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“If we die, I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh come on, Wally. You don’t really mean that.” He looked over to his commander rather nervously. “If we die, I’m—”
“If we die,” Walter leaned his face in close enough Ben wished he couldn’t smell his breath, “I’m going. To kill you.” Ben could practically hear the capital K on the word.
And frankly? He didn’t blame Walter for saying it. Their situation was entirely Ben’s fault; after accidentally setting off his musket into the ground (and nearly taking off the old man’s foot), they found themselves face-to-face with a huge horde of hollow men. It had obviously been very graciously notified of their presence from the noise (and Ben’s terrified exclamations thereafter hadn’t helped, he was sure) and had chased them— you guessed it— right into a cave.
It wasn’t all bad: the cave was rather large and somehow less humid than the surrounding Mourningwood air had been, but they were, pretty hopelessly, lost. Of course Walter was fuming— to find himself wandering aimlessly in a seemingly endless cave to starve or get ripped apart by hollow men was ought to be the cruelest form of irony, but Ben didn’t know that.
“Well, look at the bright side—”
“Shut up, Ben.”
“Oh come on, I was only—”
“Shut up, Ben.”
Walter was tired. They’d been walking a long time to begin with, and to have run themselves into a cave after an idiot mistake with no preparations— He only prayed they’d make it out before dark. The cave itself wasn’t too dim, some light seeming to come from somewhere, but Walter just didn’t know if he was going to be able to hold up through a night in there.
“Look, I’m sorry, Walter. I know this is all my fault, and I promise we’re going to find our way out of here— and then you can kill me.”
Walter rolled his eyes. “If we don’t find a way out of here soon, you aren’t going to make it until nightfall.”
“Well, until then, how about we…” Ben looked up, as though searching for an idea on the ceiling. “List different ways to off me, and then at the end when we do find our way out, you can choose your favorite? Should keep us occupied.” And spirits up, Walter mused.
“Sounds like a bloody fine plan to me,” he laughed, breaking his cold front.
At least Ben was good company.