In Blackened Maws

viii // starlight

The night went by slowly. Archer, true to his word, didn't sleep. He instead took the time catering to his wounds, using water from the river, and keeping near the fireplace as to will the slight breeze of nighttime air away. Thankfully, the bits of pack the wolf had left behind worked nicely as makeshift bandages. It did make his skin itch, but it was a lot better than nothing.

He made sure not to go near the river until the sun flitted through the trees, when he knew he had to. Packing up was easy, since everything he had remaining could fit in his pockets, but that didn't stop the dull thrum in the back of his chest, the nagging guilt in the back of his mind as he went to approach where he'd ordered Xena the night prior.

The tension was thick, but Xena didn't comment on it. She knew he needed her to guide him, so the conversation didn't stretch far beyond Xena mentioning that they'd have to camp at least once more before they reached anything manmade. Archer dreaded the idea, but he supposed he had no choice. Besides, it wasn't like he had to speak to her or anything, it'd be fine.

But it wasn't. In fact, it was incredibly awkward. Archer was starving, that was the first issue. Xena led him to a berry bush to take the edge off, but she didn't stop watching him as he scarfed down as many as he could.

In fact, Xena was acting strange, though not in the way an ink would. Despite his mind screaming at him not to, Archer still made some off-handed jokes, still tried to keep the silence at bay, and Xena varied from being all-too-invested in whatever he had to say to ignoring him completely.

He wasn't sure what to make of this new attitude, but before he really could, the sun was setting, his stomach was grumbling, and Xena was picking a spot for them to camp in. He'd gone to gather wood for a fire, and Xena was gathering meat. He felt more unnerved, knowing just how she could turn a rabbit into a hairless filet, but food was food, and he couldn't do much anything about it.

Archer had just deposited his wood in a vague approximation of a firepit and lit it when he saw Xena edge into the clearing. The fire took time to wind its way up the logs, but it did, and cast the clearing in an ominous lighting. Archer saw Xena flinch in the corner of his eye, felt the blood rush through his veins a bit quicker, but she made no other move.

Archer extended his hand, and the meat was placed delicately onto it. He pushed it onto a stick, roasting it, and watched as Xena moved beside a tree, eyes never leaving the flames as she did so.

Neither spoke as the meat cooked. Archer made sure his entire focus was on the fire and the food, never glancing at the black silhouette one bit, even though every bit of him wanted to strike up some conversation. He pretended he couldn't place why he felt so sick.

When the meat was finally done, Archer moved to take a bite when Xena stepped forward. He watched her carefully as she slowly approached the fire and looked at him overtop of it.

"I'd like for it to be put out now," she ordered.

Archer lifted a brow. "Huh?"

"Please."

Any irritation he had was instantly put out. He swallowed, gripping the stick tighter, and avoiding the crossed gaze so intently on him.

"Fine. Just don't...don't try anything," he said, voice fading near the end.

"I won't."

Archer took his time in dousing the flames in water, stomping out the rest accordingly. He could feel Xena watching him the entire time, and his stomach squirmed as she did. He wanted to think it akin to a predator watching its prey, but he found it far more difficult to compare her to a predator when a simple plea from her sounded so desperate, so human.