Not Like You (The Simian Forest Saga: Vol. I)

The Fracture [XXIX]

The sky had been dreary and grey all day, up until they had finally made it home. Cornelius was rushed to the Medicine tree, bleeding heavily from a stab wound he had been given during the heated clash, his limp obvious each time he would take a step across the village. The Shamans took good care of those who were hurt, and with Krissa there to help, things just felt right again. Slate spent most of the night after having the bullet in his shoulder removed, the process taking hours of excruciating pain and digging. Afterwards, in the waning hours of dusk, Slate stiffly submerged himself under the steady stream of brook-fed water, allowing the tumbling water to be cut off from its usual connection to the mouth of water below as it collided with the top of his head. He leaned his cranium back and embraced the icy cold. Slowly but surely, the crystalline flow turned a faint shade of ghastly rust; with the assistance of the ravenette he cared for so much, he gradually became clean, her hands working across his muscular frame, removing what she could. Her touch was so relaxing after such a long, horrible afternoon that he sighed deeply every now and then as she went along.

The glue-like gore that soaked his abdomen and arms washed away, disappearing over the pool's edge and falling into the trees below, landing out of sight within the valley. By time Krissa had finished up her job, her teeth were chattering and she herself had stains of garnet upon her hands that seemed to be ground into the lines of her hands and digits. Whether the blood had been from his limbs or from her own personal battles, he didn't know. He simply followed the young woman where ever she took him, walking numbly, deaf to those around him. He looked to her for guidance, for comfort, much like a child would from another female after losing his mother. An odd comparison when speaking about siblings, sure, but it had to be the closest connect he could make.

By time they were inside of the hut, the two curled up, each on their own moss-and-stick nest, the soft deer skins beneath and over top of them keeping them well-insulated for the long, cold night to come. They spent perhaps the span of a half an hour before he heard the pelts part on the other side of the room and felt the young woman's weight press into the other side of the bedding. His eyes, wide awake now, opened, finding her face only a few inches away, just as close as she had slept to him the evening after he had told her all about Koba's short and horrible story. It finally felt right, that night, as they entwined their hands and looked at one another, carefully studying each other's faces as if it would be the last time they would see each other. Krissa whispered to him something as they drifted off, something he hadn't caught.

They stretched out their limbs, pulling the hide back and preparing for the day to begin, when she stood, sighed, combed her hands through her hair and then laced her fingers together in order to cradle the back of her neck. "I'm proud of you," she groaned, arching her back and cracking it in a few places. Her slim head turned upon its joint to face him and he studied the swelling outline of her blackened eye, surrounded by a dark ring of violet and accented with the faintest shade of green and sickly yellow. It looked almost like some sort of grotesque form of war-paint. "For taking a stand. For doing what you did."

Slate, in response, simply grunted in his throat and walked to the entrance of their now-shared hut, listening to the faint call of a loon from the lake off in the distance. If it hadn't been him, it surely would have been someone else. The fact that Cornelius had left Pine to him had been both a privilege and a great burden, for as the evening before the battle would approach closer, he had found it harder and harder to get to sleep. 'It's over now,' he signed sorely, trying to ignore how his arm screamed in protest with each tiny movement. 'That's what matters.'

"Still," the raven beauty uttered, her voice low and soft in her throat. Her feet scuffled as she stepped closer, coming to hover beside him. Her hot breath reached the back of his uninjured shoulder and he felt her limbs snake around his waist, earning a slight prickle of heat that shot up his spine as she drew him close. Perhaps he had become desensitised from being alone and untouched for so long. Slate sighed, relaxing slightly at her touch and allowing his hand to snake up, caressing her own. "I'm sure it wasn't... easy."