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Polly never slept. It was a waste of time, and frankly, lying down on the forest floor for a prolonged period of time sounded so unfathomably gross. Besides, it was probably for the best that he stayed up to patrol the perimeter of their camp, or whatever the hell. Yaretzi needed the rest, apparently, and Mort seemed to enjoy going dormant for a bit. The long stretch of relative silence gave him time to think, to wonder how it ended up like this. How the brilliant prodigy that stared back at him in the mirror came to be traveling Canada with an affront to everything he’d ever been taught and the predator that, frankly, should have eaten him some time ago. How the time flies. How things change.
He turned back from his thoughts, looking over at his companions. His family, now. An odd word to use for the group, but it sounded right. The last cinders of Yaretzi’s campfire were fading out, the only light illuminating the scene coming from the moon. Mort's metal carapace shone a brilliant red in the silver light, the sickly green fires in his skull dimmed. As expected, he was out like a corpse. It was, frankly, a miracle that such a chatty creature could be so quiet. The devil's gaze rolled over to Yaretzi, curled up in a little ball on the ground. Oddly enough, she had lost the wolf form, choosing instead to shiver in the cold of a spring night. She was always twitchy when she slept, but apparently, that’s simply how dogs expressed dreaming. Polly leaned in closer, curiosity crossing his face.
What on Earth did starwolves dream about?
-
The city was burning, and Yaretzi was merely a girl. No wolf under her skin, no fangs to bare, all she could do is witness it. She was crying, begging for help, screaming in anger, but nothing could be heard over the fire. Smoke flooded her senses, burning through her lungs like a wildfire. Her small, shaking hands were stained black, black with soot, with blood. Blood under her fingernails, matted in her hair, covering her face in red hot gore. Was it the fire or the heat of slaughter that was burning her? Were they the same, lines so blurred between them that you simply could not make out one from the other?
Yaretzi could hear them coming, coming to take everything away. Men in armor that shone like silver, steel blades in hand, a man with a scar over one eye, the jeering crowd taunting Yaretzi towards death, the howls and screams of combat echoing a thousand times over.
Tell me, what was this all for?
Again, as always, nothing answered. The smoke-stained sunlight stared back, blinding Yaretzi with tears. He was looking at her, just as impassive as when she was a child. They were glaring at her, blame in their eyes for failing them. Her parents, her siblings, her peers, her pack. The ashes of their memory mocked her. Another face had joined them, as of late. A tall, pale man with obnoxiously perfect hair and eyes that more than reflected the fire. Yaretzi reached out her shaking hands, desperate to hold on to him, to that stupid suit, to anything that would prevent him from crumbling to ash again.
Yaretzi.
I can save you this time, I promise, she cried.
Yaretzi.
I’m not losing my family again, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
Yaretzi.
Please, Apollyon, she begged, please hold on.
Yaretzi felt the warm hands of death on her shoulder, and she woke up.
-
“Yaretzi.” Polly peered over his sleeping companion. “Yaretzi?” She wasn’t shivering at least, so hypothermia wasn’t on his list of concerns. Yaretzi was, however, shaking and thrashing in her sleep, which wasn’t exactly normal. It’s not like Polly had experience when people slept like this! Hell, in the Industry, no one slept in general! He reached out, putting a hand on Yaretzi’s shoulder. Maybe this will steady her, or something. The small woman recoiled under him, twisting around and grabbing his wrist with clawed hands. She was breathing heavily, golden eyes manic and wide with… Fear?
“Woah there, Yaretzi.” He took in a few deep breaths, hoping that she’d get the message and follow his example. “You were shaking, what’s going on?”
Yaretzi leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. She was still shaking, but at least she was breathing normally, and her claws had returned to small, calloused hands. “Night terrors. Nothing real, thank the stars.”
“Night terrors?” Polly tried to recall the concept, but all his mind could turn up was a pile of eyes with a booming voice and an inferiority complex.
“I… I have struggled with them for quite some time.” Yaretzi sighed, turning her gaze away from the devil. “They’ve gotten worse, as of late.”
“Worse… In what way? Do you mean more frequent, or of a higher intensity?” Polly inquired, tipping his head ever so slightly to the side. “Unless that’s too personal, I do not want to pry.”
Yaretzi rolled her eyes. “Ever the pedant. Both, to sate your curiosity.” She shifted her legs, curling up into a ball. It was at times like these that Polly was reminded of how small she was. How fragile she was without her claws and teeth. He sighed, brushing back some of his hair.
“Do you want to talk about it, Yaretzi?” He tried to look approachable, kind even. But judging by the face his dear friend made in reaction, he likely failed. Great. Polly took a deep breath and changed his approach. “I want to know what’s troubling you. You’re family, and your problems will become mine sooner or later.”
That made Yaretzi smile a bit, but that faded quickly as it came. “It was about you, actually.”
“Oh. Is that a good thing, or-”
“Apollyon, it was a nightmare. It was not a good thing.”
“Ah.”
“You were there, and you were dying. Crumbling in my hands, like how you crumbled when those churchmen ambushed us.” Golden eyes welled with fresh tears. “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save you, or anyone else. Sure, you came back, but you still died while in my care! I have so much blood on my hands, Apollyon.”
“You have killed a lot of people. Demons, mostly, from my understanding.” Polly tried to joke a bit, lighten the mood.
“It’s not that!” Yaretzi looked him in the eyes now, years of pent-up hurt glaring back at Polly. “I failed to protect my home, my family, my pack! And I couldn’t protect you! I was terrified at the thought of losing you, of losing my family for a second time.”
Polly fell silent, letting the wind that rustled the tree branches above them speak in his place. He cleared his throat, not wanting the silence to grow awkward. “What happened with the Church of the Hallowed Name was a fluke. A horrible accident. I won’t let it happen again.” He placed a hand on hers. “I won’t scare you like that again.”
“You can’t make promises like that. Not to me.” Yaretzi didn’t break her gaze. “I’m not so gullible anymore.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit, so at least the amateur attempt at comfort did something. Polly leaned in, pulling Yaretzi into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder.
“None of those losses were your fault, Yaretzi. And don’t you dare try to debate me on that, I will win.” Polly felt Yaretzi’s dry laugh, even as it was muffled by his suit jacket.
“You would. You’re very good with words.”
“Why, thank you. Here I thought my eloquence went unappreciated.”
“I could still kill and eat you, you know.” Despite the threat, she held Polly tighter, cherishing the hug while it lasted.
Polly smiled warmly. “Oh, I know. Maybe save that meal for after we get to that carnival, though.”
“If this little group lasts that long.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist.” Polly started to run his fingers through Yaretzi's hair, gently untangling any knots that may have been caused by her thrashing. “I know one thing for certain, dearest starwolf. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Yaretzi smiled, breathing in the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke. “Neither am I.”