Chapter Text
When the searcher opens her eyes again, cold gray light is filtering through the grating. Her head is still resting on the other stick’s shoulder, and there’s a crick in her neck from being in that position for so long.
She straightens, wincing at the pain in her neck, and then freezes.
Pain blossoms in her side, but it’s not as sharp as it was the day before.
The other stick shifts slightly, muttering something under his breath as the searcher tugs the hem of her shirt upward. Nausea overwhelms her, bile biting at the back of her throat, and she closes her eyes and swallows, hard.
It’s bad. He wasn’t lying, before.
But…
“Hey,” the searcher whispers hoarsely. She hates to wake him, hates to think how exhausted he must be, but he saw it last night. He’ll know if it’s improved.
The other stick’s eyes open at the sound of her voice, and he takes in her face in one swift glance. Then his eyes drop down to her side.
He stills, and then he’s turning to examine the wound more closely.
“Please,” the searcher whispers.
The other stick lifts his head, meeting her eyes. He offers her a smile, small and wavering.
“It’s healing.”
The searcher gasps, a single, harsh sob, and lets her head tilt forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” the other stick says, his voice thin. “It’s going to be okay.”
His shoulder jerks, and the searcher leans back again. The other stick drags his sleeve across his face, wiping his eyes, and takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“Not alone,” he mutters, his eyes wide. “Not alone.”
The searcher’s eyes flick to the other stick’s wrist, where the sleeve has pulled back to reveal stained bandages.
“You’re hurt,” she whispers.
The other stick stares at her, confused, and she reaches out to place a single finger on the bandage.
He looks down, and his face falls, his shoulders hunching up to his ears.
“It’s old,” he murmurs. “It…hasn’t healed.”
His words from the night before echo in her mind. Sometimes they heal. Sometimes they don’t.
“Does it…is it hurting you, much?” she whispers.
He shrugs. “Some days more than others.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
The other stick startles. His eyes widen as he gives her a shocked look.
“What?” the searcher asks, cocking her head.
He scrunches into himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, and the only word she can think for the attitude he presents is sheepish.
“’M not allowed to say that word,” he mumbles.
The searcher pauses, her mouth opening as she starts to say something, only to stop herself. She stays very still. She studies his face, thinking that it could be young if it weren’t so thin and tired, and wonders how long he’s been trapped in this gray silence.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, a low, unsettling growl.
The searcher opens her mouth again, not even sure what she plans to say.
“A little rebellion is healthy,” she says, and grins.
It’s a manic, slightly hysterical grin, and she doesn’t want to know how unhinged she must look. She’s got so much fear and relief running through her veins that she doesn’t even know how she feels about anything anymore. And – oh, shit, that hurts, it aggravates bruises she didn’t even know she had, but it’s worth it.
Because the other stick’s nose scrunches up. And then he laughs.
It’s a single, hoarse bark, and she only knows it’s a laugh by the way his eyes crinkle. But it’s a laugh. The culvert arching overhead seem to loom even closer, dark and threatening. But it’s the first joyful sound that she’s heard in this place. Her side throbs again, making stars dance in her vision. But she doesn’t care.
“Shit,” he says, and flushes bright red. “This entire place is shit.”
“Yeah,” the searcher says, her grin softening to something gentle. “It really is.”
She pauses, realizing something. “I can’t smell them.”
The other stick nods. “Another pack was hunting last night, and they left to go follow them. We need to stay here for another few hours, just in case, but I think…” He smiles, tentative and hopeful. “I think we’re gonna be okay.”
“We damn well better be,” the searcher says.
The other stick’s smile widens, growing a little lopsided. A feeling like warm honey blooms in the searcher’s chest, and she smiles back.
It feels…like sunshine. It feels like not being alone.
They’re neither of them alone. Not anymore.