World of Io

30. Thus I hate myself

Qumo didn't know how they managed to get out of that mess.  They hadn't seen a soul after they left those three lifeless bodies on the courtyard, un-cared for. He hated to leave the dead for the crows and rats but it was their only choice. He looked over his shoulder, thinking about that poor girl they had left behind. Her death had been so totally unnecessary. She had done nothing to deserve that fate. At least it had been quick. 

The sun was rising, bathing the world in a hazy light. They had ridden through the night, covering as much ground as possible, and they were getting tired. Qumo could see Vigilante nodding off now and then where she sat, perched on her mare. Fortunately they were getting closer to Wyvern, so soon they might find shelter, however, he didn't know if they were ready to enter. Milo was still unconscious, and it worried him. He hadn't hit him very hard at all, he shouldn't have been down for so long.

He adjusted his hold around the Nyx. Milo's weight was beginning to tire his arms but that was another thing he could not choose. His brows creased in thought. He didn't understand what had happened anymore than Vigilante: who hadn't spoken a word since they had left the courtyard. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on what. Or perhaps it was because nothing was right.

Something might be a bit of an understatement. What Milo had done was something he hadn't seen since the dark centuries.  That black mark around the girl's neck had produced a violent physical sensation inside and he had been hard-pressed to keep himself from throwing up. Memories of horrendous nature had overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes, forcing the thought away. He couldn't give in to those memories now. He couldn't think of Milo in that way. If he did, there was nothing to attach that last sliver of hope upon, and he couldn't afford to lose that. He couldn't afford to lose it again. If he did, he didn't think that he would be capable of keeping it together. He had lost too much, seen too much.

He looked over at Vigilante just as her expressionless face met the first beams of sunlight. He wondered what went on in there. He thought that he had pinpointed who she was, but now he didn't know. She had surprised him so many times during these last few days.

He knew that she loved Milo. Yes, Vigilante loved the dark Nyx, but he started to suspect that she was reluctant, and that was one of the things he didn't understand. Why didn't she allow herself to love him?

A groan awoke him from his thoughts. Milo stirred, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. No, he wouldn't be afraid, he wouldn't jump to conclusions. He had to know more before he... He sighed, and shoved the thought away. He didn't want to think it aloud. There was too much at stake.

"Milo?" he asked, hoping that the Nyx was coming back to his senses.

The Nyx stirred some more, then it seemed like he jolted back to life, regaining some of his strength. The Nyx thrashed around, and he was close to losing his grip. 

"Calm down Milo, I'm holding you in the saddle."

The movements ceased instantly.

"What happened?" Milo asked, his voice groggy. He wasn't fully back yet.

"You don't remember?"

-----

A pounding headache held his mind hostage. He couldn't think. Why wasn't he on his own horse? And sleeping in Qumo's arms... He who rarely slept.

He cringed again, not comfortable with the feel of a body pressed up against his back. It didn't matter that it was Qumo, it still felt like an invasion.

The world slowly started to come into sharp focus, and vague memories -- almost intangible ones -- came back in faint waves. He couldn't make sense of it. He remembered a feeling, and that feeling was enough to make him realize that he had no wish to remember. He didn't want to know.