JUING

Cold floods her veins, but her stride remains steady. Prince's warm presence trails behind her, his massive steps somehow quieter than hers. The cave was dark and quiet, all except for her boots' tip tapping and the water plip plopping somewhere in the distance. The ceiling vanished into a bleak void, wet, pointed rocks lining the gray walls. Her glinting eyes caught faint outlines of stone and scattered debris as she moved—allowing her to step around fallen rocks, carefully following the red-and-black trail deeper.

The cave stretched on for what could have been miles—though it was so dark it was hard to say. Either way, the space was utterly gargantuan. She can't help but wonder what may grow in its shadows.

The space darkened with her every step, nervous tingles joining the nagging cold.

600 seconds pass. She counts every single one in her mind, tracking just how deep the cave went by time.

She scans the space again, searching for the Nosferatus form—only for her eyes to widen when they caught sight of a shining surface. She squints.

Lying before her was an uneven, giant glass tower. It was toppled on its side, neck tapering into an equally misshapen, smaller spire.

Curiosity tugs, and she steps closer.

If it weren't for how massive the glass structure was, being at least twenty feet tall, she would assume it was an empty bottle.

But that couldn't be right.

Her eyebrows furrow.

How could something so massive be produced? Only the inner Rings could afford to create such a formation, and even then, why would it end up all the way out here?

Despite the illogical nature of the find, the more she stared, the more apparent it became.

It was a glass bottle. No ifs or buts about it.

She leaned in, and her green eyes shone back, warbled in the glass reflection. There were small beads of a green liquid, clinging to the inner wall—there was also a strong smell of alcohol.

She presses her hand to the glass, sliding her hand across the smooth, cool surface.

Her hand finds an indentation, and she drags her hand across the valley, revealing an engraving.

It was a pair of open fangs.

She shakes her head in soft wonder, pulling back her hand.

Though fascinated, she quickly remembers her purpose. After another moment studying the feat of engineering, she turns, stepping back to the trail of blood.

She wonders just how much farther the cave goes when suddenly, a low, familiar, defensive rumble sounds behind her. She whips around to look at Prince, confused. His orange eyes glow subtly in the darkness, his lips pulled back to show shiny, jagged teeth. He doesnt acknowledge her look, locked onto something above and ahead.

She follows his gaze.

She gasps.

There, fifty feet in the air, were two giant, glowing blue moons.

Eyes.

A chill runs through her.

"You here to finish me off?"

His voice was a deep rumble, emitting from his great heights and reaching her very core.

Her eyes widened in horror. "N-no! No, of course not!" she stammered hurriedly, then she turned on her heel to shout. "Prince, stop growling!" Her hands flailed, desperation painted on her panicked face.

Prince glances down at her with furrowed eyebrows. He then glares back up at the Nosferatu. After a moment, he silences.

Annora's heart hammers as she turns again, staring up at the very same Nosferatu.

The shadows clung to him like a second skin, making it difficult to discern his features. Still, she could tell he was scowling—she could also tell he was utterly massive.

A giant felt too light a term. He made the cave feel miniature, his form spanning so far and so wide she couldn't discern what was the cave, and what was him.

She could make a loose guess at certain things, like that he seemed to be sitting down. Or that his presumed knee was propped up right in front of them, towering above like a thick, sturdy full grown tree.

But everything else remained a mystery, and the sheer awe of him triggered something deep and primal within her.

"...If you're not here to fight," his deep voice makes her leap, "why are you here?"

Annora's eyes widen.

For a breath, she forgets all about her instinctual fear. Instead, her mind flashes to a number.

Seven hundred and twenty-nine.

A marking she knows far too well.

Her shoulders slump, and her hands fall at her sides.

Seven hundred and twenty-nine...a number, though large, could never hope to encapsulate the magnitude of loss.

Because for seven hundred and twenty-nine days, she had spun in her little lonely orbit, going round and round in endless circles, searching for answers that were never there. Desperately picking apart the bread crumbs of her mind, only to remain starved.

Lost with the one thing every person was found with.

That every person took for granted.

Her voice chokes up. Suddenly swelling within her is a great tirade of impossible emotions—the invisible weight upon her back so quickly she nearly crumples.

She blinks, looks down, and stares at her boots.

A speech came to mind. One she had repeated hundreds of times, just for this very moment—She grasps firmly at the rehearsals.

"I..." she starts, her voice weak, wobbly, and desperate all the same. "I don't remember— I mean, I have—” She clamps her mouth shut and swallows, heavy and slow. Lost days, weeks, months, years, it all cascades and she fights to move her lips past them, “...I have severe, long-lasting amnesia...My memory only spans the last two years, give or take a few days." She fumbles with her blouse, pinching the fabric between her fingertips and rolling it. "I have no records. I have no relatives, and my bloodline isn't in the Rings." She pauses, remembering William's face as he looked over her results. Her stomach churns. "I may as well not exist." She mumbles.

The Nosferatu watches her in silence.

"When you and I met..." Annora's hands shook. "In the field, during the fight, you said..." She could hardly get out the words. "—You said the word Annora." She strained. "You said...my name."

She presses a hand to her chest. Her heart was pounding so hard, it was practically breaking out of her ribs.

"No one—no one else has ever known my name. You are the first..." she trailed off, her eyes burning. "You are the first person to know me.”

Annora finally looks up. Her eyes were teary, but no tears had fallen.

“...I was hoping that...you could tell me more."

Silence permeated the space—her words a sponge that absorbed every sound, the confession now sitting suffocating between them.

The beast's scowl softens.

His hawkish gaze lowered, settling instead on his hands hidden in the shadows. A heavy somberness falls over his features, blanketing him.

He shakes his head softly, shutting his glowing eyes. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe." He shifts to lean back further.

"I don't have what you want, so just..." he trails off, "Go home," He finalized.

Though there was no physical door between them, Annora felt the force of it slamming against her face.

And still…her eyes were wide with awe.

A Nosferatu warning a human? She hadn't even thought something like that was possible! Then again, she didn't think holding a conversation with one was possible either.

He really was different.

This revelation propels her, and she raises her voice. "I-I can't leave!" Annora shouts, desperation cracking her words.

There is no reply.

Her shoulders stiffen. Her skin felt hot, and tingly, like she was primed to leap right out of it. She steps forward, pressing a hand over her pounding heart. "I-I am more than aware of the dangers." Her voice was meek, yet declarative. “But this is far more important than any sense of safety—!"

"You don't have any sense!” he suddenly snaps.

Annora jolts, mouth glued shut.

"You are a human.” He hisses, “Who very stupidly—" He opens his eyes, locking onto her with such intensity she feels faint. "—and naively thinks that I am different," he stops and looks down at himself. He clenches his jaw.

He takes in a deep breath, before blowing it out from his nostrils.

"...you’re wrong."

A hand suddenly bursts from the shadows and crashes to the ground, fingers like columns and skin like copper. The whole world is tossed and Annora yelps, nearly thrown off her feet by the sheer force of the quake. Rocks are knocked loose and sent falling from the cave's ceiling, crashing to the ground all around her in grey rain. Prince rushes to stand over her and

Annora's chest heaves, beads of sweat falling down her forehead. She stares at the monstrous, towering hand. His thumb alone was the entire length of her body. His clawed, black nail the size of her torso. The mere five feet distance between had been the only barrier between her and death's door.

Prince's ears flatten, rocks rolling off his hair raised back. He lets out an angry snarl, the white of his eye turning black. He was about to pounce when Annora quietly grabbed the fur attached to his front left leg, her fingers shook. "Don't." She whispers, terror clinging to her tone.

If William Charlemagne couldn't take down the Nosferatu, then Prince would have no chance. She didn't want to give the beast any more reason to attack.

"For all you know, I could have said your name just to lure you here…" He snarls, the behemoth's whole body now leaned over the both of them, "Knowing you would come and I would have an easy meal," His voice was like gravel grinding against her nerves.

Prince barks, the loud, angry noise echoing in the cave. He didn't pull his leg from Annora's hand, but she could tell he wanted to.

The Nosferatu glanced at Prince for only a moment before refocusing on her. "Your mutt has the right idea—you should listen and leave." He gave a purposeful snarl, his fangs flashing.

Annora's vision tunnels on his teeth. Just one, white canine was bigger than her entire head.

Prince's snarling intensifies—she doesn't hear him. Her mind is too busy drawing a hundred ways the Nosferatu could kill her—crushing, gnashing, pulling—each one somehow more painful than the last.

Her legs move automatically, and her gaze snaps to the exit.

Golden hour was nearly extinguished—but the light was still there, just beyond the cave's border. Her chest heaves, body willing her to run before it's snuffed out.

Yet, she remains rooted in place.

Prince was snarling, the noise was snaking all around her, reminding her with every echo of the true terror right behind her.

But…

Death...could it be any more painful than never being alive?

The question rattles around in her mind, screaming over and over in a loop, somehow drowning out the noises of everything else.

She bites her lip at the setting sun, the trees softly swaying in the warm wind. The gentle lull of life as she knew it, welcoming her back. Of fake last names and concealed loss. Of never truly knowing…and never truly being known.

She squeezes her eyes shut.

Annora takes a deep breath, forcing air into her tight windpipe. Her shaky palms curl into fists and she doesn't turn. But she does speak.

"W-well, if that's true...” her voice is small and meek. She swallows, her heart pounding in her ears. “...Then why did you not kill me before?" She strains—accompanied by Prince's low, angry rumbling.

The Nosferatu does not respond.

She chews her lip at the silence, taking in a shaky breath.

"And why didn’t you kill William?” she adds, her eyes opening. “Or anyone else for that matter?"

She lifts a trembling hand to Prince, silently asking for quiet. But he doesn't listen.

Annora turns her gaze to the wolf, green eyes somehow firm.

Prince falters. He struggles to rationalize her thinking, staring at her for a long time.

He then shuts his eyes.

He shakes his head softly in disapproval and then turns to glare at the monster looming above them. Silent.

Annora bites her lip.

She turns her eyes to face the Nosferatu again, his pupils reflecting her pale features. In the echo, she sees fear... but she's not sure it's all hers.

She gathers herself and stands taller. Lifting and locking eye contact with his shadowed eyes.

"...I don't think you're as scary as you're trying to make yourself seem."

The Nosferatus diamond-shaped pupils narrow.

Annora stared back at him like he was a cliff, her feet on the very ledge. It's difficult to breathe and her body trembles—but she still takes a step forward.

A tense beat passes, silence permeating the space.

His throat releases a quiet, rumbling growl, the corner of his mouth turning downwards into a snarl.

Then, to her shock…he closes his eyes.

He huffs, his breath blowing back her bangs. She catches the scent of alcohol and wrinkles her nose. Slowly, the Nosferatu recoils, the titan re-entering the black sky he had descended from. He lifts his hand from the floor, bits of rubble falling from his skin to the ground.

Surprisingly, the ground he had slammed lacked an imprint.

"...I don't have the energy to answer your questions—Just go."

Annora breathed out.

And then her knees nearly give.

She wobbles and clutches her chest, collapsing on her shaking legs. The blood rushing in her ears drums, and her pounding heart finally slows. Her ragged lungs take in big, greedy gulps of air, like she had just been drowning in the ocean and barely just managed to surface. Prince lets out a heated breath. The soft rustle of fur indicates he has sat, though his warmth was just as close.

Annora wipes the sweat from her forehead. “Oh my gods…” she murmurs shakily. She didnt know how, but she was still breathing.

She closes her eyes, just swallowing breath after breath, before slowly looking up.

She grimaces.

"...Y-you're ankle...you were injured, right?"

Her shaky voice draws back the Nosferatus gaze. He's quiet for a beat. She breathes out and stands.

"If I help heal your wound…” she wrings her hands together, wincing as she spoke again, “will you answer my questions?"

He blinks, taken aback, before furrowing his eyebrows, "...You would help a monster, just for answers?" He squints, "You do realize I could go on a rampage, right?"

Annora blinks and takes a moment to consider him.

His actions, his words. She looks down and fiddles with her fingers, piecing him together in her mind like he was just another research subject.

She chews her lip, “This is the, uhm, third time you could have k-killed me.” She clears her throat uncomfortably. “Uh, o-one time is lucky and um, twice is a coincidence…but three times…” she trails off and shakes her head softly. "...You... don't attack indiscriminately." She states tensely, "A-and I don't think I would be endangering anyone by helping you." She swallows another helping of courage.

"So...yes. I would."

He stares at her evenly, confusion and something else stirring in the blue pools of his eyes. He shakes his head in frustration, grasping his lower jaw with his hand. He grumbles something beneath his breath, before finally,

"...Fine."

He lets out a begrudging sigh, "I'll answer your questions." He glares at her, "But after, you leave immediately, and you don't come back. Ever. Do you understand?"

Annora's eyes widened.

For just a second, she forgot where she was and who she was speaking to.

Endorphins flood her, and she can practically taste it. The nearness of her heart's greatest desire, right at her fingertips. Her cheeks flush, and elation shoves fear out; both her hands shoot up in celebration, smile wide and bright.

"Yes!”

The Nosferatu stares, wide-eyed at her, his hand lowering ever so slightly from his slackened jaw.

Her excitement is immediately doused.

She steps back and stumbles, her arms flailing as she covers her face, shrinking, “I-I mean, yes…Thank you,” she squeaks.

His eyebrow twitches.

The Nosferatu lets out a "tsk" and looks pointedly away from her.

Annora tenses and hastily turns to look up at Prince. "L-lets go gather some firewood! I'll need a good amount of light to assess the damage—”

Prince simply nods.

Annora nervously glanced back at the Nosferatu, "Right then, we'll be right back, Mr—" she gasps. "Ah! W-wait, I forgot to ask..." she coughs into her hand nervously and then forces a smile. "Uhm— What is your name?"

The Nosferatu whips his head to look back at her, eyes wide like saucers. He stalls for a long moment, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"...Fugi."

He finally states, his voice tense.

Annora falters, perceiving his behavior as a continued display of displeasure. She gulps, looking to her side as she tries to come up with an olive branch of sorts. Usually she would just need to compliment his ancestors...but, he didnt give her a last name. So there was no bloodline to honor. "N-no last name huh—?” She flounders, “St-still, that's a pretty swell name! Fugi." She emphasizes with a strained smile.

The awkward silence makes her want to run—she mentally scrambles for something. Anything to say.

Finally, she thought of something.

"Its quite unforgettable!" She squeaks with a stiff nod.

Fugi’s pointed ears lowered and his eyes widened—for a second, he almost looked hurt.

His expression then suddenly hardened, like she had slapped him. A dark, indiscernible shadow falls over his eyes, and he clenches his jaw shut, turning his face away.

Annora’s smile cracks, and she turns hastily, marching towards the exit of the cave. "A-anyways I'll be back, Mr. Fugi!" She calls over her shoulder, quickly walking as Prince stalks beside her. The giant wolf's muscles were still tense, one fluffy ear angled towards her, the other angled towards Fugi.

After they had some distance from Fugi, Annora looked anxiously at Prince.

"Do you think I said something wrong?" She whispers up to him, frowning.

Prince's ear twitches, and he glances down at her. He merely lets out a little huff before he lifts his head again.

Annora sighs softly.

~

Upon returning, the Nosferatu was exactly where he had been prior; even his scowl was the same. Annora couldn't help but wonder if that was just his permanent expression.

Annora grimaced as she lugged an armful of large branches right to the start of Fugi’s form. Prince follows closely behind her.

She lets the wood drop with a clatter, only giving about a five-foot distance between Fugis's right foot and the wood. Prince then lowers a massive log right next to her meager pile, dwarfing her efforts. He takes a few strides back, ensuring a safe, five-foot distance from the log. He sits, watching Fugi evenly.

Fugi, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow at the strange combination, watching as Annora reaches into her cloak.

She glances at him before anxiously looking away, her lips pursed. She stares intently at her leather satchel, lifting the flap and sorting through its many compartments.

The silence was so loud.

"Y-you know,’ she starts with a stutter, “it's been a long time since I've had to make a bonfire…" She closes another mini flap; her hands shake as she moves onto the next. "Nowadays, when I come out, it's always in the mornings—So I don't really need light." She chuckles tensely, pulling out a small vial of green liquid.

Fugi's eyebrows furrow, his scowl somehow deepening. "...You leave the walls frequently?"

"O-oh yeah!” She perks up at his reception, her smile widening—she had missed his scowl. “Almost every morning, in fact, there's a lot of different vegetation I harvest from the Moores,"

She uncorks the bottle and splatters the green liquid over the massive log.

Fugi presses a hand to his forehead, subtly glaring at Prince. "You let her do that??"

Prince glares right back, letting out an angry snarl before he glances briefly at Annora. He sighs.

Annora flushes. She quickly bends down and snatches two sticks. Then she stands, shooting Fugi a weak glare. "H-hey! Prince and I used to live in the forest, you know—for a whole year!" She frowns as she turns to place one stick flat on the large log. She presses the other twig to the middle of the stick. "We survived just fine...I'm quite adept, you know." She holds her palms on either side of the wood, then rubs her hands back and forth, creating friction against the lying branch.

Her well-practiced hands brought forth smoke almost immediately.

Fugi furrows his brows, "Why can't you just grow them in the walls?"

"It's illegal to grow our own crops." She states, before looking to her side, smiling nervously, "th-though I do still have a few things in secret...I can't find everything in the Moores'. Annora leans her head down, cupping her hands around the new, tiny embers. She blew softly, watching as the sparks inhaled her oxygen and grew.

The fire suddenly burst forth, flame erupting on the splatters of green liquid like gasoline—catching her off guard. She lets out a yelp, mid-motion of raising her hands to her face, when something the size of a train car rushes in front of her with a whoosh. Her hair, dress, and cloak whip in response, wind cool on her skin.

She felt not even a touch of heat as she stared wide-eyed at Fugis open, scarred hand, his palm facing the flaming log.

And just as suddenly as his hand moved to catch the flying embers, she heard a snarl.

Prince's massive form came flying in from her right, and Annora barely had any time to stop his jaws from igniting a fight.

"NO!" She yells, darting forward to plant herself right in front of the massive wolf.

She's knocked off her feet by the force of his front leg meeting her face, thrown onto the ground with a thud. Prince's attention immediately cuts, his orange eyes widening in horror. He stops mid charge and rushes to her. He lowers his large snout, sniffing her shaky form.

Annora groans, slowly lifting her head up from the dirty floor. She looks right at Prince, grimacing.

Warm, red runs down her nose.

Prince recoils like he had been slapped, his round, diamond pupils now slits that kept flicking from her eyes, to her nose. He shakes his head once, then twice, his jaw opening before he quickly snaps it closed.

Annora lifts her hand to her face, confused by it all. Prince flinches and takes a slow, measured step back, his eyes locked onto her with something that almost looked like hunger.

When she pulls her hand back, she sees scarlet dotting her pale fingers.

Suddenly, she cannot breathe.

Her muscles are stiff as she slaps a hand over her pale face, desperately trying to suppress the scent of iron leaking from her nose. Slowly, shakily, she turns to look to her left.

With the bonfire raging, she could see him now.

All of him.

Fugi was somehow more massive when fully lit up, his limbs and torso like skyscrapers and a four story building.

He had moved the hand that had protected her to his nose and mouth, his nails digging so hard into his skin that it looked painful. His blue eyes were locked onto her with the same predatory intensity as Prince's, his pupils dilated into slits.

He was trying to move back, but his form had already been pressed to the cave's wall, so there wasn't much movement.

Annora's pounding heart beat flooded her ears as her gaze swapped back to Prince. He was still walking backwards as he shook his head again, scratching desperately at his nose, his shut maw dripping with saliva—eyes wide with horror and hunger.

She was still, but her mind raced.

If she got up and tried to run, she would trigger the prey drive of both of them. Even if she were to somehow dodge Fugi's attack, she wouldn't be able to outrun Prince.

Annora's pupils lowered to her waist satchel, sweat dripping down her forehead.

Maybe she could cover the scent? She had her mask. If she just put it on, she could suppress the trigger.

But to do that, she would need to move... and she was frozen.

Annora's panic sharpens when she hears a low growling. She snaps her head to look to her left, half expecting to see Fugis clawed hand swiping at her.

"Your medicine—" he nearly snarls, his tone strained. "—Does it hurt?"

Annora has difficulty hearing his question over the sound of her own heartbeat. She can only manage a shaky nod in response.

"Then. do. it. Right now."

Something in his voice snapped her cold muscles into motion.

She doesn't question his demand, knowing disobedience may stir up a quick bloody death. She leaps to her feet, stumbling around the firelight and towards his foot. The movement is too much for Prince. The massive wolf forces himself to turn, digging his paws into the ground and hurriedly running away. His stride was loud, echoing in frantic beats.

From the corner of her eye she watches his run, the wolfs absence twisting her heart.

She was alone.

Refocusing on the task at hand, she stops in front of the end of Fugis pant leg, staring up at the towering mass. The fabric covered his ankle, but she could still smell the very pungent scent of iron—and acid?

She latches both of her hands onto the wide pant leg, small fingers struggling to find a place to hold. Then, with all her strength, she pulls to her right. But just as it starts to move, her fingers slip, and she stumbles back.

"What's taking so long—???" Fugi grates, his nails digging harder into his flesh, now drawing trickles of blood.

Her heart flips, "I-Im trying!"

Annora tries again, grunting.

But the fabric is too thick and heavy. She can't get a good grip on the edge, even with her nails digging in.

She slips again, stumbling over her feet.

"Darn it!" She hisses.

She casts a side glance at the Nosferatu.

If Fugi were in his right mind, she would have asked him to just move it himself...but she didn't want to risk his hand anywhere near her.

And from how Fugi's cheek was bleeding...he seemed to have the same feelings.

She grits her teeth in frustration and turns to glare back at the immovable object.

Annora flips open her waist satchel and fishes inside. She pulls out a container of recycled glass. Within its walls was a blue gel—she named it Sundew Glue.

She hastily dabs her right fingertips to her tongue before dunking them into the substance.

She shuts the lid tight with her left hand and shoves it back into her satchel, grabbing at the pant leg once again. Her sticky fingertips lock into place with the fabrics inner wall, gel sinking deep and gripping.

She grunts as she pulls again, using both her sticky hand and her non-sticky hand to force the fabric to shift, angling her entire body as she takes one big step back after another.

Her arms tremble as finally, it passes his ankle.

The substance had dried now, allowing her to slip her previously wet fingers right out, leaving the casts of her fingerprints on the pants' inner side.

She takes a step back, letting out little pants as she looks up—and is greeted with utter horror.

A white achilles tendon with holes rests before her, hanging in the middle of black, molten flesh, blood, and what looked like tar covering every inch of the remaining skin. Melted bandages slump to the open floor, stained with black and red.

Her eyes widened, taking in the picture of what could look like rotting tissue, but life was present, signified by the fresh blood dripping down its jagged side.

Then the smell hits her.

Acid, mixed with the scent of dead flesh, permeates the air around her. Her nostrils burn, and she's forced to take a step back, grimacing.

"I-I don't understand—I thought your species had rapidly regenerative tissue? How come—how come this looks like it just happened??" She breathes out in horror, reaching for her pouch.

Fugi grits his teeth and growls, voice rising, "I don't know. Just hurry up!!"

Annora nearly falls over at the tone of his voice, fumbling with her shaky hands as she grabs at a small, flat, black piece of plastic. Quickly she presses its side. The plastic unfolds within her hand, quickly expanding into a mask with a long beak at the front. She holds it up and snaps the back strap over the back of her head, adjusting the front goggles over her eyes. She then pulls out a pair of black latex gloves and a large, round container.

Annora unseals the lid and reaches a finger into the translucent ointment. She takes out a big glob of the clear goop before she slathers the ointment over her two gloved hands, evenly covering them.

She looks up and hesitates.

The pain...would it trigger his prey instinct?

She swallows. And all she can do is push forward.

Her hands come into contact with the seared flesh of his wound, and immediately his leg jolts—not enough to knock her down, but still, she flinches, jumping back.

She lifts her hands up in the air, mouth dry, as she stiffly turns to look at him.

He groans, pushing his taut hand harder into his skin, agony echoing as he grits his teeth together. She could see his fangs glinting in the firelight.

Her knees feel wobbly.

"What'd you stop for—?" He hisses through closed teeth, "keep goin'. It's distracting."

Annora's eyes suddenly widened.

Distracting...?

Was he trying to get distracted?

From...

Her hand trails to her masked face, her chest squeezing.

She was right. She was right about him!

Annora's eyebrows furrow.

Now that the scent was suppressed, she should focus on being the best distraction!

She steps forward again and, with less hesitation, presses her hands to his skin.

He flinches, but it's less this time—he was already getting used to it.

"Whatever chemical they used looks and smells like it's highly erosive—!" Annora suddenly shouts as she smears the ointment, "If it weren't for the fact your cells so rapidly regenerate, I think this whole foot would be gone by now—even your bones are spilling out with calcium—".

Fugi lets out a short groan. He opens one eye to peer at her, "Why are you talking right now—?" He grits out.

"B-because talking is distracting too! And I can talk a lot!" Efficiently but gently, she spreads the ointment across his black-stained skin, her fingers coursing through frayed nerves and char. She can feel the heat of both his flesh and the acidic chemical, quietly hoping her gloves will hold up against the component.

She covered about a foot before needing to redip, evenly coating her hands with the healing agent to resume work. "Considering every time your nerves regenerate they're seared again—I'm amazed you're awake right now," She furrows her eyebrows, voice wavering with sympathy, "...Most people would have fallen unconscious at this level of pain."

Fugi’s left ear flicks, and he grimaces down at her. "Is that supposed to be reassuring...?"

Annora flushes. "O-oh! No, uhm, I mean, it means you're strong, but—Oh, I don't know Im just trying to help—!" She clams up, pursing her lips together.

Fugi frowns, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. The space is quiet and Annora is left to stew in her own embarrassment, wishing she had something of substance to say.

"...What is that stuff anyways?" He mumurs, voice gruff.

Annora's eyes widened.

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, her motion stalling for a second, before she quickly refocuses on the procedure.

"I-it's a multi-purpose healing agent—! It disinfects, soothes, and seals a wound. All at once." She can't help but feel a little proud. "...My own personal creation."

Fugi’s tense face slackens ever so slightly, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"...You made that?"

Annora nods stiffly, breathing a little easier. "I did—It's one of my greatest achievements—though currently it's still in the beginning phases."

Fugi blinks, slow. "...Was it hard to make?"

Annora glances at him for a moment of surprise before she nods softly,

"...It certainly wasn't easy." She lets out a soft breath, "But I needed something more streamlined—something that could seal, disinfect, and heal, all at once." Her hands work smoothly, gliding in practiced motions.

"Prince and I combed the forest day in and day out—it took me months to find the right plants." She smiles. "Then I had to break them down, and that was a whole other challenge, but I did it."

She could feel Fugi’s eyes on her, watching her every motion like a hawk. But his pupils had widened now, no longer hungry slits. He looked less like a predator...and maybe more like a man.

"You really just never give up. Do you?"

Annora blinks and looks up at him.

His hand had now lowered, resting on his knee. The scratches on his cheek were starting to heal, too, the skin pinkish rather than angry red.

She tilts her head in thought before smiling beneath the mask. "No, I don't."

The "distraction" seemed to be working for both of them.

About three minutes had passed in a comfortable silence when Annora moved to draw out more ointment, eyes still focused on the wound. But all her fingers scrape against the glass. Confused, she looks down.

"Oh no, I'm out!" she blurts, panic cracking her voice as she stares at the wound, dread twisting inside her.

There was still so much left to cover—she had only been able to coat five feet! The majority of the painful injury remained exposed. She desperately pulls off her gloves, throwing them to the ground and shoving her hands into her satchel. Ignoring the burning feelings on her fingertips, she searches without finding, begging for another container to appear.

“It feels better.” The prior strain in Fugi's voice had been lost, replaced by a controlled, calm tone.

Annora keeps her eyes glued to her bag as she unbuckles the straps around her waist. She kneels down and turns the bag over, shaking it out near the ground. Numerous bottles, boxes, and slips all fall out, tapping softly against the stone. Shaking it one last time for good measure, she leans down and sifts through her creations and ingredients. "I-I can make more! I can do more just–"

“Annora, it's ok.”

Her hand freezes above a bottle. For a moment, she is utterly still, tension shivering through her. Then slowly, she looks up at him.

Somehow, even with the mask on, he could still see her big wobbly eyes.

Fugi shakes his head softly, reaching his hand to his pant cuff and tugging it down to cover his ankle. “Don't worry.” He comments, before leaning back again, “I’ll uphold my end of the deal.”

Annora's eyes widen in distress. "Th-that's not! That's not what I was worried about—!" she stammers as she fumbles for words, her gaze darting to his ankle, now hidden by his pant leg.

"No creature should suffer…"

Fugi is quiet for a beat.

"...Yeah, you were always saying stuff like that."

Annoras breathes stop. Slowly, she pans her head to look at him.

Fugi was staring at the caves entrance, his blue eyes soft and wistful, like he was somewhere distant, somewhere she didn't know.

"You always said things like, 'bugs shouldn't be squished,' even when they ate crops, or 'a plants' feelings matter,' even when cacti pricked us." His lips twitch; not quite a smile, but warm.

Annora slowly moves to sit on the cold, hard cave floor, utterly captivated.

"You always said the weirdest crap. But, you knew how to treat cuts pretty well...so I figured it'd be ok if you stuck around."

He leans his head back, his gaze set on anything but her wide, listening face.

"...You remained a mystery, though. Never talked about your dad, or mom, or siblings. And you would ask me these things—stuff like if I would ever forget you, or if I could turn into a wolf.” He shakes his head, breathing out in faint amusement. “Nothing normal ever came out of that mouth of yours."

He chose then to stare at the cave's entrance. With his high vantage point, it was of no difficulty to peer out at the last bits of golden sunlight, watching as they gradually were swallowed by purple, then blue. "I didn't know how to respond,” he murmurs, “Still don't.”

He pauses for a breath, his eyebrows dipping ever so slightly, “...What could have been running in that head of yours?" he murmurs.

He is silent, eyes fixed on the newly fallen darkness. Despite the blazing fire at his foot, a chill seeps into the cave and into his bones. The silence lets raw feelings and old memories seep in, and his gentle features slowly cloud over with shadow.

"... Despite seeing you almost every week for years...I never really knew you." He pauses, the length long and heavy.

"and now...you don't know me."

He finally looks at her, his ocean eyes hard and cold. Frozen over like a lake of ice.

Yet, all she can do in response is melt.

Her shoulders slump as she draws a shaky, almost reverent breath, so awestruck she can barely move. Her heart aches with the new weight of his words. So she had always loved plants and bugs, and she had always been awkward when talking.

She had existed.

"...I don't know what to say." She lifts her hand to her bangs, breathless. "I always thought, that everyone who knew I existed, left to some faraway place. Someplace I could never reach."

She lets out a choked-up laugh, her eyes burning. "But I was wrong. They weren't all gone." She looks up at Fugi, her eyes watering.

"Thank you. Thank you. I don't know how I could possibly ever convey how grateful I am—"

"Don't." Fugi shuts her down, looking to his side. "Don't convey shit—just go home."

Annora's smile cracks at his sudden shutdown. She lowers her face, staring at the pink marks burned into her fingertips and palms. She swallows. Slowly, she gets up from the floor, her dress shifting softly with the motion. She wrings her hands together, fiddling with her stinging fingertips.

"Still I'm...glad," she pauses, before looking back up at him, "to have met you."

"You agreed to leave. Stop stalling."

Annora chews her lip and glances behind her. Prince is nowhere to be seen—he must have run outside. Her eyes trail hesitantly to the cave exit. The sun had fully set now, twinkling stars somehow still shining in the bleak dark. She frowns. Casting one last look over her shoulder, her green eyes searched his face. Though she didn't know if it was him or her she was questioning.

She then walks away, her hands clung in front of her.

Fugi watches her go, the echoes of her footsteps making his ear twitch. Her absence became louder, and the shadows darker. He shuts his eyes, letting his mind drift. A small, wispy, sweet voice speaks from the back of his mind, words burned into his soul.

“Fugi…will we always be friends?”

His face drops into his trembling hands, and he remains hunched in the shadows, silent.

-----

O no he has negative rizz :(