"Thank you," Fenix replied, unconsciously fingering his necklace. It was technically a religious symbol, though to him it was as much a personal memento as a spiritual one. Not to mention it served another vital function, as well.

"I'll take one last look around before turning in." It wasn't paranoia that drove him, but a desire for introspection. He didn't like to let Mayako and Emma out of his sight most of the time; they didn't have the experience he did and were less able to defend themselves. He didn't hold that against him, but it meant the moments he got to himself were few and far between.

If there were no objections, he'd walk away and soon disappear into the darkness beyond the fire.

Mayako smiled. Just then, she remembered what it was like during a much simpler time, back when her parents were still alive, back before the Law, the Reapers, and Theleaus--when she attended church with her father and helped give everyone the hope they sought from religion. Fenix was not a religious man; he wasn't looking for hope in God. He wore a cross, but Mayako was good at reading religious values and beliefs. Fenix just wasn't the church going type, she could tell that much from every conversation she'd had with him thus far. She could tell he wouldn't take much stock in prayer, but the thought mattered to him at the very least. That's what reminded her of the simpler times. When a person was in danger, in the hospital, at war, or any of the sort--if you offered their family your prayers, it did not matter how non-religious they were: the sentiment was always appreciated.

"Okay," Mayako nodded, "I'll try to keep Emma from hogging the tent until you're back."

There were few things left in Emma Vaerbond that identified her age. Emotionally and mentally, she'd been all but stripped of the innocence of youth, and highly intelligent as she was, if she were to write letters of correspondence, she could be easily identified as someone twenty years older than she really was. In person, she had only a few traits left that indicated that she was, in fact, a twelve year old girl. Discounting her physique, the sort of ultra-metabolic scrawniness paired with the facade of stringent athleticism characteristic of an individual in their early teens, she had one particular habit that went otherwise unknown to anyone but the handful of people she'd ever shared the same bed with:

Emma Vaerbond was a cuddler. In her sleep, she'd cling to something, curl up to it, lay on it, and/or use it as a pillow. She was unconsciously attracted towards warm bodies and had a bad habit of clinging to them at night. It didn't take a trained psychologist to figure out that she used to have a collection of stuffed animals. And were she left unchecked and alone, this meant that a ninety-some pound girl would somehow occupy the entirety of a sleeping space made for three people all on her own.

And with that, Mayako got up and headed for the tent, herself.

It was only once he was well away from the campsite that Fenix allowed himself to sigh. What am I doing? He could hardly take care of himself right now, let alone a pair of young girls who'd hardly stepped foot out of their hometown before. Suddenly, every decision he made carried more weight, and he was second guessing himself constantly. The right supplies, the right path, the right timing, even...all things he'd taken for granted when traveling before, because his mentor ensured that very few challenges on the road posed a real threat.

Did you feel this way when you took me in, Zach? Back right after he'd lost his father, lost everything he ever knew--even if it wasn't much. He hadn't the will to take care of himself for a long time; how had he found the ability to do it?

And even if they reached the church safely, what then? Emma was almost certainly not going to just stay put, and Mayako was going to follow her--and even if she decided to stop, she had a home to go to, she had no reason to stay at the church. But he was unsure of his ability to hunt for treasure on his own, and while he didn't hold it against them, right now the girls were more of a liability than anything.

But at the same time, he didn't want to part with them. For all his worry, it gave him something to do. What terrified him more than anything, more than even dying, was the thought that there was no longer a place for him in this world. It was truly a unique paradox.

...And one he wasn't going to find an answer to simply moping around in the woods. If there was one genuine lesson he could take from his mentor, it was that nothing was solved if you didn't act. He turned around, deciding to head back. Maybe if he could get a good night's sleep his mood would improve.

It was then that ground under his feet gave way.

******

The roaring would echo through the woods back to the camp, and truthfully for miles around. Animals of all shapes and sizes, whether awake and hunting or gathering, or sleeping, scattered in all directions away from the disturbance. So much noise was created between this and the event itself that the yell of alarm was practically lost in the commotion.

Emma was out of the tent in no time at all. She may have been a clingy sleeper, but she rarely had a sleep so deep that a small commotion couldn't wake her. Back at the clinic, it actually took her weeks before she was able to not practically throw herself out of bed at the smallest sound of the clinic itself setting and adjusting, as all buildings did--and each time, she sincerely thought it was the man who mutilated her face coming back to cut her more. Not kill her, though. She'd have been slightly more welcoming of that.

She threw the front of the tent open and darted out by a foot--half her body still in the tent, the other half out. Her wooden sword was already in hand. She hadn't thrown any clothes on beyond her bedclothes, leaving her in little more than a loose flannel shirt that barely fit her (it was one of Fenix's shirts) and a pair of boy-shorts that were otherwise concealed by her shirt. Her attire mattered little to her, though. All that mattered was that she'd heard the bustle of animals all around them, an excess of it, in fact, and couldn't exactly explain why.

"E-- Emma?" Mayako asked from behind.

Mayako had been woken up by Emma lunging out of the tent, specifically because Emma had been holding onto her in the midst of sleep and using her chest as a slightly uncomfortable pillow (more uncomfortable for Emma, actually, who'd just wake up in the morning with horrible pains in her neck).

"What's wrong?" Mayako asked meekly when Emma said nothing.

Emma shook her head. "Stay put," was all she said, before stepping out of the tent and into the cold--a cold she wasn't exactly expecting, but didn't care enough about to return to the tent and throw on more clothes. She was a bit too concerned to take the risk of wasting time.

The sounds of animals could be heard: the swishing sound of foliage shaking as mammals ran by, away from what they could only assume was danger. The cries of birds filled the air as they took wing away from the source of the disturbance, to find a new perch to rest at for the night.

The source was not hard to see, even in the dark: not far away, a plume of dust could be seen rising above the treetops.

Emma was quick for her age--by no means faster or more agile when Fenix when he was at her best, but she could likely keep up with an average grown man about twice her size. Suffice it to say, when she caught on to the dust plume in the distance, Emma darted off into a full sprint, her wooden sword by her side and her body dipped down some to give her a slight edge on tripping, falling, or being hit by low hanging branches on the way.

Notably, the girl forget shoes or sandals, and was probably going to come out of this with the bottoms of her feet all cut up, as running barefoot through the woods was prone to doing. It was a good thing, then, that she didn't care too much, wasn't it?

Mayako poked her head out of the tent slowly, unsure of if she should really stay put or not. She'd been staying by Emma's side as often as humanly possible since she came to travel with them, partly afraid of Emma getting into a bad mental state again--something she hoped she could alleviate quickly if it ever started. But Emma said she should stay put--why? Danger?

In the end, Mayako stayed put, but she didn't go back to sleep. She had her eyes on Emma, and when Emma couldn't be seen anymore, the dust plume.

It would only take Emma a few minutes to reach the source of the dust plume; she was quick, and only the foliage that lay off the beaten path hindered her running--indeed, without shoes her feet and ankles were going to be lashed by underbrush.

As she drew nearer, however, a voice called out. "Stop!" Though raspy, the voice was unmistakably Fenix's.

The reason for his warning would quickly become apparent one way or another: a sudden drop was before Emma, and if she did not hear him or heed him quick enough, she would tumble right into it herself.

Running through the brush was painful for her feet, to be sure, but Emma neither noticed nor cared when she did notice. They were just scrapes, anyways . . .

All she needed to hear was someone say "stop." It scarcely mattered who. Just being noticed was cause enough for Emma to jab her left heel into the dirt and, without even the slightest grace, skid to a stop. She let out a small grunt when this had her hitting the ground with her hip, followed by a small gasp when her foot cleared an unexpected drop. Fortunately, by that point, she'd all but stopped. Unfortunately, her clothes and right leg were scuffed up as all hell, but whatever. Her leg could heal and the clothes weren't even hers. Mayako's pajama shorts and Fenix's flannel shirt? She had nothing to lose between those but modesty.

Emma tugged her shirt cuff out of a snag and crawled back, further away from the drop off. With that done, she tried to look down and see both how far the drop off was and just what was down there. Except for Fenix. She already knew he was down there.

"Fenix?" she called down the drop off, "What the hell are you doing?"

There was a fit of coughing before a reply could be formed; being at the source of the dust cloud had not been good for his lungs, among other things. "D-Digging for treasure," came the deadpan reply when he'd caught his breath.

Naturally, this wasn't true; in his current weakened state, Fenix would have been fortunate to break the ground at all, much less dig a sizable hole. And the hole was indeed sizable. It was ten or so feet deep, and Fenix sat at the bottom amidst some scattered ruble. The ground underneath him, though, was flat, and extended underground two directions.

Actually, it didn't look much like a hole at all, come to think of it. It looked more like Fenix had fallen into a hallway of some kind.

This would be difficult for Emma to make out,, however--chances were, she'd only see the top of a vague silhouette, and Fenix's distinctive red eyes staring up at her.

She could see . . . well, not much at all. From up here, she could tell that what was down there was not, in fact, a natural piece of geography, and at least some of it had been touched by man--specifically because she could see what looked like a dark expanse behind Fenix, but not much more than that. It was too dark and she was too high up to see much more than that. She was able to rationalize, though, that a dark expanse within a hole suggested a cave, however small, or some man-made influence.

"You fell into a hole, didn't you?" Emma asked, her tone sardonic and groggily mocking.

Here she was, afraid that some serious trouble was on the horizon and Fenix had just fallen down into a hole. Of all the stupid thing to . . .

"This is why gimps travel under supervision."

"It wasn't a hole until I stepped on it," Fenix replied irritably. He wasn't so dimwitted as to simply walk into a hole; heck, if he'd been at full strength he probably would have been able to jump back even as the ground was collapsing.

The silhouette slowly rose in height; he winced as he stood, leaning heavily on the nearby wall to do so. He didn't think he was seriously injured, but he was certainly damn sore. His body couldn't take sudden impacts well.

Soon Emma would be able to see his face clearly; at over six feet tall, if he was in better condition he probably could have just jumped and pulled himself out. "Actually, I think it's a hallway. It's definitely mad-made." He tried but failed to keep the strain out of his voice.

"Hrm," she pondered aloud.

Well, that confirmed her suspicions, but seeings how it was night and all that jazz, she wasn't exactly tempted to jump down there and have a party with Fenix (actually, she was never tempted to have a party with Fenix, but she was even less tempted at this hour).

"Here, give me your hand," Emma said as she reached both of her hands down towards him, "I'll try pulling you out. Just try pushing on that wall there when I'm pulling . . ."

Summon the strength of her family. Yes, this was a good idea. Her dad was strong. Remmy was strong. Sarah was strong. Emma had never been terribly strong (in fact, even now, she was too scrawny for her own good), but maybe, just maybe, she could summon some of that Vaerbond strength . . .

Fenix stared up at her skeptically. "You aren't going to be able to pull me out," he concluded after a moment. Emma was not exactly strong, and while he was far from heavy--in fact, he probably didn't weigh significantly more than she did in his current emaciated state--he was still probably too much for her to pull out, even if he braced himself on the wall.

But he supposed it couldn't hurt to try; if Emma could pull enough to get him off the ground at all, she could probably pull him out of here. So despite his words he took her hand, put one foot on the wall, and pushed up as much as he could.

The weight margin for someone bigger than Emma would've made Fenix only slightly larger, but . . . she'd only barely crested a hundred pounds, and she was all skin and bones. Skinny as a rail. She was sufficiently tiny, and Fenix had about a foot and a half on her.

No doubt about it, she could not lift this man. She tried, yes. She dug her heels into the earth and pulled with all her might, but she really had no muscle to work with and the earth was particularly soft today. When she pulled, all she succeeded in doing was bringing herself closer to the hole. When Fenix pulled, all he succeeded in was drawing her even closer than that. Ten seconds passed before she let out a surprised yelp, followed shortly by a crash that the both of them should probably have expected when this idea even crossed Emma's lips. The pain was brief, at least for her, but the humiliation was not . . .

Particularly because this ended with Fenix lying on his back and Emma on top of him. Sitting on top of him, that is. Straddling his hips, in fact. While wearing excessively short shorts and a flannel shirt that was all kinds of disheveled and barely hanging onto her.

As he feared, it wasn't going to work; Fenix tried to let go but Emma either out of panic or stubborn pride held fast, resulting in her being pulled over the edge and onto him. The resulting position would have been either extremely awkward or slightly titillating if it weren't for the fact that she'd just fallen ten feet and landed on him. That being the case, the only reaction he gave for many seconds were gasping for air and noises of pain.

Finally, when he'd caught his breath, he only uttered, "Told you." He was going to want her to get off of him too, but at the moment all he could do was lay on the ground and try to recover.