Chapter Text
Mud flattened underneath the weight of their feet as they treaded lightly through the forest.
The path ahead was dimly lit by the lighter Coco held in front of them. The lighter was a simple brass color, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She had found it a few months back in the pocket of a soldier’s corpse as she dug around for any supplies worth keeping.
(As her filthy hands dug through his blood soaked pockets, her trembling fingers brushed over something hard—metal. Without a thought, she ripped open his pocket, desperate for anything.
Instead, she finds a locket in the shape of a heart. It was small in her palm, useless and dumb. Yet, as she pries it open, a face of a woman greets her. Usually, Coco would not think anything of it, many soldiers had pictures of their wives.
This one, though, is rather unusual. The woman, Coco realizes, only looks like a child—around 16 years, she reckons.
It’s stupid. Coco has lived in this never ending war for years already, she knows there are children in similar situations such as her own. But as she gazes at the youthful girl’s picture, she cannot help the way her hands seem to tremble even more; she cannot help the way her eyes close in grief.
She closes the locket and looks down at the little boy beneath her.
His face was unrecognizable, and she thinks maybe his face was blown off by a thousand bullets.
She wonders what he looked like before.
Crouching down, she gently places the locket back in his pocket. Even if he is dead, far away from his home—his family, she could at least leave him some comfort.)
The fire danced lightly as a cold breeze swept through the trees. Coco tensed her muscles, shoving the need to shiver down. She frowned as she felt the slight quiver of Custas’s hand. Quiet but still there. His grip tightened, as if reassuring her. Coco spared him no attention.
It wouldn't be good for either of them if Custas ended up sick.
“It’s a bit cold tonight, ain’t it?” Custas spoke in a hushed tone, voice rough.
Coco only hummed noncommittally before she blinked, as if remembering where she was. “Yeah…” was her dumb response. If Custas noticed her lack of conversation, he didn’t comment on it.
He shrugged, gazing down at his feet.
Silence filled the air.
It was humid, and Coco’s clothes stuck uncomfortably to her skin. She kept marching forward, desperately holding back the urge to dig her dirt-filled nails into her disgusting skin and scratching until the full body itch went away.
Her stomach hurt. It was a muted feeling, like the pain was far away.
“I was thinking…” Coco's quiet voice cut through the air, missing the way Custas flinched at the sound of it. “Do you remember what happened before we...came here?”
In her dream—or whatever that was—she couldn’t remember how she even got there. It’s like she suddenly gained consciousness and found herself sitting in a grass field, staring at Agott and the others. It was a strange sensation, and Coco had no idea how to explain it.
‘Actually…’ Her steps faltered for a second (behind her, it didn’t go unnoticed), ‘where did they go?’ Something happened, yet she couldn’t place her finger on it…
‘Agott, Tetia, Richeh…What happ—‘
“No,” Custas gripped her hand tighter, bordering the line of painful, “I just woke up here and saw you…” He trailed off, mind wandering to the unpleasant events that took place a few moments after. Coco only nodded in understanding, not wanting to push Custas too much, lest he lash out.
She hummed, though it transformed into a groan as she felt the burning sensation in her stomach spread to her already scratchy throat. Her vision swam dangerously for a moment, and she dug her heels into the mud as she hugged her stomach. Sweat pooled on her temple, yet she didn’t feel hot at all, rather, she felt so unbearably cold.
Rough hands gripped her shoulders painfully, and Custas’s shoes appeared in her vision.
“Coco..!” He gave a harsh whisper, and she whimpered pathetically in response. “You’ve got—“
“I know!” She whispered back just as harshly. She knows, she knows—it is one of the most important lessons she’s had to learn herself: they need to be quiet. But her stomach twists painfully (like something is there), and the need to throw up her insides on the mud is almost impossible to ignore.
This attack comes suddenly and without warning, and it confuses her to no end. Why, of all places and times, is she sick now—when her friends are possibly in danger or dead, and she is lost with no memory, and she is so nauseatingly sick?
(Her mom’s warm fingers brush through her damp hair, gently soothing her into a seamless sleep. The action is so simple yet so comforting, and she never wants to—)
Her body jerked with a gag that she quickly muffled.
She breathed as quietly as she could, chest stuttering every few breaths. The nausea slowly died down, and she could finally let her body relax as the pain in her stomach left. She felt strangely hollow, empty.
Yet, although the attack had left, her body continued to tremble, almost violently.
‘Why am I still…’
Above her, her brother let out a shaky breath, and his fingers tightened around her shoulders. Coco lifted her hands, placing them over the back of his calloused hands to signal him to let go. She froze.
‘Ah.’ Custas’s hands shook, his palms clammy with sweat. ‘I’m not the one shaking.’ Coco realized.
She doesn’t know what to do. She almost threw up bile and spit onto the mud, and Custas is trembling like a leaf above her.
It’s understandable, she thinks. In this war, there is no medicine—nothing to save them from their inevitable fate. She is a sick dog, and if this continues, Custas might just have to put her down like one (like she did to him).
Coco patted his hands as she straightened up. The cool air swept through the trees, and she shivered at the feeling. It felt nice as it blew on her damp skin.
At her signal, Custas finally let go of her. He kneeled to the ground and picked up her lighter. She must’ve dropped it when she had that attack.
After Custas handed it to her, she lit it up again, holding it up in front of her and illuminating the path ahead.
The air around them felt awkward. Custas shuffled in place, holding his hands behind his back. Coco held back a giggle at the sight. He looked like a little boy, but he’d definitely get even more pouty if she brought it up.
She thought about it for a moment before nodding.
“Custas,” She paused, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, she offered a soft smile and continued. “Ya look like an idiot.”
Coco ran around to dodge his attacks.
——
“Just how big is this damn forest…”
Coco threw her arms up, narrowly missing Custas who dodged. “Right? We’ve been walking for ages.”
He looked up into the night sky. “At this rate, we’ll be walking ‘till the sun rises.”
She held back the urge to yawn before looking up, too. Custas was right: they’ve been traveling through these forests for what felt like hours already. They needed to get out before they get too exhausted.
Coco let out a tired hum. “If we’re still here by morning, we’ll have to set camp, so we could both rest.”
Custas sighed but nodded, obviously not wanting to but accepting it. Her stomach twisted painfully, hand twitching up before resting at her side once more. She didn’t have the right to comfort him. She felt bad, but it was something that had to be done.
Truthfully, neither of them liked the forest. It was an all too familiar scenery that left them feeling ill. It was her fault, a sin Coco has been forced to live with ‘till the day she died. Maybe this sickness is her atonement. Better yet, she hoped God had a special place just for her in hell.
“Coco, you should be the one to rest first, then.”
Coco snapped her head so fast Custas wondered how she didn’t break it doing so, as he fastened his pace in order to walk beside her.
“What?!” She slammed a thumb against her chest as she whisper-yelled at him. “I’m the big sister here, I should get the first watch!”
Pointing at her neck, he shivered as he looked at her like she was crazy. “Jesus, didn’t that hurt? Also, I’m the older one!” He jabbed a finger at himself. Great, now they were both whisper-yelling.
She rubbed her neck but still maintained eye contact. “Yes, it hurt a lot actually! But that doesn’t matter! You totally ignored my—“
Suddenly, Custas squeezed his nose shut, scrunching up his face. “What the hell is that smell?”
Coco paused, sniffing the air as they continued walking. She winced at the foul odor that invaded her nostrils. “I thought it was you, but now that you’ve mentioned it…”
Custas pointedly ignored the jab at him. “I didn’t notice it at first, but it’s getting stronger.”
They walked in a tense silence as they trudged through the mud, getting closer and closer to the nauseating smell, the playful atmosphere a mere memory, now. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest ‘till it was all she could hear.
But as they approached the stench, ice filled Coco’s veins, her stomach dropping. She held her nose in her hand as she tried not to take in the dreadful, familiar scent that has haunted her ever since the war began.
Custas’s hands twist into a fist at his sides, blunt nails surely leaving crescent marks on his palms.
Slowly, they come to a stop. In front of them was an old battle field. Bodies were scattered across the ground and inside makeshift trenches, guns laid at their sides, some holding theirs like a little girl would to her stuffed animal.
It was a disturbingly familiar scene, one that Coco has seen countless times over the years. She used to be scared—she was supposed to be trembling and wailing in terror at the sight of death all around her, yet, oddly, she did not feel anything.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. The bodies still made her hands shake; their lifeless eyes still kept her up at night; and the stench of their rotting flesh and blood still made her stomach queasy.
Coco just learnt to deal with it.
This maturity, she thinks, comes with war.
Careful not to trip, she stepped over to the trench closest to them. Custas followed silently.
She only glanced inside for a second before she turned to her brother. “Do you feel like checking?”
‘Do you feel like checking their dead, rotting corpses?’
A question she always asked in case he ever didn’t feel up for it.
Custas hesitated, seemingly thinking about it, before shaking his head.
Behind her mask, she blinked. It was a bit surprising. Well, she asked but hadn’t expected him to actually deny checking their bodies. Usually, they were all up for it, even Ininia, but it seems Custas’ll sit this one out.
Ever since they’ve woken up in this forest…Custas has been acting weird.
Coco nodded at him before patting his shoulder. “Okay, just rest for now. I’ll go check.”
He nodded back at her, walking away to the side to relax somewhere.
Turning back to the trench, she gazed at the scenery before her once again. ‘I’ve got a lot of ground to cover…’ She sweatdropped. Groaning internally, she cracked her knuckles, grabbing the ledge and carefully dropping into the trench. A mix of water and mud splashed as her feet hit the ground.
Immediately, her nose was attacked by the strong smell of the corpses, and she closed her eyes shut and covered her nose on instinct. Only a few seconds passed as Coco adjusted to the smell before her eyes fluttered open.
The soldier’s clothes looked like it had been chewed on, and the only thing in its place was the sight of his ribcage. His insides were gone, and it was surprisingly clean, as if it had been licked clean. A fitting metaphor, considering how his face’s flesh looked like it had been torn off, leaving spots of his skull peeking out. His eyes were gone, hollowed out.
Coco squeezed her eyes and nose shut again as soon as her brain processed what she had just witnessed. She tried not to gag at the sight of his deformed body and the smell of his rotting flesh.
‘What the fuck, what the fuck—‘ She repeated in her head like a mantra. She felt sick to her stomach.
It made sense. They were in the woods, animals were sure to come and get a piece of food when it presented itself.
This was different, she recognized in the back of her mind. His torso was hollowed out strangely, and it looked as if only small chunks of his face were eaten. And, his eyes were completely gone.
What kind of animal did this?
‘More than one, obviously. It’s the forest, there’s a bunch of animals that could’ve eaten from this body.’ Coco reasoned to herself.
As much as she wanted to climb her way out and into the arms of her brother, they still couldn’t pass up the opportunity for resources. Coco braced herself, and she reluctantly looked at the body as she uncovered her nose to properly feel around.
She felt around his remaining pockets frantically. She was ready to get this over with and go far, far away. Unfortunately, she was going a little too fast.
She flinched as she accidentally hit his helmet, wincing at the way his head jerked backwards. “Oh…sorry?” Coco apologized hesitantly. He stayed silent.
She sighed as she went to continue her search—
“Jesus Christ!”
An unusually large rat squeezed its way out of the soldier’s too little eye socket, making disgusting, wet, squelching noises on its way. Once it made its escape, it scurried off to God knows where.
Coco trembled, her hand clutching her heart as it beat rapidly inside her ribcage. She stared at the body in horror.
‘What the fuck.’
She gulped loudly, swallowing the urge to vomit. “I’m…gonna ignore that.” And hopefully forget it.
She stood up, limbs still stiff from the scare earlier. She looked at the body one last time before shuddering and backing away from it. ‘Did a rat do this…?’
Coco shook her head, dismissing the thought. ’No, no, no—a rat couldn’t have done all this.’ …She really hoped the next one didn’t have rats.
Coco liked to think that maybe her sickness was God’s way of making her repent, but nothing could ever be enough to make up for her sins. Is what God is obviously hinting at her because immediately as she takes a step over the body, squeaks erupted from all sides of her.
She shrieked, all blood abandoning her body and leaving only a hollow, pale shell behind, as a swarm of rats fled the bodies of the fallen soldiers. Coco jumped—and she swears, she did not pee a little—flailing her limbs around wildly before clutching her face as they run past her and go off somewhere Coco hopes burns in hell with her.
Custas ran over to her, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world, that bastard. “You should’ve seen your face! Ya look like ya saw a damn demon!” He cackled, patting her head from above as Coco caught her breath.
She swatted at him weakly, missing completely, making him laugh even more.
“Didn’t you say to be quiet? I think I’m gonna throw up…”
“Yeah, well, after you shrieked like a monkey, nothing came, so I think it’s safe.” Custas smirked down at her, and he looked like he was about to make fun of her again as he glanced behind him before he froze.
Coco blinked tiredly at him, raising a brow at his silence. She stiffened as she heard those damn squeaks above her.
Custas’s voice was shaking when he spoke up. “W…what the fuck are they doing..?”
A cold sweat began to form, and a never ending pit burned in her stomach. She thinks if she climbed up and looked, she might really throw up this time.
Coco squeezed her eyes shut before making her ascent out of the trench.
Her breath was knocked out of her, and a cold sweat broke out.
Yeah, no, she’s gonna throw up.
Bile pushed its way up through her esophagus, and she gagged painfully as her empty stomach was hollowed out onto the ground at her feet.
Above her, death loomed over their heads.
Coco really hated rats.