Executing

Whatever Demaren had expected to see when he had come over the wall--whatever sights he'd thought the city would have--where completely off base. He'd expected building like in Velt. Perhaps more carefully crafted, but similar to the earthen houses and structures. But, no, not this city. The City of the Eye was alive and shining, even at night. The buildings were not made of earth. They were tall as the trees of Tovsyla, and as glittering and reflective as the sea. Demaren was thrown for a moment, and even paused in his flight. The avery swarmed the dark roofs, moving along the lower structures. But Demaren was still struck by the looming, slender buildings of mirror and light. They towered! He craned his neck, but some seemed to expand upwards forever. His stomach tickled and even his hulking wings felt small.
"Even your mind is speechless. What do you see?" Ponce spoke quietly in Demaren's mind.
"Did you know the city was like this? I have never seen anything like it!"
"Yes, we were aware of the nature of this place. The people here think almost entirely the same. To even contemplate the city was to stare into a massive portrait that screamed monosyllabic words."
"That's kind of creepy."
Demaren soared lower.
"A wise choice. There are flying contraptions with guns in the air. They would have killed you."
Demaren was relieved at his decision. They could make things that flew? That was disconcerting. Demaren didn't want to think and converse, though, so he tugged up a barrier around his mind. He was getting better at it, and this barrier felt more like a brick severance as opposed to a flimsy gauzy one.
Ponce always understood when Demaren fell silent, just as Demaren always understood. There was no need to explain.
The entourage moved in silence. Demaren could not hear the movements below him, and could not see them either. But he sensed them. Their minds pressed against his like a crowd. He focused on avoiding the leering buildings and their invasive lights. They made excellent time. The large structures fell behind them soon, and they traversed smaller dwellings full of families sleeping soundly. Lights were dead here, save only a smattering, which glowed with the light for the few and the lonely.
A dull pressure in his head bade him to come to the conscious front.
"It is ahead, Demaren."
Ponce felt further ahead. He must have run faster and made it closer by this point. The building, though, was clearly visible. On either side of the box-like building, stood two towers like he had seen in the city. Only, these were not as tall. Of course, this was merely in comparison. These were still looming.
The avery stopped along the roofs of domestic homes.
"Shall we wait here until your word?"
"Yes." Demaren felt somewhat unnerved by the prospect of surveying the building for an appropriate entrance. But he swerved ahead, floating on the air currents to keep his wings silent.
The building was wide awake. Not a window was dim. Demaren felt that it must have always been lit so profusely. The lights felt so old and tired. Not at all fresh and bright like a newly lit candle. He sailed in a looping figure, gazing intently at the front. Then he swooped a few laps around the building. He couldn't see a way in. They were all lit. People everywhere, surely. He flew back to Ponce and spoke into his mind alone.
"Ponce, I need your help for this."
"I see. Shall I accompany you back?"
"Please."
They made their way around the building, Demaren hovering above Ponce.
"The lit rooms are not all occupied. There are some corridors unguarded, with windows we could easily access."
"That's good."
"The others are coming now."
Through the night, the other avery crept into view. The hazy light that sifted the air made it possible to see Ponce's tribe. They were ready, and they followed Ponce. Demaren followed him as well, as Ponce slowly picked a choice window. When he had decided on it, five avery slipped up the walls and surrounded it. Delicate claws from females somehow pried the glass free. Demaren was astonished and mystified. The avery were proving more resourceful and advanced than expected.
Once the window was loose, three more avery climbed up and disappeared into the darkness with the glass. No one moved. For a moment, Demaren wondered what was happening until in the distance a shattering told him the avery had gone off to dispose of the glass--and pose a marvelous distraction, if he could venture that guess from the crack-pop sounds that followed. They sounded like the things that had shot through his wing when they took Ashling. But there was no time to ponder, for the instant the glass was destroyed, the avery began to flood inside. Demaren swooped in and landed carefully. Ponce was beside him quickly, breathing the air deeply.
"We should find an Erynese soldier to direct us."
"Are there any nearby?"
"There's a small group coming this way, actually." Ponce sounded cheerful at this, and Demaren rolled his eyes.
Sure enough, around the corner ran six soldiers. They were flabbergasted at the sight of Demaren's army, and did not even scream when they were pinned down. Ponce stared for a moment at them, before five of the soldiers were made into meals. The last soldier, realizing his fate began to cry. Demaren was a little disgusted at the tears and blubbering.
"Truly, in this society there are very few men. Most males remain in an immature state their entire lives. And their soldiers are often soft--at least, in the cities." Ponce's disdain was obvious.
Demaren shook his head, "What does he know?"
"Ask him. I merely know that he has useful knowledge, but his thoughts are as confusing as an infants so I cannot discern it."
"Right..." Demaren stepped beside the imprisoned soldier. A good look told Demaren the tearful man, was actually a young man. Probably just 18. Demaren felt some pity for the soldier. "Hey. Stop crying."
The wailing quieted for a moment, and he spoke through a stuffed nose, "Are you going to kill me like tem?"
"Not if you help us." Demaren noticed the odd accent, very unique and strange.
"W-wat do you w-w-want from me?"
"Answers. Don't try to run, or they'll kill you for sure." He added mentally, to the avery, "Let him up."
The female gripping the boy slid off daintily. Her shoulders and hips swung smoothly, but her head remained turned towards the slight man, who scrambled to his feet and tried to make himself small.
"Where can I find the girl?"
"Wat girl?"
Demaren wasn't in the mood for any sort of runaround, so he pulled the knives from the latch on his shin and strode to the soldier, lacing the sharp edges close to the underdeveloped neck. His eyes narrowed in blatant annoyance.
"'onestly! I-I don't know w'ere any g-girl is. I'm just p-p-patrol!" His voice cracked. Demaren arched an eyebrow at Ponce.
"He knows something helpful, Demaren. Ask for something else."
Demaren pulled the knives away and stepped back, "Who would know?"
"Um..."
Demaren flipped one knife impatiently. The boy rubbed his knuckles and swayed on his feet.
"You know something, kid. So give us something!" Demaren was surprised at himself. He was usually nicer, even to people he didn't like. He felt very different here. He didn't like it at all.
"I-I know tere's an important project on the ei'teent floor! And Minister Entark is in t-targe."
"Which floor is this?"
The soldier was breathing more steadily now, and feeling more confident he may not die. "Sixt'."
Demaren slid his knives back into their sheaves with such a snap, that the soldier flinched violently. Demaren stood silently for a moment, mentally cursing (Ponce didn't enjoy the barrage) and trying to contemplate the fastest way up.
"You could--!" The soldier started but hesitated. Ponce walked to the boy and loomed over him, breathing in the scent of fear and sweat.
"We could?" Demaren joined Ponce.
Ponce seemed excited, "This will be good."
"You could take te elevator..."
"The what?" Demaren knew what it meant to elevate, but had never heard it used to describe what could be an object. Perhaps a form of transportation? Is it an animal, like a hop?
"Te e-elevator. It--It goes up and down faster tan stairs."
Demaren narrowed his eyes and stepped a little closer, "Explain?"
"It's a small room! Wit doors and it goes up and down! I don't really know muc about it, I just know ow to use it!" The soldier was getting panicked and obviously wishing he hadn't mentioned it. He pointed down the hallway from which he had come, probably in hopes of earning opportunities to live.
"Oh! You can work it? Good!" Demaren turned back to Ponce. "Why don't we take two more with us to the elevator and send everyone else to clear the way? Some can scale the outside and meet us on top."
"Why do we not just climb the walls outside to reach the desired floor? It would be faster."
"Because I kind of want to see an elevator."
"You are a strange creature."
"Indulge me." Demaren strode forward and gave the soldier a reasonable shove to indicate he was leading the way with Demaren close at hand.
Ponce followed with a female, Jema, and another male, Leo, as Demaren pushed the young soldier down the hall. The soldier stopped them in front of two metal doors and pushed a little round button, which lit up.
The door opened quickly, startling Demaren. And even more startling to him was the sudden shout from the far corner of the hallway. Before he could turn his head, tiny projectiles attacked the party.
Demaren snarled and dove into the elevator, followed swiftly by the avery. The doors began to close on their own. Demaren noticed the soldier had not followed them and remained in the hallway with his arms over his head, crouching low. So, Demaren reached out, caught him by the scruff of his shirt, and pulled him into the small room. The doors slid closed, silencing the beat of footsteps as they hustled towards them. Obviously, not every soldier was as easily quelled as this shivering one.
Glancing around the room, Demaren saw it was very tiny. Ponce and the other two avery only fit because Jema was so small. The solider was pressed in front of Demaren and Demaren could feel the young man's heart beating faster than was probably healthy.
"Well? Make it go."
The soldier pressed a button--one of many--that Demaren couldn't read. It lit up as the one outside had done. There was a strange shift in the room, and an almost silent humming. But it seemed as though nothing was happening. Demaren was about to threaten the life out of their escort when the room jolted to a halt, and the lights flickered.
"O no. Wy now? Tis is terrible!" The solider seemed frantic and repeatedly pressed a button with arrows pointing outward. Frustrated snuffs echoed in the little room.
"What happened, kid?"
"Tey stopped te elevator!"
"They can--they can do that?" Demaren was uncomfortable with that and slightly intimidated.
"Of course tey can! And now tey will old us ere until tey can get ere and kill us!" He began to cry again, frowning hatefully at the doors. He kicked hem swiftly with his boot. "If tis door would open, we could get away."
"Oh." Demaren looked at the metal panes. It seemed easy enough. Demaren shoved the soldier over, "Move."
"Wat are you--"
Demaren was able to press the tips of his fingers between the doors, and pull at them with extreme force. As they slid open a tiny fraction, he slipped his fingers in fully to the joint and exerted all of his effort into prying the doors apart. His muscles strained and screamed at him, but he pushed himself to continue until the way was open. For a moment, he looked at the dark wall they opened to. Ponce quickly caught his attention.
There's another set of doors level with your head, Demaren. Probably another level.
Merely nodding his response, Demaren could feel his arms beginning to shake. He stepped away from the doors and released them, expecting them to snap shut. But they glided together with a soft shuffle. Surprisingly slow, too. He had an idea.
"Why didn't they slam shut?" Demaren turned to the soldier.
"Safety precautions? I do not know."
"Are they all like that?"
The soldier nodded.
"Those doors we saw on the other side..."
"Te lower 'alf of tat floor. Tere are two sets of doors for te elevators."
Demaren was looking upward. Could he break through the ceiling? Doubtful. He reached up easily and gave it a swift pound with his fist. It echoed, but held firm. He frowned and lowered his arm just as the soldier gasped.
"O! Te escape 'at!"
Demaren arched an eyebrow at him, "Escape hat?"
The young man frowned, "No. 'At!" He frowned harder, "Atk. Atch!" He scrunched his face up tightly, "A door."
"Oh..." Demaren pondered this for a moment before getting it. "Oh! A hatch." He looked up again, but did not see anything that looked like a door or a hatch or even a small vent.
"Lift me up!" insisted the soldier.
Demaren grabbed the soldier by the back of his shirt and brought him up. For a moment, his smaller fists smacked the ceiling in vain. But, he swiftly found what he wanted and began pressing on a random spot. Nothing happened, and the soldier looked tired, so Demaren lowered him.
"Wait, no! It's tere!"
"I believe you." Demaren gave the young man and pat on the head. Then he reached up to where the smaller man had been pushing, and spread his hands across the surface. "Here, right?" Then he started to push. His arms were still aching from the doors, but he felt the give behind his force. So he dropped his arms.
He looked quickly around, then said, "Stand back, I need some room."
The avery compacted surprisingly well and the soldier folded into a corner. So Demaren leaned back, resting his hands behind him against the handrail. He braced for just a moment before swinging his legs up and pushing with his arms so that his legs flew full force into the designated spot above him.
And with a crash and a tumble, a square gave way into a dark space.
Demaren smiled, then he turned to the soldier. "Time to go up, kid." And he grabbed the soldier by the uniform again, pressing him up and out like a buoy. The small figure scrambled out of sight and was heard noisily above them. Then the avery slipped out. Last, and a little winded, Demaren reached up and through, bracing himself on the outside of the room. He swiftly pulled himself out and sat on the top.
He was impressed. The soldier stood near him, looking conflicted and tired. Demaren sighed when he noted that the doors to the nearest level were tightly closed. And again he managed to creep his fingers between the doors and pry them open. Then he stepped between the doors, pressed his back to one and his foot high against the other. A moment of breathing brought his mind down to a calmer level. He looked at the team.
"Get onto that floor."
"Wat about you?" Said the soldier, rubbing his palm against his arm nervously.
Demaren glowered at him, "You said all these doors close slowly. Now, get out there. I'll follow behind you."
The team moved quickly--even their unwilling guide moved efficiently. Once again last, Demaren dropped after them and the doors closed quietly and slowly.
"Perfect."
Ponce sounded less pleased, "I would like to never go in there again, if at all possible."
"Agreed." Demaren muttered aloud, causing the soldier to wince in some confusion. "Where are we, kid?"
"Elevent' floor," he replied, gesturing back at the doors. There were two parallel lines painted cleanly on them. "Te stairs are over tere." He pointed around the corner.
"Demaren, some of the others seem to have made it to our floor."
"All right then." Demaren straightened up cheerfully, rolling his tired muscles. He gave the soldier a prod and the group headed off. The doors to the stairwell came up on them quickly, and waiting patiently beside them was a group of three avery. They were all splashed in varying amounts of blood. The smell tinged the air with iron and humidity.
"Tis is as far as I can t-take you..." The soldier leaned against the wall, shaking slightly. "I do not know were tey keep te project or anyting like tat."
Demaren stood over the soldier, curving his wings around their unwilling guide. "You can guess."
"Please! I will be killed if I elp you any more! I do not want to die!"
Demaren stepped back, surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes and gestured to himself, silently pointing out the more immediate threat--himself.
The soldier's mouth fell open slightly and he shrank down the wall in defeat. Demaren felt guilt and pity for the soldier, feeling a slight hope that he may be able to find a way to spare the man's life when this was over. "Let's go. We have seven floors to go."
The stairs were impossible for Demaren to fly up, as they were awkwardly placed, so he had to walk beside the trudging soldier. The avery scampered up and down the way, looking for enemies to take care of. They were fortunate, though, that no one found them there. They gathered two more avery around the fifteenth floor. When they reached the eighteenth, Demaren was tired of walking and his arms were tightening up.
Once in the hallway, the soldier began to walk even slower and Demaren was losing patience. And they were losing time. So, he snatched the front of the soldier's uniform and dragged him off. Whimpering all the way, the prisoner's boots dragged and clipped down the hallway.
"Wat te ell is making all tat noise?" Came a voice around the perpetual turn of this circular level. A moment later, a pale, too-thin man appeared. His face went from annoyed to shocked and alarmed very quickly. The soldier quivered in Demaren's grasp, and whispered, "Entark..."
"Entark?" Demaren felt a rush of success. This was the man who could lead him to Ashling. Then suddenly, hate. The face of this became very clear in his mind as he recognized him. This was the man who had kidnapped Ashling in the first place! He was in Velt! Demaren was so angry, he threw the soldier backwards towards the Avery and stepped forward towards Entark.
"X'il et ip'ria! Hi'u ern ut'sta okma're'sta!" It took a moment for Demaren to realize he was cursing in Syla, something he rarely did anymore. Annoyed at himself and everything, he tugged free some of the thin needles. Ponce quickly stormed his mind.
"Calm yourself! If you kill him, you will not find your mate!"
Demaren felt too much to respond. Too angry to think, too terrified to care. He flipped the needle knives, ready to throw them.
"Demaren! STOP!" Ponce not only shouted and violently knocked Demaren with his long neck. Demaren did not fall, but he stumbled. And Entark, turned on one foot and ran. Demaren wanted to scream in fury that his enemy was escaping. But Jema anticipated him and shot like a bullet after Entark.
Demaren felt his fury deflate very quickly. He felt very tired, and Ponce let him lean against his shoulder. The doors must have taken more out of him than he thought...
"Foolish boy." Came Ponce's gentle chiding.
"I know... Thank you..."
"She has him. Let us move in their direction." Ponce glanced back at the soldier, who was cowering under the unnerving stare of Leo. "Bring the soldier. He is useful."
So, with Ponce beside him, and the soldier in tow with Leo, they met up with Jema who had Entark pinned painfully against a wall. With her claws in one shoulder. She rolled her head quickly at them, mentally smirking.
Her little voice danced through Demaren's head, "Look what I found."
"Lovely." Ponce responded with less emotion than a rock.
"Okay, Entark." Demaren put a lot of emphasis on the T sound and sneered in his face. "Where's Ashling?"
Entark laughed somewhat maniacally, and haltingly, spasming in pain. "Se is not ere."
"Like hell she isn't." Demaren dipped under the arm of Jema to stand in front of Entark.
Again, Entark laughed, like a creepy school girl, "Is true!" He smacked his lips, "Er body is ere. But I tink se is gone."
Demaren twitched. Probably. He wasn't really sure. But he was very sure that he ripped Entark from the spot Jema had him pinned to to slam him against the ground with all the force he could. He even relished the ripping and breaking of fragile bones--after all, Jema hadn't let go yet. He pressed his palm into Entark's esophagus, curling his fingers around the slim neck. Ready and willing. "You saying she's dead?"
Entark was still smiling, even as his throat gurgled and pulsed for air. He coughed words out in such a way, Demaren wanted to rip Entark's face apart. "No. We wanted er alive. It took quite a wile to obtain er." He gave an especially bubbly choke, then whispered, "Se calls for you."
It was like an explosion. Like the dream of being a star was happening again. He was a star and he was fragmenting into a hundred million tiny shards of death and life. He wanted to direct it all into Entark and watch him dissolve--And he felt he could. But, instead, Demaren smashed his fist into Entark's face before he slammed his head against the floor again. And again. And again. Wrath and fear exploded from him in the form of a burning yell, heightening with each smash of Entark's skull. His hands shook, tiny blood vessels pressing and churning beneath his skin, trying to escape. The muscles on his back seemed to writhe electrically, and he wasn't sure if his wings had burnt themselves up or simply vanished, for he no longer felt them. He closed his eyes in his fury, and instantly felt nothing. Oh, the emotions remained, but the physical part of existence seemed to fade away. He was an endlessly looping destruction.
"Stop." Came Ponce's voice, again, full of reason and reality. Demaren opened his eyes and looked down at Entark. He had stopped smashing him, so he was still alive. Still conscious even. Still smiling. Demaren let go of Entark, stood, and walked to stand behind Ponce.
"You would like to see er?" Came a bloodied, shaking, yet controlled voice from Entark.
Demaren turned to glare at him, "Don't you ever die?"
Entark laughed with burbles and flecks of blood. Demaren pressed his bloodied hands to his face, not caring if he smelled the iron of Entark's blood for the rest of his life. He smiled even, looking forward to the moment of his death.
At that moment, there was the building sound of running boots coming from behind them. The entourage turned quickly to meet the sound of twenty soldiers racing to meet them. They were in view within moments, orders shouting from the mouth of a dangerous looking man.
"They don't look like the other soldiers..." Demaren said, aloud, directing it to Ponce.
The kid answered him, "I tink tey are te special unit. Tey are very mean..." He shivered.
The unit aimed their guns, but did not fire at them.
"Leo, Jema, and Ponce, you come with me. Can you five handle them?"
Their response was merely to suddenly fly at the special soldiers, they had killed one a piece before the first shot was fired. And they were efficient, forcing the soldiers back and out of sight. The sounds of fighting continued though.
"More soldiers are coming to help them, Demaren. We need to move. More of my tribe is coming to aid Era and the others."
Demaren nodded, assuming Era was one of the five avery. Then he whirled on his feet, strengthened and calmed with fresh resolve, and stood over Entark, one leg on each side.
"You know where Ashling is? Let's go then." Then Demaren tugged the Minister up by the bad shoulder and gave him a shake. "Which way, ip'ria x'il? Or has the blood clogged your throat."
Entark choked with pleasure, "Not yet." He rolled his head at Demaren and smiled, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "Tis way, winged boy." He flinched his good arm back towards the way he came.
Demaren heartlessly and forcefully half ran and half dragged Entark down the hallway at jogging speed. He didn't care that Entark staggered, nor that the blood flowed like water, and even gave little squirts onto his face.
And still, Entark talked, "We became close, Asling as I."
He coughed and gurgle as often as he spoke, and Demaren couldn't decide whether he wanted to finish ripping him in half or shove what was left of his arm down his throat to shut him up.
"Like friends. But..." He sighed like recalling a fond memory, "We need er energy. So we took it."
"That's it? This is about her energy explosions?" Demaren whipped his head at Entark.
"It is ow we power te city. Se could ave given it... willing." He sputtered, smiling even still. "But, se did not know ow. So we teac er." He glanced at Demaren through the sides of his eyes, almost flirtatiously, and then he grinned, "You know ow?"
"No. I specialize in turning it off."
"This man is insane, Demaren. His mind is as destroyed as his body." Ponce whispered in Demaren's mind.
Demaren did not respond, for he could not remember how.
"Se must be..." Entark lulled his head as he hesitated, before rolling it back to Demaren, "Moved."
"What are you trying to say, you bloody fountain?"
"Emotional." Entark staggered forward for a moment, and Demaren let him fall to his knees. His arms draped to the floor limply, and his head hung for a moment, but he arched it back up to look at Demaren's face, "Se must be beyond fear. Beyond anger."
Demaren leaned down, letting his wing prod Entark between the shoulder blades. "How much further do we have to go?"
Entark raised his eyebrows, "Yes, come come, I sow you. Words are useless."
"If only you truly believed that." Demaren pulled Entark up by the back of the collar on his uniform and dragged him onward.
Demaren ignored whatever else Entark may have said, if he indeed said anything. But Entark directed them into a doorway which slid open at their presence.
There were five men inside the room, three men in white coats and two in special unit soldier uniforms. The soldiers raised their guns at the sight as an instant reaction, but lowered them slightly and hesitantly when Demaren brandished a knife at Entark's neck.
"As bad as it looks, this could get a lot worse for him." Demaren said as they all came into the room. He looked at the soldiers and then at the white coated men. "Ponce?"
"The soldiers are useless and dangerous. The scientists... we only need one of them."
"Kill them."
Later, Demaren would look back and feel the worst for the two Jema killed. He had never seen the female's hunt before, and seeing the claws rip open the chest cavities would have made him sick, if he hadn't already been disturbed to the point of numbness. As it was, the poor soldier was ill and sat silently shaking and sobbing in the corner long after it had ended, muttering about "never wissing to see another body treated like tat again".
The death of his companions made the scientist instantly complying and helpful.
"Wat do you want?" He leaned against the table of lights and buttons with a desperate sort of tension.
"Ashling." Demaren was growing weary of explaining. He threw Entark at the feet of Ponce, who rested a single slender hand on the pale and twitching man, still smiling.
The scientist pointed to a glass wall that Demaren had somehow failed to see. He turned slightly to look and felt every emotion he had felt in the past weeks evaporate.
There was Ashling. There she was. But she wasn't. She was a shell of Ashling. She was, as Entark had put it, a body. Her skin was pale and grayed. Her hair looked limp and tired. She didn't move. She didn't make a single reaction if she had seen him. He didn't think she could even see, despite her eyes being open and weeping. She was strapped to a chair. A strange tube came from her arm and disappeared into the ceiling, along with shining cylinders and pipes and other tubes. Thins chords, like rope, snaked upward in tangles. All vanishing into fitted holes. And the entire room pulsated with a light that seemed to start from Ashling.
"Energy..." He whispered.
"Demaren. Guarding Stars, Demaren, what have they done to her!" Ponce's calm nature seemed to stumble at the sight, even.
Demaren stared and stared. He wanted to forget he had ever seen her this way, but to look away would not save her.
"Let me in there." He said quietly.
"You can't go in!" The scientist began, "It will kill you! It will kill us all!"
Demaren did not let his gaze waver from his dearest desire, but merely raised the knife in his hand to point it at the scientist. "Is that for sure?"
"Uh..." The man shook and quivered, "Te room is meant to contain. You go in tere... We all die, maybe se dies."
Finally, Demaren tore his eyes away. He focused the pale white gold iris' on the scientist. "Let. Me. In there."
"Not just us! Te ole city!"
Demaren ground his teeth, gritting them fiercely together. He backed the man against the table, pressing the blade sharply to the pale throat. "You think I give a damn about you or your city?! Let me in there!"
"Okay! Okay!" He threw his hands up, a silent plea, and after realizing Demaren was not about to cut off his head, he pointed to a door, "Tru opposite door. And I enter te code and let you in."
Demaren let his arm fall away and sheathed the blade, walking to the door. Ponce had been distracted by the horrors of Ashling's situation, and Leo and Jema were in the hallway on careful watch, so the guard over the Minister had fallen to... no one. And Entark was staggering to his feet and hobbling with great effort, and much blood dribbling, to the large window.
Demaren paused at the doorway and looked at Entark with irritation, "How have you not bled to death?"
Entark was on the other side of the table from Demaren, staring with dark fondness at Ashling, and ignoring what Demaren said, "Se is so beautiful. I would ave ad er for a daugter."
Demaren clenched his hand around the rim of the doorway. "You'd make a lousy father. And your time here has passed." Then he stepped through as the door closed.
He was in the same room as Ashling now. The energy she emitted surged over him like a warm wave of water. He felt it tingle on his skin and flicker through his body, but it did not give him pain nor hinder his progress to her.
When he reached her, he untied her feet and hands as quickly as he could. When he removed the halo band from her head, her eyes flicked up to look at him. There was no glimmer of recognition or flutter of eyelids. No sharp breath of surprise. Merely a glance. And Demaren realized she was speaking. So quietly. Barely noticeable, really, for her mouth barely moved and the sound was just the breath between her lips. But it was there.
"Demaren."
Whispered with each breath. Demaren could have sat for hours and listened. His name had never sounded so wonderful before. Still, she had to be freed.
"R-remove te t-t-tube." The scientists voice echoed in the room. He sounded shaken up, but Demaren supposed that to be expected from the days events. So he pressed his hand over the spot where the tube entered her skin, and using his other hand, pulled the slender slip of material from her arm. Her skin was soft and damp, and burning with heat. Strange, how pale it was, yet how heated it felt. The muscles were firm from the almost corrosive temperature, but Demaren did not notice it once he pulled the tube out.
For as soon as it was removed, Ashling gasped and her back arched, throwing her head backwards. Her entire body began to shake and vibrate. The energy releases ceased, but her body started to glow--brighter and brighter. Demaren stood still, unsure what to do, until Ponce sounded urgently in his head.
"Demaren! You must stop her. She is going to kill us!"
So, Demaren did the only thing that came to mind--probably the one thing he had planned on doing when he saw her again for weeks--he gathered her off the chair and into his arms, pulled her shoulders in tightly and kissed her firmly on the mouth.
The glowing intensified for a moment before dimming in ever darker pulses. The vibrating, too, faded. For a moment, she was still in his arms and unresponsive to his kiss.
Then a tiny chirp flitted between her lips, sounding like the birth of an angel to Demaren. A chirp, and then movement. Just the smallest of movements, but when you're kissing someone you only ask that they kiss you back anyway, so it was all that mattered. He broke the kiss first, partially because he wanted to look at her again, and partially because he wasn't sure she could have ended it herself.
So he looked down at her, her eyes open and seeing him. The hazel eyes he had looked into so many mornings, and missed at every moment. There they were, sparkling with life. Her skin, though still ashen, looked less gray and sickly. More and more her every moment.
"Demaren." She whispered again, though he could hear a tinge of her voice in the sound this time. Her hand had been leaning against his arm and now it tried to give his bicep a little squeeze. He wanted to hold her forever, and wasn't at all surprised when a tear or two stole from his eyes to her cheeks.
Ashling stared, her eyes starting to fluctuate, trying to stay awake, and she looked like she wanted to speak. But sheer exhaustion won and she suddenly fell unconscious.
Demaren waited, quivering in expectation. Would she explode again? But minutes floated by and she was still and limp. So he rushed to the doors and back into the scientist room.
He noticed that Jema had dragged something into the corner and, hunching over and blocking it from view, seemed to be eating it. Entark. Demaren shuddered.
"Is she all right?" Ponce questioned.
"I'm not sure..."
The soldier, having calmed down slightly, had slipped from his corner to eye Ashling. He spoke up quickly and suddenly, catching the entire room off guard, "Se'll need IV's for a few days until se can eat again."
Demaren swiveled to look at the soldier, who quelled under Demaren's gaze. "Say that again?"
"Um... S-se'll need nourisment tru tose little tubes. Se will not be able to eat on er own for a day or two..." He seemed to revert to his meek state again.
"What do we need to help her then?"
The soldier perked up, smiling slightly, "You will need a medical kit! Tey are on every floor!"
"Ponce, I trust you won't kill him if he tries to run away. Would you go with him to get one?" Demaren looked at Ponce, who had been surveying the young soldier in silence.
"Certainly." He stood to lean over the soldier, signaling him to walk. So the two disappeared into the corridor, returning a few minutes later with the soldier sitting astride Ponce.
"Ponce?!" Demaren was shocked at the sight.
"He is very slow." Ponce suddenly unseated the soldier, who had been looking particularly fearful on the avery's back.
Demaren looked at the soldier, "Open it."
The soldier fumbled the latches and popped open the lid. Inside was a jumble of bags, tubes, needles, and paper packets, all sealed in fitted clear material. He didn't understand at all, so he looked to the soldier.
"What does this do?"
"A lot of tings. Some is for wounds and some is for te sick like er."
"Can you use it?"
The soldier puffed up his chest in pride, smiling smugly, "I was trained for medicine. Not tis run around and soot people ting." He paused and then continued, "Actually, a lot of the patrols here were not trained to be soldiers..."
Demaren smiled at the soldier, then shifted Ashling in his arms. "Then you can come with us." Demaren walked past the boy to stand near Ponce.
"Wat?" The soldier turned quickly, in blatant horror. "You want me to come wit you? Wy?!"
"As you said, you were trained for medicine. And they'll kill you for helping us get this far." Demaren shrugged nonchalantly. Then he spoke to Ponce quietly, "How can we get out of here the fastest?"
"I am an idiot..." mumbled the soldier, dropping his face into his hands.
Ponce snickered at the forlorn soldier before focusing on Demaren, "We will have to go up or down another two levels, I think. The tribe members outside say there are no windows on this floor. Possibly even the floors above and below."
Demaren cursed. He whirled on the soldier again, "Nearest floor with a window!"
The soldier jolted, "Um--I tink it is on te fifteent floor."
"I am not taking that ridiculous elevator again." Ponce sniffed.
"Agreed." Demaren said aloud.
"Wy do you talk to yourself?" The soldier asked, probably feeling his life was soon to end anyway.
"I'm talking to this guy." Demaren cocked his head at Ponce, and headed for the door. "Let's get back to the stairs."
Jema and Leo followed quickly behind Demaren, while Ponce waited for the soldier to stand and gather the medical kit. They ran to catch up to Demaren's fast pace.
Going down the stairwell was much faster than going up. Demaren leaped from platform to platform, down eight platforms until he kicked one of the doors open. He was getting irritated with this place and the people and their funny accents and stupid technology. The three avery kept up with Demaren well enough, but the soldier was nowhere to be seen.
"Where the hell is the kid?" Demaren shouted. Leo shot back up the stairs, returning a moment later with the soldier on his back like a sack of potatoes.
"He was practically falling down the stairs." Leo sneered, laughing at the somewhat pathetic prisoner. Demaren had to agree, the soldier looked a little bruised from some tumbles, and it was something he felt like laughing at, only the soldier looked so terrified and tired.
"Can you carry him, Leo? We can't keep waiting for him."
"Fine by me, he doesn't weigh much."
Demaren stepped through the doorway and peered up and down the hall. It was very quiet, which seemed out of place. So he sent a question to the avery in the building, "What's the situation?"
The response was the same from almost everyone, "Dead." Only a few responded with some living captives. Demaren directed them to be deposited on the 18th floor and then to hurry over the wall to the meeting place. The avery on the wall confirmed the way was clear.
So Demaren and Ponce found the nearest window. Demaren shielded Ashling from flying glass as Ponce and Jema broke it apart--the need for secrecy was past. Demaren climbed onto the sill, about to take off, when something occurred to him and he turned to the soldier, "You will want to hold on as tight as you can. These guys climb walls."
There was a moment of satisfaction when he saw the stricken fear on the soldier's face, before Demaren pushed into the dark.
He soared in the cold night air, clutching Ashling close and protected. He frowned when he realized she was lighter than she had once been. Another reason to not regret anything that happened tonight.
He flew high above the city, making the flight over the city wall effortless. The descent was swift and chilling and Demaren lightly landed onto soft, dewy grass with ease. There were some avery already there, and he could see others racing through the darkness. The wall was probably a good 10 miles or so away.
An hour of waiting was not on his agenda, but the group waited for everyone to return. There was a heavy mindset as Demaren heard that some of the avery had been killed by a gun. He supposed that was why nearly everyone in the building had been killed.
When Ponce, Jema, and Leo made it back, the soldierv looked shell shocked as he tumbled to the grass. He lay in complete stillness for a few minutes before sitting up quickly, "By te great eye! Tat was te most trilling experience I ave ever ad!!" He was smiling, giddy, and shaking violently.
Demaren laughed. The sound of his laughter stirred Ashling, waking her slightly. In the pitch darkness she was not accustomed to seeing in, she whimpered in the deep shadow. Demaren pressed his forehead to her temple and quietly hushed her.
"It's all right, I've got you." He cooed.
A small voice came from her dry throat, "I can't see anything."
Demaren laughed very calmly, "It's night. You're outside. There isn't even a moon tonight."
She tried to move, which did not work well at all. The failed attempt seemed to tire her and she relaxed into his arms again. A stifled sigh sounded, before she turned and pressed her lips to his shoulder. Demaren silently wished he was not wearing Jain's black ensemble. A slow in her breathing told him she had fallen asleep again.
"We should move on to return to Kero and Larii." Said Ponce from Demaren's side.
Demaren agreed, giving Ashling a little squeeze.
Once again, they were on the move. Demaren flew on ahead, knowing he was supposed to be watching for Friend and Larii. But he couldn't help but look at the sleeping Ashling. He missed her, even now. He wanted her awake so he could talk to her and look at her and hear her speak. Ponce attempted to be understanding when Demaren had to backtrack to rejoin the group, having passed over Friend and Larii in his distraction. They were further away and in a larger growth of trees than Demaren remembered leaving them, and it was clear why when he arrived.
Larii was still sick with a fever and her eyes held no firm tracking, drifting and fluttering in a sightless way. Friend had froth in the corners of his mouth, and blood smeared across his lips. A hint of the severe wound in his leg. Demaren inhaled sharply at the sight, and narrowed his eyes.
"What happened?"
"Kero tells me they were attacked by a patrol. It was not predicted that patrols would be so far from the city, but they came all the same. Larii was completely overwhelmed by the presence of technology and went into shock. And Kero, in the process of fleeing with her, was shot."
"Oh, Friend..."
Friend nickered weakly and fell back to breathing heavily. Demaren was not entirely sure where he could set Ashling so he could attend to Friend, but Ponce resolved that by reclining near a tree. His mind was uncharacteristically quiet and inaccessible. Demaren smiled appreciatively and set Ashling into the smooth crook of Ponce's shoulder. He smoothed her hair once and hurried to help Friend.
Surprisingly, the soldier had brought it upon himself to begin treating Friend. He had already begun picking out tools. A silver bottle of fragrant liquid was misted onto a small shining pair of tongs as well as a thin knife and an odd needle.
"What is that stuff?"
The soldier started, but did not drop anything. "Tis is medicine so your animal does not die from infection. And tese are te tools tat will remove te bullet and stict te wound."
Demaren blinked, feeling confused by some of the words, but nodded anyway. The soldier nodded slightly and turned to Friend's injury. But the moment the soldier rested a hand near the wound, Friend jolted and made to rise up. Demaren had to dive down and keep his hands on Friend's face to calm him. Friend had to have his head turned away, but Demaren watched the work.
The soldier sprayed the disinfectant onto the open wound (Friend shuddered and whined) and ripped open a packet of clear material which had encased a thin clear tube. Some quick finger work revealed a very thin needle that seemed to be attached to the end of the tube. Before Demaren could ask about the needle, the soldier stuck the needle quickly into the flesh near the wound. He pressed down on the top of the tube for a moment, and the tube shrank slightly. He repeated this motion three more times until the tube had shrunk by half. And Friend, who had been so jumpy, was calm and drowsy. The soldier glanced up, giving a double take to Demaren's shocked face.
"Tis is a numbing serum. It as taken away te pain. For now."
Demaren merely nodded. He watched as the small pair of tongs was used to removed a small metal object. The thin knife was used to trim some nasty colored flesh, and the odd needle was threaded with thick string and used to close the wound. Demaren was impressed.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Samil."
"You're amazing, Samil."
The soldier remained focused, but smiled, "Tank you."
"Where did you learn to do that?"
Samil smiled with pleasure and puffed up, "I was trained wen I turned twelve to be a doctor." His face darkened, though, "But te military did not need my services, so I was given a gun and sent to patrol." He sighed, "I am not a soldier. I do not like to kill--I like to elp."
Demaren bit the inside of his mouth, "I'm glad we ran into you, then."
Samil nodded, glumly, then he silently rose and attended to Larii. Demaren let Friend's head settle to the grass, but remained kneeling there to absentmindedly stroke his mane.
There was a distinct feeling of regret and guilt in what he had done tonight. He did not regret saving Ashling, not in any sense of the concept, and would have done anything to have achieved it. But he did feel there were some unnecessary deaths that he could have so easily avoided. And forcing Samil to accompany them as an unwilling doctor seemed unfair too. But whose to say that if he hadn't brought him, that Demaren might have just had him killed as he had the soldiers and other scientists in that room? He stopped combing the soft mane and cracked his jaw loudly.
"Do not be so harsh, Demaren."
"I was not aware that I was thinking aloud, Ponce."
"You were not. I read your face."
Demaren grimaced slightly, then sneered at himself. "I'm not a very good man, am I?"
"No one is distinctly good by anyones definition. In matters of mating, or in yours words, matters of love, there is a natural tendency to do violent things. When I was young, I broke the neck of our tribe leader to ensure that I had no opposition in my efforts to mate with Essa."
"Your mate?"
"Yes. My only mate. She died three years ago."
"Your only mate? Do avery have more than one?"
"There is a natural tendency to mate with multiple partners. Males, as with every species, have a natural urge to spread their seed as far as possible, which is logical for the survival of our race, and we are a species heavily founded on logic, so it follows. And our females, unlike you bipeds, have multiple uteri and therefore, do not feel a need to obtain one mate."
"Then why did you--"
"I held Essa in the highest respect. I did not care for the idea of sharing her mentally or physically. It was unfortunate that Opar--the previous tribe leader--attempted to mate with her. I had killed him before I had even given a moment of logical thought to the situation. Essa was not angry. She forgave me on the spot, merely feeling pity for the dead leader. And as tradition followed, I became tribe leader. Essa had chosen not to mate prior to myself, and never intended on mating again afterwards."
"Ponce, that sounded like a romance."
"Did it? I suppose it was, when you look on it with your eyes. Yes, I expect I did love her. And she me." There was silence between the two for a moment but Ponce ended that with a short realization. "That realization makes the loss of her more painful to me."
"I'm sorry, Ponce, I didn't mean to cause you pain."
"You are not the source of my pain, nor did you aggravate it. But we have digressed. What I intended to teach you was that the tribe did not hold against me the death of our leader. It was understood. What you did was, perhaps, even more innocent than my actions. Your mate was in danger. Mine was merely being... propositioned--which she would have rejected, had I paused one moment to consult."
Demaren did not respond to that. He sighed and gave Friend a final pat, then he rose quickly and turned to look at Ashling. He was surprised to see Ponce giving her hair a soft nuzzle.
"Ponce, you surprise me more and more each day."
Ponce straightened up quickly, piercing Demaren with his blue eyes. "She sighed. I was merely ensuring she was not... dead."
Demaren nodded and smiled.
Ponce closed his eyes and turned away from Demaren. "Do not begin to think I have developed a fondness for this girl. I have yet to even speak with her. Were I a being of emotional attachment, perhaps I would feel an affinity for your situation--but I am not. If I were such a being, there would be a natural desire to protect your mate due to a subconscious association with my own--but I am not. So, please, do not direct your mind down such paths."
Demaren turned away and stretched his wings, "I suppose you're right. If you were an emotional being, you would have most certainly acted rashly in the defense of your own past mate." Demaren gave a strong flap of his wings and launched into the air.
Ponce curled his neck to watch Demaren soar into the rays of the sunrise. His gaze settled on nothing, then rested on Ashling.
When Demaren landed about an hour later, the sun having mostly turned the sky a dazzling blue, Ponce was asleep with his head on Ashling's lap. Larii lay asleep beneath a tree, carefully covered with Samil's coat. Samil himself was nowhere to be seen. Demaren looked around quickly, wondering if he'd abandoned them. He felt a surge of anger, especially when he recalled that Ashling had not been treated. But Samil came back into sight within a short time, soaking.
"Where have you been?"
Samil paused, reddened a little, and rubbed his knuckles. "I found a river and was wasing te tools. Ten I fell in."
Demaren smiled at the clumsy Eryn boy. He shook his head, and yawned. Then he started to peel off the black suit Jain had made him. Once down to the waist, he was surprised to find Samil staring at him. "What?"
Samil jumped, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare. Te Eryn are not so tall as you, and very few of us are as obviously strong." He dropped his head onto his shoulder, "I am, especially, not eiter ting."
Demaren laughed. "That doesn't matter. I can't heal a scrape without leaving a scar, let alone bring a thrashing hop to a calm state--and remove a... a..." He searched for the unfamiliar word.
"Bullet?"
"Yeah."
Samil seemed consoled, and glanced at Larii. "Se as not awoken as se?"
Demaren shook his head and yawned again. Samil seemed to sway on his feet. So Demaren gave Samil a small shove towards the nearest tree, "Get some sleep."
"But I was going to elp te energy girl."
"You aren't touching her without a good amount of sleep behind you, Sam."
"I--Sam? Well--"
"Sleep on your own, or I knock you out."
Samil hurried to the tree and tossed the kit down. He dropped to the grass, rolled onto one side and was still. Demaren laughed quietly, stopping mid-chuckle to yawn again. It was getting ridiculous. He glanced at Ashling, longing to curl up beside her. But he didn't want to interrupt the attachment Ponce was clearly forming for her. So he grudgingly slid into the tree they rested beneath, and slept.

---

Demaren woke late. The sun was past midday, yet it was not the sun through the leaves or the rustling of the trees--it was the soft whimpering of someone in terror. But he was very in tune with the source of the cries, so he was not only awake instantly, but also down from the tree and ready to kill whatever was scaring her.
He did not kill it though. Samil was, after all, only trying to help her. She just didn't realize he was an ally as opposed to an enemy--which he had been the night before. In fact, Demaren nearly laughed when he saw her sadly ineffective attempts at escape, which included wiggling limp noodle arms, failed efforts to roll over, and the ever-effective cringing.
"Please do not be scared!" Samil was looking very frustrated. "I wis you would not make so muc noise. You will wake up te flying man!" He was trying to shout as quietly as possible.
"I am also known as Demaren. Only my closest friends call me flying man."
Samil, proving to have a skittish nature, was startled and dropped what appeared to be a wet towel.
Ashling, though, stopped squirming and looked up at Demaren, her eyes pleading desperately. Demaren smiled, while a sense of rightness crept over him. He knelt beside her, propping her up to lean against him (Ponce appeared to have wandered off). "Don't worry, Ash. He's a good guy. He's going to save you." Demaren smoothed her hair and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
She turned her face into his chest, "You were gone. I was scared."
"Understandable. But Sam's a good kid."
Sam knitted his brow together. "I wis you would not call me a kid. I am not a kid. I am twenty-tree."
Demaren was shocked, but said nothing. Ashling, though, was looking tired again. She blinked heavily, and blinked as hard as she could, forcing her eyes to fly open. Demaren looked at Samil, who was looking concerned.
"Ashling..." Demaren started to say, as she wriggled slightly to stay awake. "If you're tired, then sleep."
She shook her head weakly, but her eyes closed. She pried them open, but they didn't go up more than halfway before dropping again. Drifting off she muttered, "I want to stay with you..."
He smiled, "You aren't going anywhere. Besides, I'm always the one who sticks around wherever you go. So sleep, and I'll stay here."
She gave a little puff of a laugh, and was asleep.
Immediately, Samil reached into his kit to prepare some more strange medical devices. Demaren was tired of trying to understand, so he merely allowed the young doctor to attach a thin tube to her arm in an undamaged spot. The tube led to a clear bag of fluid.
"We just wait for er to become more stable."
"Stable? She isn't stable? I mean, other than the tiredness?"
Samil shook his head, "Er body keeps dropping in temperature."
Demaren looked shocked, and suddenly realized she was like a tiny icicle in his arms, "But she was like fire when I got to her."
"I tink it as to do wit er energy. Se gets ot wen it is flowing. Probably witout it, se gets very cold. Especially after suc weeks of it on all te time."
A certain stiffness came over Demaren when he heard that. "I thought you didn't even know she was there."
Samil shook his head, "I didn't. But in te control room tere was a tart tat sowed information about er daily energy levels. It extended for two weeks."
Demaren winced, "Two weeks? Of sitting in that chair in that dead state?" He didn't feel so bad about killing those scientists. They let it happen and didn't try to help her.
"I didn't realize tings like tat were appening."
"Would you have saved her?" Demaren didn't think Samil had that kind of spunk to him.
Samil looked downcast, "No. I am not so eroic as you. But I would not ave stayed to serve suc men as Entark."
"It's past. It doesn't matter. If you save her now, you'll have done more than I can ever hope to do."
"Tat is te ting, Demaren. I am not certain wat I can do. Se gets so cold and does not stay awake long. I can give er IV's, but se will need to have substantial food as soon as se can. But te colder se gets, te less se will be awake."
Demaren cursed. It was looking to be a futile venture. One he wouldn't be able to give up on until he or Ashling had given their last breath. And the latter was unacceptable.
The best they could do, it was decided, was to try to keep her warm. She was carefully wrapped in as many articles of clothing possible and kept in the sunlight. Friend, already feeling better, though not walking, was perfectly willing to sit with her. But by the time the sun began to set, she was plenty warm. And Samil began to worry even more.
"I do not understand tis. Now se burns up with fever!" Samil threw a melted cold pack (what Samil called it, at least) at a tree with frustration. "I do not know wat to do!"
Demaren clutched at his hair in desperation. He sat beside her as she slept in ill ease. Red skinned and sweating, she breathed heavily and fluttered her eyelids, yet not waking. He couldn't bear it. She was dying and no one could stop it!
He stood quickly, "I need too cool off, myself."
Samil nodded, muttering ideas to himself as he rifled through the medicine kit and glanced continuously at Ashling.
Demaren rushed in the direction Samil had come the day before. He found the river easily, but stopped a couple dozen feet from it when he caught sight of Ponce sitting on a rock at the edge.
"Ponce?"
Ponce tilted his head, but said nothing until Demaren was standing beside him. "I am sorry your mate is dying."
Demaren swallowed with difficulty and nodded.
Ponce sighed, "You and I are very similar. We are both in control of our emotions and our minds. But somehow, we have certain weaknesses in specific areas of our lives."
"Our mates, you mean."
"Yes." Ponce rolled his head slightly, looking up at the sky as it started to show its stars. "It is difficult for us, is it not? The ones we love are lost to us without a thought. Essa was taken from me far sooner than I should have liked. We only produced two offspring, only one of which survived adolescence. The other is grown and has mated herself." He focused his gaze to the water. "Your mate is not taken from you yet, and may not die so soon as mine did. But you suffer the fear of losing her, while I never felt such things."
"I don't understand what you're saying, Ponce."
"Essa died suddenly, Demaren. She somehow fell from a tree and was lost to me forever." He paused. "I am not sure what I intend to say to you. I fear for your happiness."
Demaren laughed bitterly and dropped his head into his hands, "I hadn't felt happiness until I met Ashling. I felt contentment and satisfaction, but never happiness. She is my joy. If she dies, I will probably follow soon after." Ponce shifted suddenly, but Demaren did not look at him, he merely raised his head to the sky. "I wouldn't kill myself, Ponce. But I feel... I feel there would be nothing left to tie me to this life. She keeps me here. She has brought me back from death and eternal dreams."
"And if she lives?"
Demaren felt tears spill down his face, unwanted, "I would never leave her again. I would never let her be alone."
"Then go be with her now. She is awakening." Ponce rose himself and slunk gracefully back to the camp.
Demaren rolled to his feet and ran back to Ashling.
She was, as Ponce said, stirring. But now she was pale, and Samil looked even more frustrated and confused as ever.
"Sam, what's--"
"Se is freezing again! Wy is tis appening?" Samil was trying to wrap her warmly again.
Ponce, who Demaren had hurried past, slipped into the camp. "It will keep happening, I think. She will be hot again soon."
Demaren turned, speaking aloud, "And then cold again? How long will it go on?"
"Either until she dies, or until it tapers out. It must do one or the other." Ponce was smelling the air around Friend.
So Demaren brushed Ashling's still damp hair, "One or the other..."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she peered at him. "What?"
Demaren sighed deeply, "Get better."
"I'm fine." She said between the chattering of her teeth.
"A little cold, right?"
"J-just a little."
He nodded in response, before adding, "Did you know you had an insane fever twenty minutes ago?" He felt deadly serious right now, so there was no hint of a smile.
"N-no?"
"Well you did." He turned suddenly to her and kissed her roughly, and then added, "Stop it."
She tried to push the various blankets and clothing articles off of her, but only managed to get one arm free. And the effort drained her of energy. Still, she managed to lightly drag her fingertips down his chest before her hand fell limply.
He kissed her again, more gently, and stood up. He turned slightly, "Don't fall asleep yet." And he disappeared from sight.
He reappeared a short number of minutes later, to find Ashling valiantly fighting off sleep. She was looking a little flush, already.
"I thought you didn't like kissing me?" She whispered from her warm cocoon.
He crouched beside her again, smirking, "Which only proves to me that you surely cannot read my mind." He held a bowl in his hand and tilted it towards her. "You know what this is?"
She winced, "I'm not hungry for mushy..."
"Too bad." He said, spooning some towards her.

---

For three days, Ashling's body temperature shot from blue-lipped freezing to flushed skin fever, every thirty minutes or so. Demaren, figuring she usually awake every few hours, was always ready with mushy food (which she was less than enthusiastic to enjoy). And for three days, they travelled slowly towards the ocean and Jeron's boat. And they found, with some unexpected pleasure, that the further away from the Eye they got, the more healthy Larii became. They reached the beach late the third day and camped in the sand, hoping to see Jeron's boat in the sunlight.
But on the fourth morning, Demaren woke extremely early when Samil shouted. At first, Demaren thought an Erynese patrol had found them, but instead, Samil was on the verge of tears. And smiling.
"Se is barely ot!"
Demaren blinked, not comprehending. "She's in transition again?"
Samil shook his head, "No! Se as been barely ot for two ours!"
"What!" Demaren dropped down beside Ashling in the little nest they settled her into every night. Still pink in the cheeks, she was distinctly cooler than her usual high, but still definitely with a fever. "Is she... is she getting better then?"
Samil shrugged, still trying to contain his glee and confusion. Larii appeared from behind Samil, suddenly, poking her head over his shoulder to peer at Ashling. Samil, who would usually have been startled and fallen over, stiffened.
Demaren cocked an eyebrow at him before Ponce whispered sleepily, "She has decided she likes our Erynese boy. And I suspect, from his physical reactions, that he would not be adverse to the idea."
Demaren laughed. He laughed so hard, he started to cry. He hugged Ashling, feeling she would be all right, and felt relieved. He curled close to her, breathed her the scent of her hair deeply, and fell into the first truly restful sleep he'd had in over a month.