. I'll hold out for you. I can handle it.”

“Right... right, y-yeah. The backpacks. We need to stop the blood," Dell muttered frantically, almost to themself, their frantic eyes darting from side to side, scanning back and forth. "The... backpacks."

“Over there," Matt heaved a sigh, jutting his chin towards the right.

Mission secured, Dell nodded, their eyes distant as they began to focus, locking in on the task. If they didn't do that, they were sure to curl up into a ball of tears and shivering forever, and they'd be no good to anyone whilst in that state, especially Matt.

"I'll be back," they muttered, rising to their feet, taking two hesitant steps forward. They gazed back at him over their shoulder, their eyes pleading. "And if you die, I'm gonna be so mad at you. So... don't do that, okay? Don't."

Their boots crunched over the ground as they limped away, their movements determined, going in search of their backpacks. They disappeared around the bleeding carcass of the eyeless beast that had tried to kill them earlier, visibly trying to avoid looking at it.

Left slumped and bleeding on the ground, all alone, Matt huffed, his limbs still trembling faintly from the receding rush of adrenaline. He glanced over at the dead animal. His spear was still lodged in its side, jutting out proudly from between its ribs. He'd managed to nail the thing just before it and Dell tripped over the edge of the pit... though not before it spun around and dragged him down with it, too.

Matt's face twisted into a grimace as he stared at his hand, the bright red liquid staining his fingertips, already crusting under his fingernails.

"I guess I'm not going to die today," he chuckled weakly. But his bravado quickly faded away, his brown eyes darting around the bottom of the rocky ravine, on the alert for any signs of danger; some new horror that might be attracted by the scent of easy, wounded prey. "Fuck... I hope not, at least."

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

A howling wind whipped through the dense jungle, rustling the leaves of trees that were countless in number.

Dell shivered as they gazed into the endless darkness, feeling the emptiness clawing at their chest. They peered up at the moon through the soaring treetops, its pale, silvery face a stark contrast to the deep shadows that surrounded them. Despite their best efforts, tears welled up in their eyes, their quivering lips barely able to hold back a shaky, totally miserable sob.

The jungle was unforgiving, and they were all too aware of how small and insignificant they were in its vastness.

Earlier that day, Dell had frantically searched for their backpacks for several minutes, eventually finding them discarded at the far side of the ravine. Gathering them up in their arms, they sprinted back to where Matt lay—only to find him out cold, utterly motionless and dead to the world. An ugly puddle of blood pooled beneath him, staining the muddy ground... and it wouldn't stop flowing, no matter how much Dell tried to staunch it with their hands and the bandages from their pack.

With no other options, and after a good while of standing around and panicking, they had decided to push forward on their trek through the jungle; staying in one location for too long was dangerous when exploring the depths of Kraw's jungle, after all. The planet was always hungry.

Thus, for the very first time, Dell took on the role of protector—using their own body as a human crutch to support Matt's injured, sagging weight. Every step was a struggle as they navigated through the rugged terrain, dragging their friend's limp body along, their boots slipping and stumbling on rocks and roots with each agonizing movement. But they did manage to claw their way out of the ravine, and soon enough they were moving in a ungainly, loping pattern through the jungle, headed in an entirely random direction, tripping about like a drunken caterpillar.

As the sun slowly dipped down and disappeared behind the trees, its absence casting a shadowy veil over the jungle, Dell's heart beat an unsteady tempo inside their chest as their anxiety mounted. The piercing shrieks and cries of unknown creatures and nocturnal predators echoed through the night, reminding them of their isolation... and Matt's vulnerability due to his injury.

They were practically sitting ducks, Matt especially. They needed to find shelter, and fast, before darkness consumed them completely.

And then, like a small glimmer of hope in the midst of their despair, Dell spotted a cave hidden among the foliage; a small crag nestled between what appeared to be two gigantic boulders, its shadowy entrance overladen with a curtain of leafy vines and creepers. But as they cautiously approached it, they couldn't shake off the feeling that they were being... watched. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig made their skin crawl with anticipation of yet another deadly encounter. But they had no other choice, really—they had to take their chances and seek refuge in this cave. There was no guarantee they'd find anything better.

Who or what once lived here? And why did they leave...? These questions plagued Dell's mind as they hesitantly crept forward, pulling Matt's drooping body inside the cave with some careful maneuvering of the man's dragging legs, only letting go of him once they were able to prop him up inside the little cave, his back resting against the wall.

Leaning back to survey their work, Dell saw that the sleeping man's face was a deathly shade of grey, like layered ash. They could practically feel the chill emanating from him, the bone-deep cold of the night seeming to make his limbs tremble uncontrollably, his body responding with reflexive jerks and shivers. Glancing around, Dell's mind raced, trying to come up with ways to warm him up.

Their hands shook as they peeled off Matt's damp shirt, revealing the flushed yet strangely icy state of his feverish skin. They bit their lip as they rummaged through their backpack, fingers numb and clumsy from the cold, frantic to find any extra clothes to wrap around his shivering body—which, admittedly, wasn't much. Just a pitiful raptorskin jacket that they'd brought along on a whim, thin and worn from constant use. But it would have to do, for now.

Muttering under their breath, Dell jerkily forced Matt's limp arms inside the jacket's sleeves, mentally running through a plan. First things first, they needed to start a fire before his condition worsened, that much was clear. They could already feel the leaden weight of responsibility settling on their shoulders as they scrambled to gather kindling.

As Dell ventured out from the suffocatingly narrow walls of the cave, their heart hammered inside their chest like a caged animal, their green eyes darting around frantically. They scanned the trees and brush around them for any signs of life, their senses on high alert. It felt like the unnerving stillness clung to them like a second skin, prickling every inch of their body, causing the hair on their arms to stand on end.

Swiftly gathering several bunches of twigs and dry-ish leaves up in their arms, Dell's hands shook with adrenaline as they practically bolted back to the cave, like a child diving back under their bed-covers to hide from a make-believe monster.

Back in the relative shadow of the cave, Dell's eyes flicked to Matt. He lay completely motionless on the ground, a mere dark silhouette propped up against the stone wall.

He also didn't appear to be breathing.

A surge of horror shot through Dell's body as they hastily knelt beside him, their knees hitting the ground with a soft crunch of dirt. The sour stench of death hung heavy in the air, making it difficult to breathe normally—it was hard to tell how much of the stink was caused by the animal's blood that still clung to their clothing or if it was something else, something far more tragic and close to home.

They reached out with quavering fingers to press them against Matt's ice-cold nose and pale lips, searching despairingly for any sign that he was still, indeed, among the living. When they finally felt the faint warmth of his breath and saw his chest rise and fall shakily, Dell let out a trembling sigh of relief, slumping a little in place.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Dell bent down to gather the scattered twigs they had stupidly dropped in their earlier panic. The stones that lined the cave floor dug into their raw, bleeding palms as they tugged at them, grunting with effort, arranging them into a loose fire pit.

After several minutes of trial and error, they finally managed to spark a flame, the comfortingly smoky scent of burning wood swiftly rising to fill the space inside the cave, wrapping Dell in its toasty embrace. The crackling tongues of flame cast eerie shadows across the cave's interior, emitting waves of warmth that chased away the chill in the air.

Basking beside the fire, Dell's dark skin prickled with sweat as the sweltering heat of the cave enveloped them, a soft sigh escaping their lips. They then noticed Matt, still shivering in the corner, and immediately sprang into action—pulling him closer to the fire by his underarms. That done, they huddled beside him, resting their curly-haired head against his shoulder.

As they stared out through the narrow opening of the cave, wide-eyed and alert, Dell could see the thick jungle looming just beyond the fire's soft glow. With every flicker of light from the flames, they couldn't help but imagine what lurked outside, observing the pair from under the cover of the shadowy jungle—wild animals or perhaps even poachers lurking in the void-like blackness.

They shivered, pressing tightly against Matt's side for comfort, careful not to jostle him too much for fear of agitating his injury. Their hand clutched the handle of Matt's survival knife with a grip so tight their knuckles turned nearly white. Their every sense was strung out and on high alert, from the cold bite of the air to the gritty feel of the weapon in their hand, fine tremors running through their fingers.

It was going to be a long night.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

The cave was enveloped in an inky darkness, save for the flickering flames of the dwindling fire. Dell bent closer to the guttering embers, tugging Matt's unconscious body along with them, but even that smidge of extra warmth couldn't thaw the chill that had seeped deep into their marrow.

They almost didn't think it was possible, but—the jungle around them felt practically icy, a far cry from the warmer climes Dell was accustomed to around New Abraxas. Despite being bundled up in their jacket, they couldn't stop shivering as the cold clawed at their skin. What's more, their feet screamed in agony from traversing through rough terrain all day, each inhale burning their lungs with frigid air; it was just plain unfair, really, how messed up this day had become.

"Even the fucking weather can't cut me a break," Dell muttered under their breath, keenly feeling every blister and muscle ache from the day's many misadventures, regretting ever setting out on this stupid expedition. But it was too late now, too late for second-guessing the decisions that had led them to this point. They'd just have to... buck up and shut up, just like their grandpa used to say.

Matt himself was still as a corpse, even huddled close to the crackling fire as he was. His body was wrapped tightly in every spare article of clothing they had brought on their expedition; Dell's clumsy attempts to keep him comfortable made manifest. And yet, after hours of rest, a flush of life seemed to finally cast over his face, bringing color and warmth with it.

The relentless gusts of wind whipped through the opening of the cave once more, stinging against every scrap of exposed skin on Dell's body like a flood of ice-water. The rough surface of the rocky ground beneath them, too, scraped against their bare arms and legs, leaving behind painful welts. Tears threatened to escape from their already burning eyes, their head still aching from their earlier fall, and their cheeks were gritty with dirt and sweat.

But Dell couldn't let themself cry, not now. Not when Matt's life was in danger. They forced back the urge, clenching their fists and gritting their teeth to stay strong.

Every fiber of their being was focused on protecting Matt, no matter what. They simply didn't have the energy to spare on feeling sorry for themself.

"Dell?" came a soft, croaky voice from somewhere nearby, drawing Dell from their thoughts. It was a familiar voice, one that had been their sole companion in this hostile and unforgiving place.

Without needing to hear another word, Dell crawled closer to Matt's prone form, propping themself up on their arms to see him better. They peered down at him, hot tears on the verge of spilling from their eyes at the sight of his ravaged side, which they had made another pitiful attempt at binding—the bandages staying blessedly pristine this time, holding all the blood inside. Dell figured that was where the blood needed to be, definitely.

“You're awake," they whispered. Their voice cracked a little as they studied his face, struggling to speak around the lump of emotion lodged in their throat.

In reply, Matt mumbled something unintelligible, his face creasing in pain as he attempted to sit up. Thankfully, he gave up quickly, flopping back down with a grunt.

Dell shuffled even closer, grasping onto his hand as if it were a lifeline, angling their head so their ear was nearer to their friend's lips. "What? What is it?"

There was a long pause as Matt sucked in a wheezy, pained breath.

“Dell...” he croaked out, his words nothing more than a weak rasp, speaking with all the gravity of a man on his deathbed. "...I don't think... we're gonna be having BBQ tonight..."

Dell blinked, stunned by the absurdity of it all. Then, a bitter laugh escaped their lips in a short, harsh bark, followed shortly by the tears that had been threatening to fall for hours. The two friends slumped together on the cold ground, Dell's form curved over Matt, their shoulders shaking with sobs and laughter.

"It wasn't that funny," Matt said eventually, smiling weakly from his position on the hard, damp floor of the cave.

"Shut up," Dell huffed on a laugh, leaning backwards, swiping at their eyes. The bone-deep chill that had gripped them only moments ago slowly dissipated, replaced by the comforting warmth of the fire they had carefully built.

Their gaze turned towards the dark entrance of the cave, turning serious as they shifted back into their original upright, seated position.

"Go back to sleep," they insisted, clutching the survival knife close to their chest. "I'll keep watch, or... or something."

“Oh yeah? I feel... so safe already...” Matt mumbled. His eyelids fluttered, half-closed, as he fought a losing battle against sleep.

Far off in the distance, beyond the safety of their makeshift shelter, lay the ravine where they had fought against the eyeless, brown-furred beast. Its lifeless body still rested at the bottom of the ravine, bathed in the wispy light of the moon, the ever-shifting shadows cast by the jungle canopy high above dancing over its form. The once formidable beast lay fractured on the sharp, jagged rocks in an inelegant sprawl, Matt's spear lodged in its heart.

As its blood seeped out and stained the ground, a clutch of curious mammalian scavengers, almost ferret-like in appearance, scurried closer to feast upon its remains. By morning, all that would remain of the once-terrifying brute would be a scattered pile of bones—completely stripped of flesh, marking its place in Kraw's vicious cycle of predation.

The scavengers feasted on the carcass, their tiny, needle-like teeth ripping through flesh and bone. But amidst the feeding frenzy, there was another presence, deftly creeping out from between the trees, soundless as a panther. A being that towered over the scavengers, its humanoid body covered in sleek scales and rippling with armored muscle.

It approached the dead creature with deliberate, loping steps, studying the primitive spear that had brought down such a formidable foe, its beady eyes glinting faintly in the dark, the sharp mandibles of its alien mouth clicking together in contemplation.

Trailing its long, claw-tipped fingers along the remnants of the beast, the figure emitted a strange, trilling purr. And then, as quickly as it appeared, it turned and vanished into the darkness—leaving behind only the faintest impressions of its footprints in the muddy, blood-soaked earth.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the dense leafage strewn about the jungle canopy, a golden glow blanketed the lush forest floor far below, illuminating fern-shaped shadows and glistening pools of collected rainwater. A host of birds erupted in a harmonious, twittering chorus, their diverse plumage and iridescent wingtips creating a musical, whisper-like susurrus as they flitted from tree-branch to tree-branch, rooting about for any insects crawling in the shade.

In the nearby swamp, frogs contributed to the wild orchestra with their croaks and beep-beep-beeps, their calls rippling across the mud-caked, twiggy ground. The gentle rustling of leaves and fronds added a soothing element to the tranquil morning scene—the sound of various small creatures digging through the leaf litter, ranging from itty-bitty furry rodents to slimy salamanders and creeping snakes.

The balmy morning's radiance filtered through the entrance of the cave, casting a yellow glow over Dell's sleeping form, which was slumped beside the still-smoking remnants of their slapdash fire from the night previous. Star-like pinpricks of sunshine rendered their dark eyelashes in coppery-gold, their nose scrunching up as the glare warmed their cheeks to an uncomfortable degree, a sleepy grumble of annoyance huffing past their lips.

They rolled onto their side with an agonizing slowness, their eyelids fluttering open. The mouth of the cave greeted them, the grassy, waterlogged jungle visible just beyond its facade of rugged stone, the loud, high-pitched droning of insects simmering in the air. The faint, fluttering breeze wrapped around them, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp soil and the sweet fragrance of wild orchids and other tropical blooms.

With a deep stretch and a satisfying, jaw-cracking yawn, Dell rose from their makeshift mattress of freshly-gathered leaves and pulpy branches, the loose bedding scratching over the cold rock of the cave floor beneath them. As they sat up, they turned to look at where Matt had been sleeping, but instead of finding his familiar form there, their eyes fell upon a scattered mess of clothing strewn across the ground.

Dread twisted inside Dell's gut as they realized Matt was simply... gone. Vanished, without a trace!

Dell's heart pounded inside their chest as they frantically stood and searched the narrow, rather small cave, their eyes scanning every nook and cranny. Cheerful sunlight streamed through the entrance, casting bold shadows on the rocky walls, but Matt was nowhere to be found. It was almost as if he'd vanished into thin fucking air!

"Matt!" Dell called out, frantic, their voice echoing across the surrounding woodland. Despite the light breeze, Dell's forehead was slick with fear-sweat as they pushed aside the thick drape of vines that hung across the cave's mouth, revealing a steep, descending slope leading down from the small grotto's opening.

With shaky steps, Dell emerged from the relative safety of the cave and onto the exposed hill, the wind ruffling through their hair, cooling their clammy skin. Mosquitoes swarmed around their face as they squinted against the harsh sun that had managed to break through the canopy, lifting a hand to shield their eyes as they peered out over the thick jungle below.

There was still no sign of Matt. No sign of the man Dell called brother. They could feel their breathing speeding up as fear and worry consumed them, nearly on the verge of hyperventilating.

Where was he? Did he get dragged off by wild animals and Dell was too sacked out to hear it? Or maybe he woke up from a fever and wandered off into the unknown, delirious and defenseless? Fearful thoughts raced through Dell's mind at a million miles a minute, but there were no clear answers readily apparent.

"Oh, hey, you're finally awake," a voice called from behind, and straight away Dell's head snapped around—almost giving themself whiplash in the process, their neck actually twinging a little from the sudden, jerky motion.

Behind them was Matt, a toothy grin across his face. He stood barefooted, a playful spark in his eyes as he gripped a small, clearly dead squirrel-like creature in his left hand, its fur dappled with a mixture of browns and greys and its black-tipped tail hanging limp.

But Dell couldn't focus on the squirrel-thingy because anger and frustration broiled within them, almost overshadowing the immense relief they felt. How could Matt just disappear without a word, leaving them worried sick?

Clenching their teeth, Dell's hands balled up into fists at their sides as they fought to contain their emotions. "Where... did you go?" they asked with forced calmness, trying soooo hard to hide their frustration.

Matt, picking up on their sour mood, shuffled his feet a bit sheepishly, his eyes darting between Dell's flaring nostrils and the aggravated set of their jaw. As he studied their expression, though, he picked up on other, less fiery emotions. Dell's green eyes were red and swollen, their lips trembling.

Without them even having to say a word, he quickly understood the cause of their distraught state: him.

He'd fucked up.

Matt exhaled a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping and his hand flying to his face in exasperation—directed at himself. His eyes squeezed shut, guilt etched into his features as he muttered a curse under his breath. "Shit. Dell, I'm so sorry. It didn't even cross my mind that you might..."

In contrast, Dell's body seemed to relax as they released all of the tension they had been holding.

They sank very suddenly to the ground, their knees squelching against the wet, marshy soil, their pant legs hopelessly sodden—no different than usual, then. They wrapped their arms tightly around their legs, burying their face between their knees, trying to calm down.

Despite not being able to see him, they could still feel Matt's presence as he slowly approached them, the dead squirrel-thing completely forgotten in his hand.

Kneeling beside Dell, Matt gently placed a hand on their arm. It was a warm, comfortingly familiar weight, just like always.

"Hey," he spoke softly, lowering his head so he could glimpse Dell's face between their knees. "I screwed up. I should've known better than to leave you alone in that cave, especially after what happened last night. I didn't think things through. I'm... I'm really sorry, Dell. I hope you can forgive me."

Dell stayed quiet, not uttering a single word. But as Matt's hand rested on their shoulder, they felt the tension slowly but surely melt away, easing from their body.

After a few moments, Dell lifted their head and met Matt's gaze. Tears pooled in their eyes as they sniffled softly.

"I'm just... so relieved you're okay," they choked out, pulling him into a tight side-hug. But as they felt his body against theirs, Dell suddenly froze and pulled back with a gasp. "Wait! What happened to the gigantic freaking hole in your side?!"

They pulled back, looking down at Matt's shirt... which was now a completely different, clean shirt.

It was also free of bandages. And blood.

Baffled and concerned by this development, Dell looked up at Matt's face, their eyes widening. "What happened? Why'd you take the bandages off?"

Matt sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I don't know how to explain it... but it's healed," he offered, sounding quite unsure himself.

Dell frowned in disbelief and reached out to ruck up Matt's shirt—only to openly stare at the uninjured, spotless brown skin just above his hip. The very same skin that had been raw and bloody just a few hours ago.

Their jaw dropped.

"What the hell, dude..." Dell muttered, gently prodding at the healed skin with a finger, to which Matt quickly swatted their hand away. The deep gashes from last night were gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin. They gave Matt an uncomprehending look, one eyebrow arching in keen suspicion. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I swear, I didn't do anything," insisted Matt, rubbing at the back of his head in bewilderment. "I remember the pain, the blood... and the cold. But this morning, everything was... all better. Like new," he chuckled, still amazed at the sudden change. "I mean, I almost feel better than I did before that thing tried to gut me."

Dell's hands gripped tightly onto Matt's shirt, their knuckles turning white as they shook their head in disbelief.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” they argued firmly.

Matt let out a heavy sigh, his eyes scanning Dell's face. “I know it sounds crazy, Dell. But it's true! I'd wondered if you had done something, maybe.”

“I may be okay at first aid, Matt, but I can't perform miracles," Dell scoffed at the idea, letting go of Matt's shirt and allowing it to fall back into place. “I mean, I'm glad you're okay, obviously. But goddamn… this is downright bizarre,” they muttered. "As if I would be lucky enough to have that kind of ability..."

They went silent for a beat, until suddenly, Dell's eyes narrowed and they looked up at Matt with intense focus. “Wait, where did you disappear to before I woke up this morning, anyway?” they asked, jutting their chin towards the dense cluster of trees just beyond the cave entrance.

Unexpectedly, Matt grinned.

"This," he held up the limp body of the squirrel-like creature he had trapped in the early morning hours. It dangled from in his grip, its brownish-grey fur appearing matted and mangy-looking, its eyes half-open and milky-blue, but he acted as if it was a prized trophy. "I noticed some of our rations were gone, so... we'll have BBQ for breakfast," he added, shooting them a cheeky wink, his words a proud declaration.

Dell boggled at the creature in disbelief before their eyes flitted back to their friend's face, which seemed to be glowing with excitement.

Despite everything they had been through, or perhaps because of it, this strange situation almost seemed... normal now.

"Sounds... good," Dell admitted, standing up and brushing dirt off their knees. It was a futile effort, considering the sheer amount of grime Kraw tended to dish out, but it was the principle of the matter.

Working together, the pair regathered dry twigs and leaves from the hilly, swampy ground surrounding their little cave.

With steady hands, Matt retrieved his survival knife and expertly made two precise cuts along the hind legs of the squirrel-creature. Using a harsh, quick pulling motion, he peeled the skin off as if removing a glove, tugging it away from the animal's hind legs to its shoulders. Cutting off the head with a swift sawing motion, he chucked it outside the mouth of the cave and carefully cleaned out the entrails, only keeping the parts that looked edible; the dark brown liver and glistening heart.

He painstakingly cut strips of thin, stringy meat off the rest, rinsing each piece with water from his canteen.

Meanwhile, after struggling to start a fire with just two sticks (the only dry ones they could muster) and some dried moss gathered from the trunks of nearby trees, Dell finally coaxed flames back to life in their makeshift fire pit. As the crackling burning grew in strength, Matt roasted the strips of meat over it using his knife as Dell looked on, both of their stomachs rumbling.

The meat was greasy, nearly impossible to chew, and tasted slightly musky. The liver was bitter; the heart a tough, hard bit of muscle. It certainly wasn't a gourmet meal by any means, but after a while of surviving on meager rations... well, it felt like a feast fit for kings.

Spirits high and muscles warmed from a hearty breakfast, they swiftly broke camp, gathering up their packs and belongings. That finished, they set off once again in their trek, delving deeper into the uncharted wilderness. With every step, they moved more cautiously than before—Matt creeping ahead of Dell, knife in hand, his ears pricked for any forewarning of danger amidst the heavy foliage.

As always, the sweltering heat and suffocating humidity only added to their discomfort, but they pressed on, determined to reach their destination despite the hazards that surely lurked ahead. Every whisper of leaves or snap of a branch underfoot had them on edge, jumping at shadows and stopping frequently to simply listen, attuned to the sounds of the jungle.

They didn't talk about Matt's bizarrely fast healing. Nor did they discuss the moment the creature had attacked them, or the desperate plunge over the cliff that nearly killed them both. They only looked forward, moving towards the ruins that would—Dell hoped—change their fate.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Their long, grueling march continued as they plunged deeper into the emerald-green heart of Kraw, the humidity in the atmosphere cloyingly sweet and heavy on their lungs. Dell's map became their only guide through the thick, wet rainforest, its wispy parchment paper slightly creased and smeared with dirt, but thankfully the markings were still clear enough to discern.

Enormous, creeping vines spiraled like the coils of giant serpents around tree trunks that sprawled impossibly high, their boughs stretching out as if to touch the skies, gnarled shoots and budding leaves striving to escape from the verdant, branch-locked prison created by their own foliage. The canopy above swallowed them whole, shielding them from the sun's rays and casting a dim, dappled light that played upon their fatigued, haggard countenances, the speckles of greenish shade flickering with every brush of the breeze.

Every so often, a splash of color bloomed amidst the endless curtain of green—a flower with blooming, lush petals as vibrant as dribbled paint, or a bird with plumage so brilliant it glistened under the scattered beams of sunlight. Once, Dell even caught sight of a scarlet macaw perched atop a branch above them, its cherry-red feathers a stark contrast against the verdant leaves.

They nudged Matt gently, pointing it out with a dirt-smudged finger, their silent, trudging slog momentarily broken by a shared admiration for the handsome creature. But they couldn't enjoy such simple things forever, and it wasn't long before they were picking up the trail again, their feet aching with blisters, the heat of the day beating down over their bent heads with all the relentlessness of an impassioned preacher delivering a Sunday sermon.

Walking ahead of Dell, Matt brandished his machete like an artist might wield a paintbrush, grunting quietly from exertion as he sliced through the never-ending undergrowth with fierce strokes. Stalks of bamboo and snarling thicket fell away like crumpled tissue paper, each cut revealing a straggly canvas of new, unplumbed forest before them.

Salty, prickling sweat poured from his brow, soaking into the flimsy fabric of the shirt hanging off his muscled frame and stinging at his eyes, but he forced himself to push forward anyway. And though his arm throbbed from hours of steadily hacking at stubborn vegetation, Matt certainly wouldn't admit it. The simple brutality of the sharp, repetitive motion helped to clear his mind, anyway.

He was... acutely aware that their progress the day before had been slowed by Dell needing to tend to him. In fact, the mere thought of all that had transpired before still itched at him, filled him with guilt.

Matt refused to be a further hindrance, the force of his swings and the unwavering momentum of his stride echoing his obstinacy. His mind was made up, and the man was now more than ever bound and determined to make up for lost time.

Behind him, Dell plodded along doggedly under the weight of their backpack. Their shoulders sagged under its ungainly bulk, the once sturdy straps now all twisted and crimped into hard-ridged ribbons, digging painfully into the skin of their armpits. Their boots, too, squelched in the sticky mud, sinking in as the waterlogged, soupy dirt sucked at them, struggling to break free with every forward motion. Insect bites peppered their exposed skin like a constellation of angry red stars against a sky of dark brown flesh, the small red welts growing especially itchy and unpleasant when scratched.

Often they would cross streams, swollen from recent rains. Using fallen logs or stones worn smooth by time and the ceaseless flow of rushing water, they clambered over them with cautious steps, taking great care not to slip and fall in—a twisted ankle would certainly not be in the books for them today!

And all the while, the scent of damp, rich earth and flourishing plant life suffused their lungs, cold and bright and pitter-pattering with every droplet of dew; unseen animals stirring restlessly in dark, leafy recesses, retreating at the sight of two strange, bipedal creatures tromping across their home turf.

After hours of slowly and silently maneuvering through the tangled understory of the jungle, Dell and Matt abruptly froze as a blood-curdling scream pierced through the gentle thrum of birdsong and droning insects that had overlaid their surroundings thus far.

Just like that, everything went quiet.

The slightest rustle of leaves and twigs underfoot amplified in the sudden hush that followed. It heightened the sense of uncertainty simmering around them; their every muscle rigid, primed to leap into action or make a hasty escape.

Breaking their stillness first, Dell whipped their head around to look at Matt, their green eyes wide with alarm. Their mouth opened as if to speak, but Matt's hand shot up in a stern gesture, his features going serious as he made a sharp, quick slicing motion in the air with his hand, signaling for them to stay silent.

Their tension was palpable as they both held their breath, straining to listen for any further sound or movement. Despite the constant chorus of strange and alarming noises that a jungle with Kraw's staggering plethora of fauna could produce on a daily basis, the scream had stood out like a beacon of distress—but now all was deathly silent, only the echo of the scream burning in their minds.

Whatever had made that bone-chilling noise, though, it was nearby. Somewhere to the east, concealed by the gnarled, bristling foliage and the deep, slinking shadows cast by the trees.

But what shook them to their core was the jarring contrast of what came after—voices. Harsh and accompanied by noisy, boisterous laughter and the crunch of boots over leaves, cutting through the stillness like Matt's machete through foliage. Only snatches of words could be heard, bouncing off the colossal tree trunks encircling them on all sides, making it near impossible to discern exactly where they were coming from.

Most alarming of all, while the voices were slightly muffled by distance and difficult to place, they were getting louder. Veering in their direction, if only by chance.

Panicked, Dell looked to Matt. Matt, in turn, looked at Dell.

As the crackling of approaching footfalls seemed to grow in intensity, the pair immediately dropped to the ground and crawled on their stomachs towards a thick cluster of fern-like bushes. There they huddled close, scarcely daring to breathe as they blended into the shaded greenery much like chameleons, hoping to evade any detection.

Limbs bunched up under their stomach like a crouching cat, Dell's body went stiff as they hid among the fronds of the ferns, peering out through the gaps in the leaves. Their brows furrowed with a mix of annoyance at the situation and worry, their eyes darting towards Matt with a searching look.

"Matty... who are these guys?" they breathed out.

Their voice was fraught with uncertainty, mirroring Matt's own feelings.

Matt shook his head, his gaze narrowing.

"I've got no clue," he replied in a hushed tone, perplexed by the sudden appearance of people in this... uncharted territory. Or at least, uncharted by the University of Abraxas...

They didn't sound like licensed hunters, in any case... much of Matt's own training had advised him to be stealthy and quiet when wandering between the trees, lest he attract the attention of a much larger, less civil hunter. These guys were anything but quiet.

"Poachers, maybe," he hazarded a guess, his sharp eyes scanning the trees ahead of them.

There wasn't a lot visible, but now that he was looking for it, he could just barely catch glimpses of a flickering, yellow-orange glow through the trees, accompanied by the sound of crackling flames and the faintest smell of burning wood. Shadowy figures were silhouetted by the fire, the glint of metal and snatches of bare skin reflecting in the dancing light as they moved about inside the clearing.

As a breeze rustled around them, ruffling at his hair and the clustered ferns they were hiding in, Matt realized that the wind had been blowing the smoke away from them.

Well, that explained why he hadn't noticed anything off before. But this group could be either friend or foe, Matt reasoned to himself. They had to consider every possibility. Perhaps they were members of New Abraxas sent on an expedition, as unlikely as that was.

Or poachers, as he had initially assumed.

Tightening his hold around his machete's hilt, Matt made a flat-handed gesture with his palm towards the ground, motioning for Dell to stay put while he assessed the situation. But before he could fully straighten his spine to peer out, Dell tugged firmly at his hand and yoinked him back down into the cushiony brush with a soft, muffled "oof!"

"What in the goddamn do you think you're doing? You are so not thinking of talking to them alone," they whispered urgently, adopting a chiding tone. "Did you forget what happened yesterday? You almost died, dude."

Matt scowled at them, brushing his dark locks out of his face, just so they could appreciate the full severity of his glare.

"We can't stay here. They'll have the upper hand if they attack us first. I'm gonna go see what's up," he bit back, gesturing frantically towards the flickering firelight, the shifting, man-shaped shadows that seemed positively rife with brewing danger in his eyes.

"I'm not letting you go out there," Dell hissed stubbornly, refusing to let go of his hand, their knuckles turning a lighter shade of brown from the tightness of their grip. "And besides, how do you know they're going to attack us? That's right; you don't. So let's not do anything crazy."

Matt sighed.

"Look, Dell... all I'm saying is we have to be ready for anything," he pointed out in a barely audible murmur, his eyes beseeching theirs for understanding. "If they're poachers, that means there's gonna be trouble. They won't be out here for researching wildlife or collecting plant samples or whatever it is Scamander does. They're here for profit, and chances are they'll kill us for whatever's in our pockets. Hell, maybe even for fun! And you, you're not exactly cut out for—"

Dell interrupted him with a scowl, bristling. "What, are you saying I'm a burden?"

Growling under his breath, Matt dragged a hand across his face, blunt fingers dragging over his cheeks. He glancing at the distant flames, then back at Dell, mouth opening as if to say something—

“And just what do we have here?” A rough voice called out from above, cutting through their heated conversation like a knife through butter.

The suddenness of it all caught them both by surprise, causing the pair to startle. With almost comical timing, they twisted their necks upwards to stare, wide-eyed, at the source.

A rugged, pale-skinned man with a thick, brush-like black beard sneered down at them, his piercing eyes glinting in suspicion. He gripped a heavy-duty carbine rifle tightly in hand, split knuckles twitching around the grip. The muzzle was pointed directly at them, his finger heavy on the trigger. The threat the hovering digit posed was nearly palpable, washing over them like a physical wave of danger.

Dell went pale, their skin rendered grey as ash.

In a similar state, Matt's heart felt as if it had leapt into his throat at the sight of the armed man shadowing over them—and flaunting such godawful muzzle discipline, too, Jesus.

He instinctively shifted to move in front of Dell, the bushes rustling around him as he climbed to his feet, using his body as a shield as he slowly raised his hands in surrender. They were about even in height, though Matt had to look down, just a little, to meet the man's eyes. Which the guy did not seem to appreciate, judging by the way his features shifted into an even more dour look, pinched and mean.

"Hey, hey—easy there, friend," said Matt, his mouth twisting in a forced smile as he chuckled nervously, keeping his voice calm and jovial despite the anxiety pounding in his chest. "We don't want any trouble. Just passing by, is all."

His eyes darted around, scanning for any other threats, but it seemed like the man was... alone. Likely a camp scout or something, investigating a weird noise while his friends caroused by the fire.

Great, thought Matt. Not only does he have a height complex, he's the outsider with his buddies.

The man—who Matt henceforth decided to mentally christen "Napoleon"—let out a gruff laugh. His weathered face creased into a sly grin, revealing yellowed teeth. "Well that's too bad, 'cause you found it. What're a couple of kids like you doing all the way out here in the jungle, anyway?"

Glancing back at Dell, Matt's thoughts spun in circles as he tried to come up with a convincing story. Dell was always the better liar, considering they had an annoying tendency to worm their way into troublesome situations—and right back out of them, usually.

But all that seemed to have gone by the wayside, because right now they just stared back at him, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

Thanks a lot, Dell.

"We're, uh..." Matt's eyes roved across the trees around them, his tongue stumbling over his words, before a bolt of inspiration struck. "We're nature photographers. Yeah. Just trying to get some good shots of the wildlife out here..."

Napoleon narrowed his eyes skeptically. Leaning in a tad closer to see them better amidst the dense foliage, his head tilted slowly to the side. Just behind Matt, Dell fidgeted in an unhelpfully shady manner, glancing around as if looking for an escape route.

"Photographers, huh? Funny, doesn't seem like you have any fancy cameras on ya," Napoleon grumbled, squinting as his eyes scanned Matt from head to foot, clearly taking his measure. "'Sides, this place ain't exactly... hospitable. You don't have an escort from the University or nothing?"

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the motion filled with menace. His rifle was still aimed squarely at Matt's chest, the muzzle inches away from brushing against his sternum.

Thinking fast, Matt cautiously moved his free hand to pat at the side of his backpack, the other still grasping onto his machete—its hilt clenched tightly in his sweaty fist, the silvery glint of the blade hidden just under the brush that rose to about waist-height. "Oh, they're in here, don't worry. And we're managing ourselves juuuust fine. But listen, my guy, we don't want any, uh, confrontation here. We'll just be on our way and leave you to do... whatever it is you're doing out here."

The poacher—because yeah, Matt had just known that was the sort of person they were dealing with—let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"Nice try, kid, but you're not going anywhere. Now both of you, hands up and drop those bags," he ordered harshly, gesturing with his rifle. "Anything valuable goes to me. Now."

Oh, well. Negotiations over, it seemed.

Swallowing hard under Napoleon's watchful eye, Matt slooooowly unslung his backpack from his shoulder and dropped it onto the ground with a weighted ker-thunk, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to figure out their next move, his hands still held at his sides.

If they made a break for it, this guy could easily gun them down. But complying would leave them stranded and without supplies, which was essentially a death sentence out here... or the man would just shoot them dead on the spot after. Basically, all of their options sucked.

Of course, he could always just...

No. Matt's throat constricted, his fingers slipping around the hilt of his machete, the flat of his blade pressing tightly against his leg. Matt had never really harmed another human being before, though he'd been taught how to by some of Leliana's hunters. But it was a whole other ballgame when faced with the decision in real life, and not just in some hypothetical scenario or in the sandy training pit.

He couldn't just kill this guy... could he?

The rifle glinted coldly in the sunlight filtering through the trees. Grimacing, Matt imagined the bullet tearing through his flesh, his blood spilling over the fallen leaves littered across the forest floor. Even worse, he imagined what might happen if Dell got hurt in the aftermath, while he wasn't there to protect them.

Beside him, Dell had gone very still, their eyes darting back and forth between Matt and the poacher, their hands frozen on the straps of their backpack, shaking—a costly mistake, because Napoleon's steely glare immediately left Matt and snapped to them, the muzzle of his rifle swinging in their direction.

Matt's eyes got real big, glued to the gun.

"I said drop it!" the poacher barked with a sudden ferocity that sent spittle flying from his lips, the veins lining his neck bulging, causing Dell to flinch backwards in terror.

Before either of them could react, Matt tightened his grip on his machete and swung the glinting, silvery blade at the man's head. He brought the heavy weapon down with all his might, the sharp edge cleaving through Napoleon's skull with a sickening, wet crunch—the skin and bone covering the crown of his head splitting open like a piece of sliced pomegranate, sending blood and brain matter flying.

Pitching backwards a staggering, ungainly step, the man's body crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap, dead as a door-nail.

His eyes remained open, staring blankly into oblivion as blood pooled around him, seeping into the leaves.

In the heart-stopping seconds that passed as Napoleon toppled over—which seemed to take an eternity to Matt, who merely stood there, gawking at the blade jutting out from the man's head as if in a dazed stupor—the dead man's finger involuntarily squeezed the trigger of his gun, the shot ringing out but missing its target harmlessly.

The earsplitting CRACK of the gunshot echoed among the surrounding trees, startling birds from their perches and prompting them to scatter in a frantic flurry of feathers. Still off-kilter from what he'd done, Matt jerked out of his disoriented state as he heard the pounding of footsteps closing in, shouts of alarm ringing out—Dell looking at him as if stricken, the horror painted vividly on their face.

Stooping down, Matt swiftly yanked his machete out of the dead man's skull with a slick, grating sound, its blade slippery with fresh blood. He snatched up the discarded gun with his other hand, not even thinking anymore. All he knew was that they needed to—

"Run!" he snapped at Dell, jerking them into motion by yanking at the back of their jacket.

They both took off in a full sprint through the trees, breaking branches and crashing through whatever underbrush barred the way. Their gasping breaths intermingled as they bolted blindly into the shaded greenery, boots pounding against the ground as they raced to escape their pursuers.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

The drumming of many booted feet grew louder at their backs, signaling that their pursuers were gaining ground, and fast. Dell's legs burned as they pushed themself to run faster, their backpack thudding wildly against their spine, the added weight slowing them down even more. Sweat dripped down their forehead, burning as it leaked into their eyes and clouded their vision.

"What are we gonna do?!" they panted, barely able to speak in between lurching steps, floundering as they tried to catch their breath.

"We have to keep moving," Matt replied through gritted teeth. A large tree trunk loomed ahead and he swerved deftly to dodge around it, boots skidding over the wet leaves, narrowly avoiding a collision. "We'll just—find a moment to strike back!"

"Strike back?!" yelped Dell, glaring at Matt in sheer disbelief, their mind spinning as they recalled the way he'd cracked that one guy's skull open like a fucking coconut, just moments before. "What the hell do you mean, strike ba—"

A deafeningly sharp CRACK of gunfire erupted in the air and drowned out Dell's words, the thundering sound echoing all throughout the jungle. Bullets whizzed past them, narrowly missing their heads and sending haphazard clods of dirt spraying high into the air, jagged splinters shooting off the trunks of the trees they juddered past, the needle-like chips of bark cutting at their faces and arms. The pungent, metallic stench of gunpowder lingered in their nostrils as they sprinted desperately, the fear and adrenaline singing inside their veins fueling their frantic pace.

Each step felt like the seconds counting down on an invisible clock as they ran for their lives. Once again, they looked to be in a desperate fight against an uncomfortably real risk of death. And while Dell was somewhat glad they weren't being chased by a wild animal intent on mauling and eating them, possibly whilst still alive, they didn't much relish the idea of getting shot, either!

Even worse than that all-encompassing feeling of doom, though, was that Dell could feel their pumping legs slowing down almost subconsciously—their body trying to protect itself from the inevitable exhaustion that was certain to set in within moments. Unfortunately, their biology just didn't seem to understand that slowing down would lead to something far worse than just a little unexpected nappy-nap.

Matt's senses were on high alert as he felt Dell's struggle to keep pace, his eyes sliding over to glance at them. Stumbling a little, his hand lashed out and firmly grasped theirs, his grip tightening, locking their fingers in a secure hold. Then, he quickly pulled them along, practically dragging them, pushing through the heavy thicket ahead.

"Hurry!" he yelled, glancing back at them, his gaze filled with concern. "Come on, Dell, we have to keep moving!"

But Dell could barely keep up, their lungs screaming for air, a stitch digging like the sharpened blade of a knife into their side as they tripped over exposed roots and hidden rocks beneath the blanket of fallen leaves. They couldn't even muster up the wherewithal to respond to his ridiculous and fragrantly obvious encouragements, their vision blurred, their entire focus on trying to match Matt's breakneck speed.

For—well, not the first time, but definitely the first time in a long time, Dell dearly regretted that they weren't more... athletic.

The difference between their speed and Matt's was almost comical; here they were, pumping their arms and legs and barely achieving enough momentum to reach a light jogging pace, feeling like all of their fucking internal organs were dying and shriveling up on the inside, and then there was Matt—his booted feet tramping over the ground with all the grace of a bounding deer, deftly avoiding anything that might trip him up without even breaking too much of a sweat.

It was simply fucking unfair, was what it was.

A pang of fear spiked through Dell's heart as gunfire peppered over the jungle again, the sound of bullets zipping past them once more. One narrowly missed their leg, striking a rock beside their calf and sending a tiny, yet no less sharp shard of rock scything across their thigh, causing them to yelp and stagger in their steps.

Blood trickled down Dell's leg, hot and sticky, the cut burning. Their eyes darted around with a frantic, quivering energy, searching for any possible cover.

That's when they spotted a forked tree up ahead to their left, its branches protruding in opposite directions to form a loose 'v,' not unlike the arms of a wishbone. Nestled in the muddied, grassy ground beside it was what appeared to be the bumpy, time-loosened remnants of a stone pathway, a bristling, briary tangle of undergrowth curving over it.

In short, it would be the perfect cover until the poachers caught up with them.

"That way!" Dell shouted, pointing in the direction of the stone path that seemed more sheltered, and perhaps easier to run over if the old cobbles continued for long. But just as they started to veer towards it, Matt squeezed their hand tighter and forcibly yanked them in the opposite direction, very nearly dislodging their arm from its socket.

Confused and slightly panicked, Dell followed his lead as he dragged them towards the right, sling-shotting after him like a freaking yo-yo on a string. The ground was overgrown with thick foliage and tangled vines, just like everywhere else, making it absolutely grueling to plunge through, the vegetation battering against them every step of the way.

"Duck!" Matt whispered sharply, and although they were profoundly flummoxed by such a suggestion, Dell followed his command.

Abruptly, the ground beneath their feet inexplicably disappeared as they found themselves tumbling down a very slight hillside, a layer of scattered rain-slick leaves sliding under them as they rolled along, muffling all sound. Sharp branches and sticks scratched at their skin, but the adrenaline rush did wonders, numbing any pain.

They came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the slight incline, flattening the leaves beneath their weight, their limbs jostling against Matt's as they settled inside a shallow ditch. Now hidden by a veil-like thicket of prickly thorned branches and what appeared to be green berries, Dell glanced up, covering their mouth to stifle any gasping pants that struggled to burst free from their lips.

Turning his head to glance at Dell, Matt pressed a finger to his lips, the serious look on his face conveying the need for silence. Dell nodded a little, eyes wide and leaves scattered in their hair, the sound of their thudding heart seeming nearly deafening to their own ears.

Concealed in the shadows of the dense brush, the duo hunched down, quietly trying to catch their breath and listen for any signs of the poachers at the same time...

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

The sound of leaves crunching underfoot grew louder and closer, until the poachers were standing right in front of Dell and Matt, who were still crouched, motionless, inside the bramble-covered ditch. The faint lighting obscured their faces, but they could still see the telltale shape of muddy boots standing exactly where they had been moments ago, trampling through the fallen foliage.

Rough voices reverberated through the trees, sharp with anger.

"Where'd they go?" demanded a gruff, feminine voice, laced with irritation and impatience.

"They probably went that-a-way," a man replied in a heavy accent that much resembled Dell's own twangy way of speaking. The hidden pair watched as the pointed toes of his worn leather boots turned in the same direction Dell had wanted to flee earlier, taking one half-step in that direction.

After a few tense moments of bickering, two members of the band broke off in that direction, their footfalls crackling noisily over the leaf litter. The remaining men remained rooted in place, their combat boots sinking a little into the mud-caked ground, creating two distinct sets of prints.

Perspiration beaded on Matt's forehead as he gripped his blood-streaked machete tighter, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. With the men turned towards him and Dell, they weren't very vulnerable—they'd see him coming from a mile away. But, if he could sneak through the thicket and come up behind them...

Well, it was the perfect setup for a quiet take-down. He just had to make it happen.

The problem was making sure Dell stayed behind and didn't try to come to his rescue if anything happened to him.

"I'll be back soon," Matt breathed softly to Dell, slowly rising up onto his elbows with his palms flat to the ground. His voice was low, his tone clipped, as he passed the heavy rifle over to them. "Stay here. I mean it, Dell."

Cautiously, he began to crawl deeper into the ditch, inching along until he was entirely hidden in the shadow of the thick foliage.

Dell watched him go, anxiety coursing through them as Matt moved further and further away from them and closer to their adversaries. Every now and then, they could hear twigs snapping under his weight, but he would pause and listen for any signs of alarm before resuming his sporadic, animal-like movements, using the rustling leaves and whistling wind as cover.

Left alone, Dell clutched onto the gun Matt had taken from the black-bearded man like a freaking lifeline, watching the poacher's boots with a sort of focused, yet woozy attention—their thoughts flying everywhere at once while their eyes continued facing forward.

The weight of the weapon was all too familiar in their hands, heavy and cold.

It had been years since Dell had held a gun, let alone fired one. They'd been in the Crossroads for so long, never picked up another one.

But now, with their lives at stake...

Dell's fingers shook as they tightly grasped the carbine rifle's grip, their slim digits fitting awkwardly into grooves made for a hand much larger than theirs. But despite their trepidation, they knew they couldn't let Matt go into this alone, no matter what it took, even if it meant risking their own life. That was just how friendships worked, in Dell's humble opinion.

Besides, they weren't helpless. Matt just thought so because Dell was a normal person from a normal Earth with normal things going on. They hadn't been raised in the Crossroads, hadn't been born in some... some whackadoodle science-fiction-made-real land like Matt had.

Sure, a lot of things caught Dell off-guard, but they could handle this, if nothing else. This was familiar. This was shooting tin cans off a pasture's fence-posts with their friend Joseph. This was...

The goddamn scariest thing Dell had ever done in their life.

With their head ducked low beneath the oppressive shade of the thicket, Dell's fingers sank into at the damp earth as they painfully inched forward, pawing at the ground to drag themself forward, following Matt's lead through the muck and filth of the worn ditch.

Every nerve in their body was strung out like a bowstring poised to snap, their heart wildly thudding like a drum inside their chest, their head twisting around constantly to scan behind them for any sign of detection. Each movement felt like walking on thin, cracked ice in the dead of winter, praying to remain invisible to the men hunting them down.

Coming to a halt beside a tree with a split trunk at the edge of the ditch, Dell paused to steady themselves, taking a moment to slow their breathing. They rolled their shoulders, loosening the tense muscles in their arms, and then adjusted the rifle in their grip as they shook out and swiveled their wrists to ensure they weren't all locked up.

Brows furrowed in concentration, they inhaled deeply through their nose, letting the breath go with a soft puff of air. Then, they carefully grabbed the tree, slowly rising up onto their knees, then climbing to their feet—beginning to scale the trunk with precise movements, using the thick lower branches for footholds.

Their every muscle was stiff as they carefully climbed the tree's short trunk, their ears pricked for any movement from their pursuers, acutely aware of any stray noise that might give them away.

All the while, Dell didn't dare glance in the direction of the men, afraid that they might sense eyes upon them.

Finally, after struggling up the tree trunk for several minutes and earning at least six new stinging splinters in the meat of their palms, Dell reached the junction where the tree's trunk split into two halves unscathed. It was there that they nestled in, melding like a shadow among the dark green leaves, head pounding with terror and their heart lodged uncomfortably inside their throat.

From this elevated vantage point, their vision stretched out before them, taking in the lush vegetation sprawling out on all sides—the pair of poachers plainly visible in the evening gloom in spite of their dark, camouflage-patterned clothing, milling about further along the thicket, not even fifteen feet away.

With careful precision, moving slowly to avoid rustling the leaves too much, Dell propped their rifle up in the sturdy fork of the split tree's trunk. They cradled the stock against their shoulder and peered down the iron sights, lining them up with the head of one of the men below, biting their lip as they positioned it juuuuust so.

Swallowing hard, Dell sucked in a sharp breath between their teeth to steady their nerves, exhaling slowly as they focused all of their attention on the weapon in their hands, the wind whispering through the branches concealing them from view, and their target.

A lock of hair fell over their face and they quickly brushed it aside with a swipe of their hand. Their green eyes narrowed, squinting in intense concentration as they adjusted their aim yet again, evaluating every movement and potential obstacle that might hinder their shot.

They couldn't fuck this up. They just couldn't.

The leaves continued to sway delicately in the breeze, intermittently obscuring their view for the briefest of moments before settling back into place, stirring only faintly. But Dell remained utterly absorbed in their task. Hunching their shoulders, they leaned forward—blocking out any distractions or movements around them, one finger lightly hovering on the trigger.

With a steady hand, they gently applied pressure to the trigger.

CRACK!

The shot rang out like a popping, sharp thunderclap, sending a deafening echo through the quiet jungle and piercing its mark with deadly precision. The force of the recoil slammed against Dell's shoulder, but they barely felt it over the rush of adrenaline coursing through their veins, their eyes widening in shock.

"Sweet God," they whispered as they watched, blinking rapidly, as the man crashed to the ground where he stood, hitting the dirt with a sickening thud.

Blood pooled thickly around him.

His friend shouted something in alarm, glancing around wildly, his own gun waving around in the air—the muzzle swinging this way and that as he tried to pinpoint where the shot had come from.

Dell's grasp on the carbine tightened, their nerves causing their hands to tremble as they re-positioned themselves for their next, now-moving target—focusing intently as they fiddled with the rifle, trying to line up another shot. But just as they were about to take aim, a sharp, silvery glint of movement caught their eye, drawing their attention to—

Matt, clutching his machete as he stealthily stepped out from the tangled brush and foliage with all the grace of a creeping tiger, stalking towards the unsuspecting man's back on silent feet.

The man never even stood a chance. Matt's strike was lightning-quick, catching the guy completely off his guard as he used the blunt end of his machete as a makeshift bludgeon, jamming it against the back of the man's skull with a thwack that echoed between the trees.

He promptly crumpled to the forest floor like a puppet with his strings cut.

After making sure that the man was unconscious, Matt looked up and saw Dell perched in the nearby forked tree, only partially hidden by the curtain of leaves. He didn't seem pleased, a slight scowl brewing on his face like the first rumblings of a thunderstorm, but he signaled for Dell to come down anyway.

With one hand gripping the carbine rifle and the other clutching onto a sturdy tree branch, Dell expertly slid down from their lookout point. As soon as their booted feet touched the ground, they broke into a swift jog towards Matt, who waited for them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Getting closer, they could see the tension lining his shoulders, the young man's jaw clenched and his pulse jumping in his neck as he scanned their surroundings. His brown-eyed gaze lingered on the dead man sprawled at his feet, the one Dell had shot in the head, before he glanced up to see Dell watching him expectantly.

A sigh hissed past his lips as Matt canted his head to the side, looking Dell over from head to foot. His features crumpled a little, seeming conflicted, before he eventually nodded just slightly to himself upon seeing they weren't hurt... but in general still looking pretty freaking mad.

"Let's get moving," he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight as he turned towards the narrow, brick-lined path Dell had pointed out earlier. "I took care of the other guys before circling back around, so we shouldn't have any more... problems..."

He marched forward, his heavy leather boots stomping on the crunchy, crumbling brick and dried leaves as he made his way onto the winding trail.

Dell, left with no choice but to follow, trotted after him.

"Hey, what's your deal?" they grumbled, their eyebrows furrowing in frustration as they frowned at his back.

Matt turned his head just slightly, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, his expression tense and worried.

"What's my deal?" he groused, shoving aside a stray branch that blocked their path with perhaps a bit more force than strictly necessary, the dumb thing snapping off and thunking to the ground. He stepped over it with ease, whilst Dell had to hop a little to skip over it. "I should be asking you the same thing. I told you to stay put!"

Dell's body bristled at the accusatory tone in Matt's voice, their eyes going wide with a hint of shock before narrowing into a defensive glare.

"Don't you get angry at me," they huffed back. "I was only trying to help you! If I hadn't shot that one guy, he might've... I don't know, killed you or something while you were trying to go all... all Jason Voorhees on them!"

"I don't even know who that is," Matt scoffed, facing forward now, striding ahead of them without looking back. "I had the situation under control."

"Oh, yeah, dude. Real controlled," they said in a sulky tone of voice, falling a few paces behind now. "It seemed to me that you were about to get smacked in the head or something, if you didn't have somebody watching out for you," they added, then waited for a response, their arms still folded. When none came, they grumbled, "A simple thank you would have been enough."

"Thank you?" Matt wheeled around in the middle of the stone path, drawing to an abrupt halt, his voice rising in irritation. "For what, Dell? Almost blowing my cover and trying to get yourself hurt or killed? I told you to stay put for a reason. Those guys, they were dangerous! You understand that, right?!"

"No more dangerous than the ones you 'took care of,' I'm sure," Dell retorted, making air quotes with their fingers. "You just treat me like I'm—like I'm some kind of little kid half the time, and it pisses me the heck off, dude! I'm not even that much younger than you, and just because I don't have my super-duper special hunting license doesn't mean I'm any less capable than you are! Face it, you need me here."

Matt's face flushed an angry, sweltering red.

"Dell. The only thing... I need for you to do, is to go back home where you belong... instead of swanning around where you clearly don't," he seethed, gesturing wildly at the surrounding woodland, his voice cracking with frustration as he emphasized his point. "We can't keep on going like this!"

"Where I belong, huh? What's that supposed to mean?" Dell demanded. Their green eyes burned, and they hastily scrubbed a hand over them, fixing Matt with a sour look.

And the comment about going home? There was no going home, not for Dell. Not anymore.

"What I mean is, you're in over your head, kid," said Matt, trying to lower his voice a little, his temper simmering down now that he saw just how upset Dell was getting. "And maybe... maybe so am I. This is deadly business, not just a fun hike. You could have been seriously injured if things had gone sideways back there. Honestly, I'm starting to think maybe we shouldn't have even attempted this. It seems like things have gone badly at every turn. I don't know why I let you convince me—"

Barking a laugh, Dell cut him off swiftly, their tone absolutely drenched in biting sarcasm.

"Oh, I see. So now I'm just a helpless kid, am I? Thanks for the support," they said, their voice thick from the tears they were fighting to hold back, green eyes bright and tinged with red. "I can handle my own affairs perfectly well, Matt. I don't require your or anyone else treating me like a child."

"Then why don't you just—stop acting like one!"

Flinching, Dell jerked back as if Matt had struck them across the face. The words seemed to slice across the hushed trees around them, reverberating throughout the jungle. Somewhere high above, a bird suddenly took flight, spooked by the unexpected noise from below.

Matt and Dell stood and locked eyes, their chests heaving with heavy breaths. The air felt heated and tense between them, damn near suffocating.

Eventually, Matt averted his gaze, raking his fingers through his dark locks. "Look, Dell, I... I shouldn't have said that, okay? Any of that, really. Let's just... focus on moving forward and checking out this... stupid ruin, or whatever," he mumbled, sounding tired. "We can talk about this later."

He turned sharply and continued down the path, his body stiff and his steps quick, clipped. Dell observed him for a moment before trailing behind, their hands sullenly shoved in their pockets, leaving a good bit of distance between them.

Neither spoke after that.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

As Dell and Matt's silhouettes faded into the looming shadows of the vine thicket, a tall, well-muscled figure emerged from the dark foliage at their backs with scarcely a rustle of disturbed leaves. The creature moved fluidly despite its hulking physique, its slow, surefooted movements almost inhuman as it melted out from between the trees.

Its armored boots were crafted from an unfamiliar alloy that was scaled in appearance—heavy, yet soundless as they trod over the various scattered twigs and dead plant matter that cushioned the forest floor. They were equipped with small, curved claw-like spikes along their thick soles and outer edges, allowing the humanoid to redistribute its weight with every step.

A sleek, helmet-like mask concealed whatever face it might have possessed from sight, lending it an unsettling, insectoid aspect that seemed out of place in such rugged, natural environs. The surface of this mask was smooth and black, with a somewhat ridged, bulbous cranium and only the faintest swooping outlines to suggest where eyes might be located behind the opaque lenses.

The creature moved with a calculated elegance, its large body towering over the lifeless figures of the two poachers. Muscles rippled beneath the mottled grey-brown skin of its legs and bulging arms as it crouched down, a series of long, smooth and fleshy appendages spilling around its masked face, the odd quills resembling brown dreadlocks in the way they settled over its broad shoulders.

Sharp talons traced the deep gash etched across the back of one body's skull, recognizing the speed and violence used to inflict such a wound. With a strange, bone-chilling trilling noise, its attention then shifted towards the damaged head of the other lifeless body, which was still leaking various watery crimson-black fluids from its shattered skull.

The creature's mandibles clicked rapidly with its increasing fascination, hidden beneath its mask as it observed the gory scene. These were efficient, swift kills, indeed.

Each body lay sprawled on the ground in a different position, with little signs of a struggle in their overgrown surroundings save for fresh tracks sinking into the mud and the blades of swamp grass crushed beneath their weight. The precision of their injuries suggested a keen understanding of human anatomy, a calculated approach to inflict maximum damage without causing reckless, sloppy pain.

This was the work of a skilled hunter, the creature reasoned, one who hunted not just for survival, but with a clear purpose in mind.

A low, purring rumble built in the alien's throat. What worthy prey this planet held.

First the hard meats of Inverxe, with their corrosive green blood and serrated fangs... and now these humans and their propensity for violence—often directed against one another. Its sharp claws flexed, flicking the blood from their pointed tips as its mandibles clicked in enthusiasm for testing its mettle against such respectable game.

It rose to its full and fearsome height, its wrist-mounted blades clicking into place with a soft, metallic scraping sound, and slowly turned its head to study the vine thicket. Its heat-sensing vision activated, scanning the darkness between the trees where the two living humans had disappeared.

Two flickering red and yellow heat signatures appeared—one figure marching ahead, leading a smaller one in its wake. Both armed, going by the positioning of their arms.

Cloaked in its dark and mottled armor, the creature crept silently into the dense vine thicket, prowling after them.