In Blackened Maws

ix // separation

The conversation Archer and Xena had wasn't very long, a few friendly but awkward notes, and a couple jokes on Archer's part, and then they were ready for some semblance of rest. It felt odd, being so nonchalant now about the potential danger Xena was, instead nestling beside the rags of his pack and huddling into his tee while Xena leapt up into the trees to stargaze.

Though he did feel comfortable, he still had trouble sleeping, his heart thumping at a pace bordering just slow enough for him not to sprint away.

He still cursed himself for speaking up about his parents at all. Sure, the two did bond, and he did feel a lot better about spending time with Xena as they'd make their way outside of the woods, but opening up like that? Internally, he knew it was a good thing. He honestly felt fantastic about it, after having nobody he could trust. Maybe, after getting out, he could still visit her sometimes, bring her some food, do everything friends are supposed to do. He could learn more about inks, maybe their old ancestral stories, and he could show her all that humans have done. Just the thought of actually having a friend made him feel all warm.

And while her ink nature was super cool and interesting, he still couldn't help the image that'd project itself into his mind when he pictured meeting Xena at the treeline. Expecting to see the goopy black humanoid with white x's, only to be staring head-first into blackened maws, teeth too sharp and legs too fast for him to run. If that wolf had run so quickly, if those hunks of scavenged meat were anything to go by, inks weren't anything to be messed with.

He needed to get his mind off the whole ordeal. Like Xena said before, he'd be leaving the accursed woods anyway, there was no need for him to get all jittery over his confessions. He sighed, shifting so he was looking upwards. He counted the bits of stars he could see through the trees above, sneaking peeks at those hidden behind leaves shaking in the wind, breathing deeply to speed the whole process up.

When he did finally get to sleep, his dreams were filled with trees and black and a flickering flame.

Archer woke up sometime before sunrise, which was strange for him. He was always a late sleeper, much to his grandparents' dismay, and not being jolted from his dreams by a morning sun was odd. He squinted in the darkness, still interrupted only by starlight and the distant glow of the sun turning the sky a lighter shade of blue, looking to see if anything had happened. A few turns one way and a few turns another yielded nothing, and so he thought nothing of it.

He was so caught up in the feelings of his dream that it took a bit for the dread to set in. When it did, though, Archer was up in a second.

Shaking the tiredness from his bones, Archer surveyed the makeshift campsite with wild eyes. The fire was still put out, and nothing had really been disturbed beside maybe a couple new leaves having fallen from up above, each a bit obscured by the darkness.

Each...

Archer swallowed, stalking over to the leaves with a soft trepidation. It was still dark, so it was hard to see exactly, but there was no way he could mistake the tiny flakes of deep midnight black on the leaves' very tips.

His head shot up immediately, and he scrambled back to the tree he'd been sleeping on as he looked up, searching for any sign of Xena. Inwardly, all that fear and dread from the night prior came bursting through. He shouldn't have- but she was so- she left, or turned- she said she wouldn't-

He couldn't see anything, and that was an issue. He didn't see any signs of the ink beyond those leaves. He wished he could feel relieved, but Xena wasn't exactly a klutz, she could be anywhere and he wouldn't know, wouldn't hear-

Archer knew he was hyperventilating when his head started getting all fuzzy. He stopped, shuddering in a much deeper inhale, and holding it as he look around one last time. With the exhale, he leaned up against the tree, feeling his eyes prick with tears he dared not shed.