Forty Years of This [Monster Hunter World]

Chapter 2

Struggling against the ocean had been useless. With one arm wrapped under the man's chest and the other clinging to the float, the Commander was powerless to do anything but survive. In the distance, he saw the ship crest a massive wave and slam into the rocks. He did not see it rise again.

The man in his arms had gone still, almost limp, seemingly in resignation. When the Commander finally recognized the white mop of hair, he didn't stop to think about it. He would not regret throwing his life away in an attempt to save one of the less personable members of the crew. He would not allow himself to regret it.

The ocean threw them to the submerged land, and when it withdrew, they were stranded in the wrath of a hurricane. The Commander groaned as he heaved himself from the strewn branches and mud with the wind howling and the rain pelting them. The Quartermaster, quiet and limping, grabbed the Commander's wrist and jerked his head uphill. With a nod, they began scrambling to escape the fury of another wave.

They found brief sanctuary not on solid ground but on a network of thick vines that resembled a road. The Commander had paled when he heard the Quartermaster scream, as he slipped on the wet vines. He caught the man and hefted him onto his shoulder before stopping and hiding away from the rain at their first opportunity.

He looked over the Quartermaster-- his immaculate appearance destroyed and disheveled like a wet cat. The man grimaced at him with his teeth bared like an animal.

"I don't know if it's a sprain or a break," the Commander began to say while looking over the Quartermaster's leg.

"Calf. Break or fracture. Not the first time. Not the last." The Quartermaster inhaled sharply before glaring at the Commander. If his resting glare could freeze sunlight, his glare now could pierce the soul. "Throw. Don't go."

"What?" The Commander bristled. The logical part of him suspected that the Quartermaster was just in pain, but the emotional part of him took offense to the look.

"Why did you jump in? Throw. Don't go."

"Now is not the time to question my actions. You would be dead or alone out here. Would you have rathered that?" The Quartermaster looked as though he was about to respond, but the Commander continued, intentionally cutting him off. "Stay as quiet as you can. I am going to scale one of these trees and see if I can spot the ship."

He left with his back straight, but the moment he was out of view, the Commander slumped against one of the towering trees. He would not let himself regret attempting to save a comrade, and that was not what bothered him. What so painfully struck him was how even before they'd reached the new world, the universe was fighting them. They were there to understand-- not to do harm. He wanted to do something good with his life, but already it seemed like he would struggle just to live.

With his bout of hopelessness done, he turned back towards the tree and began to climb its mighty trunk.

What he saw first was the beauty of the new world. Untouched wilderness for miles around. Creatures singing in the canopy, beasts darting in and out among the branches, waterways, shear and brutal mountains. For a moment, he forgot everything. The man below. His fears. His hopes. His duty. Until he saw the ship, the Celestial Pursuit, cradled between two peaks of a split mountain. His mouth fell open in wonder, but at least now they had a destination.

As he clambered down the tree, several man-sized drakes flew by and occasionally paused to look at him. One clung to the tree above him, extended its neck, and sniffed his hair. The Commander reached out on a whim, but before he could touch the creature, it squawked and flew off. When he finally reached the network of vines and the small hide-away where he left the Quartermaster, he saw the man sitting, eyes closed, with thousands of tiny glowing bugs resting on him.

"They're not biting." The Quartermaster slowly turned his head, and with it, the little bugs flocked to the Commander. "They seem harmless."

Perturbed, the Commander grabbed a rock and chucked it, hoping that the bugs would follow it instead, and to his initial relief, they fled from him and collected around the rock... but only to return to both himself and the Quartermaster.

"Did you have any luck..?" The Quartermaster's voice, so sharp and cutting before, was soft. His glare had faded.

"I did-- and I might have an idea or two how to get back. But before that," the Commander looked down to the man still decorated with fire flies. "We need to get you walking. Can you braid a rope?"

A simple splint made of two straight branches and braided vines. The Quartermaster walked with an arm slung over the Commander's shoulders while the little glowing flies danced in front of them seemingly leading them to the wreck.

"My name is ████████. You may call me that, if you wish."

The Commander took his eyes off of the trail to look up to the Quartermaster with a lopsided grin.

"I might just. ████████." He chuckled. The name was as stiff as the man. "Well, ████████, my name is ████, but let's stick to our titles when we regroup with the rest of the crew."

"Of course, Commander. I doubt anyone here appreciates structure as well as I do."

The Commander expected another stiff frown, but the Quartermaster looked at him with a sly grin and a crinkle in his eyes. For a brief moment, the Commander saw something warm in him.