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Misty's light footfalls patter behind her, constant and irritating as always. Nat starts walking faster, pretends not to hear her as she follows the trail to the lake, familiar even in the dark of night.
She never used to mind her company. But ever since she found out the truth about just what kind of person she is, just the sight of her is enough to make her see red, and it doesn't help that Misty has been clinging onto her like a fucking leech whenever Shauna and Tai and Lottie are out of sight.
"I think we're making really good progress on the plan," Misty whispers, voice dropping on the last two words. "At this rate, we should be ready to, you know, any day now. I'm really excited. Are you?"
"Be quiet," Nat hisses. She pushes some plants to the side. They're almost at the lake, so there's no chance anyone's close enough to overhear them, but she'd still rather not listen to Misty's incessant chatter.
"I don't think anyone has any idea. You're totally going to blindside them." Her voice is full of barely restrained glee. Like this is just another game of Capture the Bone. It makes Nat's stomach churn with disgust.
"I said shut up." She can't believe she ever defended her, ever fell for her bullshit wolf-in-sheep's clothing act that everyone else seemed to see through.
They make it to the edge of the lake. Moonbeams reflect off the water and there are so many stars shimmering in the sky, more than she had ever seen in Wiskayok, that it hardly feels dark at all. Just a few months ago, right after the crash when there was plenty of game and nothing horrible had happened yet, she would have thought it was beautiful. Now she's just concerned with how visible and vulnerable they are.
Misty pads over to her side. Nat can feel the anxiety emanating from her in waves. "Um, I just wanted to ask, what are you planning on doing when we get back? Maybe we could take some college classes together — I want to go to med school, but there's still all the undergraduate GE's, so…" Her hand fumbles for Nat's, tiny fingers trying to entangle with her own in a pathetically audacious bid for connection and Nat hates it, hates her, can't help but feel like all of this is for nothing and just some sort of set-up so Misty can pull the rug out from under her again, again, again.
She rips her arm away. Misty stares at her with wide, hurt eyes. The sheer audacity makes Nat feel so claustrophobic that, acting almost entirely on instinct, she raises her hands and shoves hard.
Misty tries to regain her footing, but one of her legs gets stuck in the water and it throws off her balance, sending her stumbling backwards into the lake. Her feet flounder in the air for purchase but the only thing they manage to catch on is the back of Nat's ankle, sending her crashing into Misty.
The water seeps into Nat's pants and shirtsleeves, freezing cold and a reminder that winter is fast approaching. She manages to catch herself before getting completely drenched, but Misty isn't so lucky, completely submerged under her. She panics and thrashes like a wild animal, feral and without the terrifying composure Nat's come to expect from her. She splashes and flails and tries to push Nat off of her, scratching and clawing at her arms and face with the single-minded panic of cornered prey, a far cry from the way she was trying to cozy up to her less than a minute ago.
Her nails burn as they dig into her cheek. Nat is fairly certain she's drawn blood. She can hardly think through the pain, but she's bigger and stronger by far so it's easy (too easy) for her to pin Misty's arms to the floor and hold her head below the surface.
She's just much an animal as Misty. For a moment, she revels in the power of having her trapped beneath her, struggling with her pupils blown out, bubbles escaping from her lips as she fails to breathe.
Maybe Misty's wormed her way between her ribs and behind her skull, a parasite that hides and feasts until its unknowing host perishes. It's too late for her to lose; she's gotten everything she ever dreamed of. But the past eighteen months have hardened Natalie. She's learned to play by the rules of the wilderness — survival of the fittest, dog-eat-dog. She has control here. Victory is hers.
A horrible voice in the back of her head speaks of opportunity. She doesn't need Misty. Not really. Van knows the technology better than either of them. And no one back at camp would care, or even notice. Just a few more minutes and revenge would be hers.
But then the fight starts to leave Misty. Her hands still against Nat's body and the fear in her eyes fades into something more like resignation. A cloud passes over the moon. The lake goes dark and for a second Natalie can't seem to differentiate between Misty's face and her own reflection.
It was never an option. Not really.
She leans back and pulls Misty to the shore.
The minute she's out of the water, Misty drags herself away from Natalie, curling up on herself like a frightened child. She's shaking. The sight sends a familiar cocktail of shame and guilt up from Nat's stomach to sit bitter in the back of her throat.
"Shit, Misty, I…" she stops and swallows. "Are you okay?"
Instead of answering, Misty coughs up water. With her anger fading Nat starts to feel the familiar bone-aching chill of wet clothes sticking to her skin. She can only imagine how much worse it must be for Misty, who was actually fully submerged.
Nat moves closer and tries to touch her shoulder but Misty flinches away. Despite everything, it still stings, because if even Misty doesn't want her touch, how fucked up has Nat become? How much has this place rotted her soul?
As much as she wants to, she doesn't reach out again. Just watches from a few feet away, scanning for the familiar signs of hypothermia.
Eventually, Misty sits upright. She takes her glasses off, wipes them, and returns them to her face. The ritual seems to calm her down somewhat, but her eyes are still unfocused and flitting around the clearing. Eventually, they reach Nat's face, which gives her enough clarity to shrink back in shame. "You're bleeding. Natalie, I'm so sorry, I—"
"Can I touch you?"
"What?"
"You're going to freeze," Nat says, because it's easier than I'm worried. Easier than I'm sorry. "Let me help."
Misty doesn't reply, just stares at her with wide bloodshot eyes. Normally Natalie would give her space, but she really doesn't want to watch someone else freeze to death because of her. So she steps forward slowly, one foot after another like she might bolt.
"Take this off," Nat says, pushing Misty's battered old DIY Equipment Manager jacket off her shoulders. "Shit, you're freezing. Okay, outer layers off, we need to get you back to camp—"
Misty stiffens. "No."
"The fuck do you mean 'no,' there's fire—"
"No!" She shakes her head aggressively. Between her chattering teeth and bedraggled hair, she looks like a half-drowned rat.
"Misty, you'll get hypothermia, remember last winter?"
"It's not winter yet." Voice uneven and avoiding eye contact, she adds, "They'll get suspicious. We can't risk it."
Nat wants to fight back, say they'll come up with something and her life is more important, but she knows it'll be pointless. Misty's clearly hiding something, and she's possibly the most stubborn person Nat's ever met, so if she doesn't want to go Nat definitely won't be able to force her. "Fine." She shrugs, trying to appear more collected than she feels. "But we need shelter, at least. Coach's caves aren't too far from here."
Seemingly relieved that she isn't making a bigger deal of it, Misty acquiesces. "Okay." Nat balls up the soaked jacket under one arm and wraps the other around Misty to help her stand. She leans into it like an embrace, shivering against Nat's warmth. It takes every ounce of self-control not to panic or spiral. Focus on the task at hand.
They hobble across the woods in each other's arms. Misty sniffles and sneezes against her shoulder but other than that, she's completely silent.
Fuck. Fuck. What's wrong with her? She must be even worse than Misty. As horrible as she is, at least Misty never killed anyone. Not like Nat, once, twice, maybe thrice, in cold blood, for no reason at all.
She's grateful once they make it to the cave and she can focus on actually doing something helpful. She grabs old matches and firewood and blankets, trying not to think about the person who stayed here last. Once Misty is finally bundled up by a gently roaring fire, Nat's heart finally starts to calm. She'll be okay.
For a good while, Misty only stares into the flames. Nat watches them dance in the reflection of her glasses. She wants to move closer but the thought of Misty flinching away again scares her too much to try.
Misty finally breaks the silence. "You really should clean your cut. Do you want me to do it?"
Huh? Nat raises her hand to her cheek; it comes back bloody. Oh. Right. Misty had scratched her. "Don't worry about it. Just focus on warming up."
"At least sit by the fire. You're freezing, too."
Awkwardly, Nat shuffles closer, making sure to keep at least six inches of space between them. For Misty's sake. "…So. Uh. How are you feeling?"
Misty tilts her head and smiles. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Sorry for freaking out."
"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I…" Her throat tightens. She can't finish the sentence. Her hand flexes against cold stone.
Misty watches the movement with an unreadable expression on her face. "I have aquaphobia," she finally confesses. "It's really bad. My mom says I just need to learn to swim but I just— I can't, every time I'm in the water it's like my limbs don't work right, and if my head goes under I'll die, I won't be able to get out and I'll just drown right there."
Misty blinks hard, then continues, voice wavering. "I know it's stupid. But when I was young — like, really young — I fell in our pool. I remember screaming and splashing and doing everything I could for attention but no one noticed until sometime after I passed out. I don't know what happened but someone must have gotten me out eventually and done CPR or something, because I woke up on the concrete and everyone was really mad at me. And I knew I almost died, and if it happened again, I probably would, so—"
Nat hugs her, as tight as she possibly can, because no way can she possibly put all the emotions she's feeling into words but she needs to do something, anything to comfort her.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Misty raises her arms to return the gesture. "…Nat?"
"You can't swim, but you chased me across the lake?"
"Well, when you're hungry enough to resort to cannibalism, phobias tend to take a backseat."
"You tackled me. You saved my life. After watching the ice break."
"Um." Misty pulls back and fiddles with her glasses, looking away. "I just… It shouldn't have been you. I didn't want it to be you."
Nat lets her head fall against Misty's shoulder. This is fucked. She has a thousand reasons to hate her. They're talking about the death of a thirteen-year-old boy. But the sentiment still warms her more than the fire ever could. "I'm a monster," she whispers. One confession for another.
"No," Misty hisses. "You did what you had to. He was going to die anyways, and the group needed you."
Natalie shakes her head. "Even before here, I mean. I killed my father." The memory stings but she powers through. She owes Misty an explanation for this part of her, the one that responds to threats with claws and teeth. "Technically, he shot himself. But… I pointed the gun at him. I tried to pull the trigger."
"He deserved it," Misty responds automatically. Like it's a simple indisputable fact. Like it absolves her of guilt entirely.
"Does anyone? Who are we to decide?"
Misty smiles at her, soft and sad. "Who else is there?" She adjusts the blanket so it covers both of them. A shield from the elements. Nat presses closer and tries not to think about the person who left it here for them.
"I wasn't going to kill you," she mumbles. Maybe if she says it out loud, it'll become true.
"I know. You pulled me out. It was just self-defense, I mean, I scratched you first."
Which isn't a real excuse. But she appreciates the thought.
"We're almost home, Nat. You're going to save us, and then none of this will matter." From her lips, it sounds like a prayer. Natalie realizes she must need this just as much as her, redemption without confession.
Fuck, does she want to go home. She misses air conditioning and clothes that aren't made of animal furs and salvaged plane parts. Funny how she spent so much of her life dreaming of escape only to end up yearning for nothing more than that stupid shitty trailer.
She isn't sure why, but she finds herself saying, "I'll take those classes with you. If you want."
"Really?" Misty beams at her, bright and enthusiastic the way Nat remembers her being about everything back before the crash. Happiness has become nostalgic. "You can pick the subject, I don't want to steamroll you or anything. What about guitar, do you like guitar? I'm not really good with instruments, but I always thought you would be."
Nat lets Misty keep rambling as she starts to doze off against her shoulder. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off and she realizes she's utterly exhausted. Now that she knows Misty is safe, she wants nothing more than to go to sleep.
She must have fallen asleep at some point, because she wakes to the sensation of Misty wiping the blood off her cheek.
"Nat?" Misty whispers.
"Hm..?" She's disoriented, groggy.
"I think I'm dry now. Do you want to head back, before the others wake up?"
She should say yes. Shauna's already suspicious, and if they get caught wandering back in the morning, it could ruin everything. But it's so warm in the cave, and she's tired, and Misty makes a surprisingly comfortable pillow. "Nah," she mumbles. "We can come up with something."