Her previous statement would mean nothing if he didn’t hurry up.

“YAH!” A yell came from her right. She was already starting to recognize his voice. Looking at him for the cause of the cry, she found a dagger hilt sticking out of his arm

Ouch

“Shouldn’t have done that,” She accidentally said aloud when he pulled the knife free. He grappled with the man who stabbed him. Soldiers where closing in, and growing in numbers. She kicked the head of a man who reached for her leg.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted someone rushing forwards

“Look ou-” Hands reached for her chainmate, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He was pulled to the ground and she followed. Lyra landed on her feet. She stumbled but the chain connecting them kept her from falling.

“Seize him!!” a soldier yelled.

Lyra took a step back, almost bumping into his. With no weapons it would be nearly impossible to defeat all these men in hand to hand combat, especially when she only had one hand. They were completely outnumbered.

In a second an arm was around her throat and she was spun to face the other way. Her hands grasped the arm trying to pull it away.

“Sorry, kit.” a voice said at her back.

Son of a bitch

She struggled against his grip.

“Don’t !!” a voice yelled, “Take them alive!” She eyed the man who spoke. It was the coachman she strangled with the chain.

“Alive, huh? Are ya special or something? Maybe I should take you for myself.” His warm breath brushed the back of her neck.

Lyra stiffened, her teeth gritted together. Memories she’d rather forget flashed in her mind. The inside of her left wrist burned beneath the leather bracelet she wore. It was made on her wrist, and the only way to take it off was to cut it off.

Using the heel of her boot she dug it into the top of his foot.

She was jerked back towards the waggon then released She had just sat down then a snap of the reigns sounded. The wheels instantly began to turn. Bystanders jumped out of the way of the speeding wagon.

“Here, you drive.” He said shoving the reigns into her hands. Brief panic flashed in her eyes. Lyra disliked horses, but she knew how to drive a wagon. A little. More like shes done it once, and it didn’t go well.

Taking one reign in each hand she steered the beasts off the main path. Quickly the guards and soldiers were left behind. Probably scrambling to find mounts of their own.

Lyra’s eyes darted from side to side. Where to go? She didn’t even know where they were. Houses grew smaller and land began bigger as they rode. The second between houses she saw it. The perfect spot to lay low. The forest.

Pulling back hard on the reigns, the horses nickered and slowed. A prisoner transport wagon was too notice able. Between the backs of two houses the carriage stopped. She stood on her seat to look around. No one was around, and if they were followed they were far enough behind for the moment.

The steel chain jingled as she turned. looking down at the man she fought the urge to kick his teeth in.

If he bleeds out and dies, I’d just need to break his hand and slip the cuff that way.

The bloodied steel of the dagger in his hand glinted.

One problem at a time, She told herself, glancing quickly at the street again.

Sheathing his agonizing wound with his other hand, Hoch grimaced. Despite his tolerance for pain, as well as his enjoyance, nothing could make his flesh ache any less. He’d watch heedlessly as the woman swung the steeds away from the parade, his body rocketing to the side and nearly flying off of the etched seats if not for his grappling fingers. As adrenaline wore down, so did his wellness. It felt as if something was thumping against his skull, convulsing in his head enough to where he had little energy to raise his brows. It felt as if every vein in his arm had acid pumping through them, not to mention the amount of blood loss.

“Could’ve pressed down a little harder.” Zeke would crow in reference to his foot. “If I didn’t know any better…I’d think you were flirting with me back there.” Suppressing a groan of pain, he’d clench his jaw as liquid scarlet continued to stain his palm. They had slowed to a stop long ago, and now he watched as she stood atop her seat, analyzing the vicinity. The forest before them cooed with life and fantastical soul, any unsheltered being would know what lay ahead.

Well then.

Hopping from the bruised, wagon floor, Zeke rustled his top bed of locks with the dagger in hand, walking on regardless of the woman on the other end. His cloak was confiscated but at least he had his tunic. Tearing the hem of his shirt, dark gray in color, he’d stifle his stab wound with the fabric, catching his lip between his teeth. He wanted to drive his blade into her chest and conclude this two person odyssey, but was he even confident that he could win? –Not in this state. A state akin to many other disasters that he’d been in with his posse, except this time he had no goons on him, but the law.

“You know, you never answered my question, kit.” He’d turn to face her, his cropped shirt basking in all of its glory, onyx vest layered and cinching his chest and abdomen. “What's so special about you?” Hoch smirked, approaching the woman and pinning his adopted knife in the air, hovering at her throat. “Don’t worry. I’m too weak to try anything yet.” Cocking his head, he’d continue. “You’ll take care of me, right?”

Dropping his arm back at his side, he’d swivel, embracing the festering pangs that swelled in his limb. There was nothing he could do about it now except hold out. He’d begin to untether the stallions who huffed in disapproval, guiding the darker of the two, a silvery grulla, into the sand swept clearing; dry particles feathering the beasts’ ankles. “We either learn to ride, or use its meat for dinner.” Was he good at surviving? Yes. Was he good at living? No comment. “We can make a fire to keep the ogres away.” Cupping a hand against his cheek, he’d poorly swallow a cough, releasing the reins and buckling forward. It wasn’t until he had safely landed onto his chained accomplice that he’d groan, feigning weakness and yet the dagger clasped tightly between his fingers. Hoch retained some of his weight, but the rest, he sunk onto her, hiding his smile behind her shoulder. If it weren’t for damn height he’d have been cushioned better.

“You’ll have to carry me.” Screwing his eyes shut, slowly, Zeke would then retract himself, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve gotta get back to my crew.” Those bastards, if they hadn’t disbanded by now, then the next would definitely be a mutiny. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had to mold them all over again. And yet he missed his meat bags. He missed the sea. He missed the feeling of a woman's presence. Looking back down with his ashen irises meeting hers, shamelessly, Zeke would run his fingers through her hair, smiling softly.

“..I wonder what the rest of you feels like.” And as if expecting retaliation, he’d tap his cheek, poking his tongue out simultaneously. “Kidding. But if ya got something for me, aim it right here.”

Reluctantly Lyra followed when he pretty much slid off the wagon. Hopping down gravel crunched under her feet. Luckily there were no windows on the backside of these houses. A ripping sound drew her attention from her surroundings. The man and removed the bottom part of his shirt and tied it around the wound.

“You know, you never answered my question, kit.”

Lyra crossed her arms when he said that.

Why kit?

“What's so special about you?” He said and began to approach. His lips turned up to a smirk. Holding the edge of the blade against her throat, Lyra didn’t say anything. Her face was held a neutral expression. He was not the person to share her life's story with.

“Don’t worry. I’m too weak to try anything yet.” He spoke, his head tilting to the side, “You’ll take care of me, right?”

Lyra couldn’t help but almost laugh at that. His face was growing pale and sweat dotted his brow. His stance stood lower. He was probably having trouble keeping himself upright. Removing the blade from her throat, he then swayed. Instinct almost had her reaching out to catch him. Catching before she did she only leaned forward slightly.

She watched as he untied the horses. Taking a half step back when they were loose an unsure looked crossed her face.

“We either learn to ride, or use its meat for dinner.” He said making that decision on his own. She didn’t even want to stand near the beast, let alone climb on its back.

I’d rather walk, and they probably don't even taste good.

“We can make a fire to keep the ogres away.” These words make her reluctant to go into the woods.

At this point we have to options, either get taken prisoner again by royal guard, or get eaten by man eating fiends.

“I hate being on land,” She muttered.

The stranger swayed forward, snapping Lyra out of thought. She awkwardly caught the falling man. One arm held him up from his armpit, the other around his waist.

“Why are you so heavy,” She said in a breath. Her back arched backwards trying to hold up his weight.

“You’ll have to carry me.” He spoke in her ear. As she was about to drop him he slowly removed himself. His hands were hot on her shoulders.

He probably has an infection

“I’ve gotta get back to my crew.” Lyra’s eyes widened a bit at that comment, one that seemed he didn’t mean to say aloud.

“Crew?” She asked semi rhetorically

Crew could mean many things, but it was most often used as a term regarding pirates. She looked him up and down.

Could he be a pirate? This guy?

Well, she was one to talk. A female pirate was uncommon, but a female pirate captain was rare.

My idiots better have gotten out of there alive

Lyra Jerked her head away when his fingers began to run through her hair.

He smiled softly.

“Don’t,” She snapped at him, her hazel eyes narrowing.

“..I wonder what the rest of you feels like.” This comment pushed her limits.

Lyra knocked his hands off her shoulders, the chain hardly rattled when she did.

He tapped his cheek and stuck his tongue out.

“Kidding. But if ya got something for me, aim it right here.”

Lyra stilled.

A laugh slowly began to form and her shoulders shook. She put her hand on her keens holding herself up. She could barely breathe between rolling laughter. After catching her breath, Lyra flipped her head up, red-brown hair following in an arch. She looked at him tilting her head, a grin across her lips. A glint of something in her eyes.

Her fingers curled into a fist, and throwing her weight into her knuckles collided with his cheek.

“Do not treat me with such familiarity. If you touch me again, you will loose that hand.” She sincerely threatened.

Aching with laughter was the woman, body tilting along with her hilarity. Zeke watched, shelving his hands inside his pockets musingly. The sun sank slowly past the vista, puffs of cloud consuming the most of its breathy rays. And just as he had drawn his gaze back towards her did Zeke realize the fist jolting towards his face. Right where he had wanted it too. His head rang in protest, cheek rounding with pain. With tottered footing, Zeke retracted his hands, tenderly skimming the reddened skin with a thumb. “Ouch.” He spoke, voice smooth. But why was he so exhausted? Hoch nearly slumped to an incline, brows raising in surprise.

“Do not treat me with such familiarity. If you touch me again, you will lose that hand.”

Directing his eyes back to hers, he quieted, as if thinking, when in actuality, he had begun to milk the pain. “Yes ma’am.” He finally responded, albeit teasingly. -falling back onto his ass and palming the ground with mild disorientation. He stared up at the hulking masses of brick, dagger pressed beneath his palm. When an unwarranted smile bent his lips, Hoch would eventually lift, eyes narrowed and arms wavering. She isn't any average lady, is she? “I think…” He started, only to begin something else. “Fuck. It feels like I’m dying.” Truthfully, it did. It felt as if he was holding back a landslide of unconsciousness. And as much as he’d like to think this woman was nothing but a damsel, he doubted he’d ever wake if he faltered now. Tucking the knife in his waistband, Zeke grabbed the horse's rein, wiping the dew from his forehead before ambling towards the tree line.

He felt no vengeance, nor desired it. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected knuckles to the face, but he was content with the outcome. Coercing the steed over a spiny log and then later descending down a lumped slope, Zeke sucked in a breath, pausing beside a furred sapling that had slowly begun relinquishing its leaves. He had seen these types on the coast of Kikilta. A small, seaport city with small wealth. Officers had been sent to exterminate the overpopulation of Ymeet. It was there that the Khalida had stolen a shipment of crumbled sapphire, trafficking it south of Perkinzha Empire, some even reaching a small kingdom overseas. With the sapphire stolen, the ymeet had overtaken the majority of Kikilta, and its citizens? Well they had to be housed in another district until their homes could be rebuilt. A single ymeet alone poses little threat, and in fact can be harvested for its ailing roots. If concocted right, a ymeet can become a strengthening remedy for the ill.

It was no secret how dangerously close they were to the patrol grounds. It was only a matter of time before a search party stormed through, desecrating the aging sapling through their attempt to recapture what was lost. Aka, he and she.

“Hold this and keep it safe.” Zeke chirped. Having yanked the sapling from the terra before it could embed itself any further, he let the remnants of soil topple down past his wrist, dark green fur clenched tightly between his fingers and its withered, tangerine roots dulling to a sapping gray. He tossed it against her chest before turning and trudging forward, clenching the reins tightly as if it would better his condition. “You don’t like the land, huh?” He’d speak through a taut jaw, driving himself further with mustered speed. “I don’t like the water.” Huffing, he’d finally pause, swinging the ropes around the lowest branch in the vicinity. Colossal vegetation encircled them, the reeds in the near distance twice the size. Coarse grass feathered his thighs. The threat of nightfall tore through the fanning leaves of fir, conquering the skies whilst the loom of cloud darkened with the promise of gloom.

“Yes ma’am.” was his response, though the way he said it didn’t seem sincere. Knocking him on his ass was the highlight of her day. She felt a little bit of weight lift off her shoulders.

“I think…” She could tell that his mind was growing foggy, “Fuck. It feels like I’m dying.”

Well thats because you are.

-

A chill blanked over his skin when she crossed into the woods. Her body screamed that she wasn’t supposed to be here, that humans were not meant for these woods. Lyra followed the dying man, only because he seemed to sort of, almost, maybe, have an idea of where he was going. She however had no idea where she was, not even the city, capital, or kingdom. If the stars would come out quicker then she would know exactly where she was, but orange still filled the sky.

Lyra almost ran into him when he suddenly stopped. She was about to yell at him when she noticed what he was staring at.

A tree?

Lyra had no notion of botany, she didn’t need to know being out at sea. She could tell you that was a tree, and that was a bush, and they’re green, but nothing beyond that.

“Hold this and keep it safe.” She definitely haden’t expected him to rip the thing out of the ground and throw it at her.

“Eh,” She made a noise and held it away from her, pinching its tiny trunk between her thumb and forefinger. It just changed colors and he expected her to hold it.

“You don’t like the land, huh?” he asked.

“What?” his question caught her off guard.

He heard that?

“I don’t like the water.” He said before she answered.

When they finally stopped the sky was almost completely dark. She searched for the stars, but they were blocked out by the hight tree canopy. He said against a tree stump, and she slowly sat as well keeping as much distance between him as she could.

“Should we play a game?” he asked more strange questions.

Lyra placed the sapling, she forgot she was holding, on the ground.

“Let's play- the knife game.” Her brow rose at that. The knife game was a children's game.

“You up for it? Whoever loses, gives.”

She only blinked when he threw the blade at her feet.

“You want to play a game, that involves a knife, while you’re on deaths door,” She wondered if he was sane, “By all means, lets play.” She answered.

Lyra leaned forwards, crossing her legs beneath her. Grabbing the dagger hilt for the first time she felt a sense of relief now that it was in her possession. But the handle was sweaty. She made a face of disgust and wiped it on her skirt.

Man she wanted to get out of these clothes, they weren’t her in any way.

Twirling the dagger over her hand she spread out her fingers across the earth. She quietly began to hum the tune of the song that went with the game. It earrily resounded through the wood.