(It's) Always There - Ch. 08

It made her complaint feel more and more inessential and quibbling every time the thought recurred, though the mountains' absence panged, nevertheless. West Tennessee was beautiful, she didn't forget that, but, as she was reminded so constantly, it was also very flat. So many kinds of trees, bushes, flowers, and fuzzy creatures scampering about, less and less ways to see them. No more rolling vistas, wooded peaks taller than she could really conceptualize, or treks on weird terrain, only... flat. Basic geography told her it would happen, as did many days of watching the land slowly level out, yet... She didn't want to make a deal of it and say, "It's terrible the dirt is easy to walk on," all because she didn't have some extra variation... yet she couldn't help but sense the lifelessness of it. It was all so same-y; no direction offered any sense of newness, like bars trapping her in a cell...

That's stupid. She shouldn't make a deal of it.

... A couple inches from where she picked at, a bug stepped onto Navy's sleeping bag - a leaf-green praying mantis. Navy kept still, not wanting to startle it. Info from an encyclopedia page was swiftly dug from memory, how many segments were on the long abdomen thing behind its upper body telling Navy - who was regrettably unable to note more - that the mantis was a boy.

The large bug with multiple stick-thin limbs approached tentatively, Navy gradually offering her hand for it to climb on. She whispered to encourage him, "I know mantis ladies would hurt you, but I promise not to," which did the trick. His weight was noticeable and a little strange, Navy only having experience with bugs that felt like no more than a tiny wad of paper. The mantis didn't seem bothered by her slow movements and incessant inspection.

In a little while, the bug's sticky feet carried it up Navy's arm, the tiger watching him crest her shoulder then feeling his calm skitters to the neck, him finally perching on the top of her noggin. Some testing of how much movement she could get away with revealed he didn't much care, and she let him do... whatever it was his bug-brain intended (the goal was probably food-related). Ceding a license to do as he pleased was the least she could give the little man: his environment was harsh, his body thin, and time unforgivingly short - compared to a person's, anyway.

... On second thought, mantids actually had it pretty good for a bug. Still bad, but, in fairness, achieving old age at twelve months was markedly better than most insects had to deal with, they were big, strong, fast, had great sight, and could fly, though they didn't often do so. Big 'ole heads made them smart, too... One could even say they were intelligent and agile enough to not trip in the one spot in all flat-as-shit Tennessee that was dangerous to.

Regardless, he'd had enough of Navy and her camouflage-unfriendly orangeness, so pitter-pattered down the tiger's back and across her pants, tickling pinpoints from roost to departure. The leaves and brush swallowed him, only vague motion to show his presence followed by the ambient sway of things hiding where he went.

Leaves crunched, and Navy flinched.

Hane got up, the tear on his clothes professionally stitched and Case working on his own fissure. Her eyes locked downward as the commander approached, backpack in hand, evening light putting a shadow where Navy fiddled with the seem of her sleeping bag. He said from above, "Get up; there's something you can do."

"... Alright." She did as requested, then probed, "What... What is it?"

He retrieved a shovel from his bag and unfolded it while instructing, "Go a few paces out that way and start digging a hole away from any roots. Make it deep enough to cover a doe, and make sure you pile the dirt to the side." Given the tool, Navy was told, "I'll be watching, and you should too."

They parted, a spot was found not far with the two men unobscured, and...

... Navy stuck the shovel into the ground and stared, looking it up and down. How was she supposed to dig with only one arm? The thing was around arm length so she'd have to get down pretty low; the soil was compact, but not very; her implement had an easily grippable handle... but she had no second hand - least not a usable one... Her task was set, though, and it was at least theoretically doable, or else why would Hane appoint her as the hole-digger?

Stomping the spade in until it properly broke ground, it became evidently impossible to lift the shovel with one arm while not spraining or pulling part of herself, so she... eventually and awkwardly put her right bicep under the stem, supporting the hoist while (hopefully) avoiding another injury. The tiger's joints strained, more pressure on her arm and back than she'd like, crackling earth coming unseated with great effort and gritted teeth.

Clumps and particles flung into the air, raining onto her as she regained control of the tool flying up with them, stinging eyes, stifled coughs, and a sprinkling of brown on her pelt as a reward for "success". She felt - frankly - disgusting enough as is, so didn't appreciate the grains of stuff clinging to her even after wiping off. A hole was in the ground, though... and the scoop went in once more. Her position adjusted to where it seemed to best work last try, the same tension was put on but prepped to stop. It worked, and no face-full met her. The unsettled dirt was cautiously put aside, deliberately starting a pile instead of dumping the spade to where its haul came from oddly difficult, wobbles from the unintended grip as the main culprit.

Just... many more swings to go. Didn't look like much for all the sweat already on her brow.

Another notch; a pile grown; another puncture. Much easier with good technique. Body wouldn't be happy about it - she could tell that easily. Navy would manage, though.

Another notch. More dirt. Another puncture. Another notch. More dirt. Another puncture. Another notch... She had a line carved out. Another puncture. Another notch. More dirt... She tossed dirt into the pile. She had the dimensions. Another puncture. Another notch. More dirt...

... She made a rectangle a few inches deep. The mound was sizeable. Another puncture. Another notch. More dirt... Navy kicked once at the shovel and scooped the dirt right out. The same didn't happen when she tried again, but the act did get a bit faster. Another puncture. Another notch... Another scoop. Bigger pile...

... Another layer. Another puncture. Her arm hurt. Another notch...

... Another layer. Another puncture. More dirt...

... Navy was almost to her knees in the ground...

... Another layer...

... Another removal...

...

..."I'll take over."

Navy whipped around and swung. Red caught the shovel before it struck his side. It was dusk... and his shadowy face didn't seem bothered.

"Out, then. Thanks for starting."

She let go, then climbed out, the fox silently descending afterward and not compensating whatsoever for the bloody gash on his calf. Next to the harvested corpse of a young doe, she looked to the others cooking its meat under the tarp.

You're supposed to apologize for hurting someone. So, the tiger quietly interrupted Red, and told him, "Uh... S-sorry for tripping and making you catch me. It was stupid and shouldn't have happened."

Red spoke plain, "You said that already," then continued his work. The man harbored no interest to talk about it, but the intent of his mannerism wasn't obvious. He was left alone.

Her place by the fire had tepid warmth against the cooling atmosphere, the heat-source's exhaust gathered and released as to leave no trace, Navy crisscrossed and nothing-doing to the muffled tune of meat and fat sizzling. When Hane offered a meal, Navy waved it off and said, "No thank you, I'm not hungry."

"You are," is all the man replied. He was waiting.

"... Okay," Navy agreed.

The chunk of venison was nibbled on; expectedly, it tasted of nothing more than meat. Night finished setting in as the tiger ate choosily, putting her meal down regularly and wiping its grease off on her clothes. Food was food, Navy just wasn't that hungry. The work hadn't physically affected her much, really, though there was a bruise-like section above her right elbow where the shovel's handle pressed in countless times, and it was sore to touch. Doing something with her arms again sort of nulled the body-ache - maybe she'd regret it in the morning.

She couldn't see anything anymore, except for a peek of yellowish light that got through when Hane messed with the firebed, illuminating his crouched figure. The flap closed, leaving everywhere black. It sounded like Hane drew his weapon, and sat against a tree, footsteps on dry leaves she assumed signaling Red was done burying the animal.

... After one more small bite of the slab of flesh, its remainder was set aside to be eaten later. Navy wanted to lie down, so, protective vest undone, she settled atop the polyester and looked skyward. The stars didn't shine. The treetops were too thick, as were the clouds. It was only dark.

There was nothing around to get in the way of her sleeping. Her eyes could close, which they did, and the rustlings of nature would take Navy away to slumber - an unconsciousness with or without dreams, but inspired by tranquility, nonetheless. She would think of nothing, and sleep. It would come soon, and calmly. Navy hugged around her waist, breathing steadily, in and out, perceiving only herself, and the wind, and the tree near her, and imperfections of where she lied. She would think of nothing, and sleep soundly...

She'd breathe slow, and think of nothing.

Holding something usually helped, so Navy took her backpack and did just that, squeezing it close. With that, rest would follow; all that needed to be done was closing her mind and drifting away...

... Dozing off had only come in short, unintentional naps for the last several days, but that night would be different. She'd be fine. It would be fine. She would relax, and think of nothing. Total blankness. Total black. Then, maybe her dreams would be kind. Such alternate realities hadn't come about in so long, and they used to be so vivid...

Something broke in the woods behind her eyes. It couldn't be seen anyway. Navy hugged tighter.

The forest had animals in it. It had people. It had things that pretended to be them... But they weren't nearby. They were in the middle of nowhere, so no one was close. No one could do anything, and she was safe. They... They were with her, only a few feet away...

An intermittent pressure beat against her ribcage from within; another was slower, yet it was wider. Navy would think of nothing, and go to bed. All there was to do - all there was that ought to be done - was unwind... but breathing deepened, anyway.

Navy locked her eyes shut, forcing a stillness into all she had control over. No movement. No expressions. The slow burden on her eyes would come, as would the wane in alertness, if only she was patient, waiting for sleep to take her - nurturing and encouraging it to... until something else wouldn't let her. The tarp moved, surely to tend its contents... but a noise could mean anything. She didn't know these people. These men were strangers. They went unseen... and they were moving.

Eyes darted under the tiger's lids. She couldn't lie still so opened them all the way, and looked to the fire. Hane was there, stood at full height, weapon reflecting in the vague light that made anything within the range of her senses, a man's body so powerful it couldn't all be seen, his face stoic, strict, and uncaring. He closed the window of light, and was gone.

For five seconds, Navy ignored the stuttered sounds of her breath, the lurch beneath her chest, the scream in her veins, and closed her eyes. She swallowed the lit flare, letting it melt and scar her insides... up to when a little whimper fought its way into the open. Another got out as she scurried to her feet, clutching her maw to silence with one arm and holding tight what was hers in the other, reckless steps catching on roots and brush as she went into the night, away from where she couldn't be anymore.

Shoulders tensing as he spoke, Hane uttered to her, "Don't go far."

The tiger bumped and scraped against all kinds of things, but kept walking. The distance was unknown. Her surroundings were unknown. She was just walking, and keeping her mouth shut. But eventually her legs didn't want to move anymore; her everywhere hurt, stings and pins of weariness from inside to out. The next section of bark that grinded her shoulder was the last, body shuddering as she leaned into it, sliding into a rumpled heap on its roots. The moment she sat still, and through its own devices, her heart of hearts was not poked or pierced, but stabbed, and the blade contested to rip her in half, its form an unremitting wail that struggled up her being and begged so, so terribly to be let out. And for its efforts Navy hunkered closer to the ground, choking on its strife, biting her good forearm, heaving tangled breaths, wrangling her soul to muteness... and failing.

Blood's taste met her tongue, and Navy bit harder, fangs burrowing past skin. She rocked back and forth, pitiful bleats breaking from time to time.

She didn't want to look at them anymore. But Henrik was dead, as were all the people he lived with, all of them killed, stolen from, and left without burial to rot. She sniffled, imagining Colm's exposed brain, kicked and contorted her legs, seeing Anna's shredded body, and panted harder, feeling Henrik gaze into nowhere, tail without motion. Navy wondered what they were really like when together - just the six of them.

Warm red dripped down her arm.

The room surrounded her again. Everyone in the gang was there, too, Stratton and Carranco looking through the stairwell door with sliced necks, and the unknown man raising his blood-covered front. All of them stared at her; but they were lifeless.

... Someone touched her.

Vision snapped to black again. She yanked her arm to see who was there, recoiling from them and into the tree.

Case was kneeling beside, a small candle lighting him and his hand on her shoulder. The wolf's eyes switched between Navy's own and where she bit herself. He advised, "... I think you should come back, now."

Removing the crimson-stained teeth from her arm - even with caution - left it pulsing, dribbles of the thick liquid yet to subside. Navy, after an extended lull, tried looking him head-on and answered, "... I don't want to."

"... Well, you can't stay out here." He thought a while, then put the candle down between them and sat up to a tree opposite her, only about one yard off. "If it would help, you can ask me whatever you want and I'll answer best I can. Sound alright?"

... Not letting go of her backpack, Navy reoriented to properly face him, wiping all the blood from her lips. He was tolerant and composed, waiting for her answer - unlike normal, the attitude seemed further reaching, like he truly would unbegrudgingly sit there however long Navy required to speak back... But what did she know.

"... Okay. Um..."

There were too many ideas in her head, drifting about in a way that made it hard to think in any way resembling a straight line. Every question was there, just in a blur of imagery and emotion difficult to pick between, yet in no way hard to understand. The words to describe what she wanted to know were all there, but each attempt to make a sentence was lost in the sea of distress both monotone and complicated; Navy hadn't set anything right, but had to drag words out, anyway.

Will to prevent her sniffle or pretend it was something else couldn't be mustered, and Navy asked, "... Why?" The question was soon followed by, "They didn't do anything wrong... From w-what I can tell... at least..." in an ever-quieting voice.

His reply was quick, and matter-of-fact. "They did. We were hostages from the day we met, and that only stopped once they were dead." Navy kept herself from interrupting, letting him continue to explain, "I don't know how much you've thought about what they did, and I don't blame you for taking them at their word; trust is exactly what people like them want, and they're fucking good at getting it. The only reason none of us died is because Hane gave Stratton an opportunity to take all four of us safely, made him think it was his idea, and he took the bait."

Not sure how else to, Navy raised her hand a little to interject. Once he stopped, the tiger asked, "... Uh... I-I don't want to a-accuse anyone, or say something bad, but that sounds like... lying. And we'd only known them for a few minutes then, so..."

"They had a gun to my head. They would've killed me and all of us if things didn't go within their plan. I saw Stratton's finger on the trigger; he was just waiting for a reason."

"... But they thought we took Uriel. That sounds like a fine reason to be careful," she interpreted.

"They did probably think that. But Uriel being out on a 'business trip' was absolutely a lie. They - Colm included - never said a word more about it, and I can't imagine a single thing worth the risk. Stratton wanted to convince Hane to come along, and thought he'd be stupid enough to believe him on faith alone. Odds are, Uriel was taken while on a hunting trip with the injured guy, the other was left for dead, and they were sent to track the four that took him."

Navy shifted in place. "Maybe... they were afraid of what you guys would do, so went along with it. 'Cause you... Uh... 'Cause Hane still lied first, and after they knew it wasn't us that took him."

"We were on our knees, and they had automatic weapons. Maybe we could get one, but we'd lose. Easily. And doesn't Stratton lying to a hostage just prove Hane right?"

"... Okay... But that's not... They never did anything after that first part, and j-just 'cause it's not likely doesn't mean they couldn't do business with other people. That's not proof, just... probability."

He thought a moment. "... I don't mean this in a dismissive way - I really don't - but... you could barely walk. When we took breaks or camped, you could hardly stay awake. The whole point is that they can talk without you even knowing, and we're lucky to have people who have lived through enough of their bullshit to tell what they're saying. And I don't just mean Hane and Red have been around other scum, they've been around these ones specifically. They, even when outnumbered, still ripped Melanie off just because they could, and thought they got away with it."

... The tiger stirred uneasily. "... That... That was a long time ago, though. That's still not... They could've changed, and... i-i-it doesn't... prove anything about them right now."

His response was quick, "They didn't go back for Uriel, or suggest to," halting not her words, but the idea argued.

... She continued in a retreating voice, "Why would they even want our stuff? They had plenty..."

There was a strange pause from Case; it didn't look like he was annoyed at Navy pushing back, or like he'd been convinced, he just... didn't talk for a bit. His tone apologetic, Case returned, "... Sorry, uh... Could I borrow your backpack for a second?"

She didn't know what that had to do with anything... but gave it up. A naked feeling swept her once there wasn't something to cling to anymore, so Navy hugged her waist again.

Case unzipped one of its front compartments and rummaged. Exactly as she realized what he retrieved, Navy leaned forward at him and blurted, "Don't touch that!"

Lowering her intensity, she clarified nervously, "It's only that... um... I don't want to m-mess with it. He didn't give me it, it's mine now, so... Please be careful."

The sketchbook was taken the rest of the way out, Case telling her, "I won't break it." Opening to the first available page, he started, "There wasn't a good or safe way for me to tell you earlier, but I saw what he was drawing once," and peeled the tape off the personal section of the book, where all Henrik's sketches were.

"Give it back," she demanded. "Nobody's supposed to look in there but him because it's private, and... he's not here anymore, so please just give it back." Navy held out a hand for the book to be returned to, gesturing that he complies. He didn't.

Still extended to take the belonging from Case, Navy said with exasperation, "Look, I... I know... I don't care if he drew pictures of me. I know Henrik liked me, and it's not a big deal. Just please give me his thing back."

The wolf didn't relent, instead putting up the concession, "It's important."

... Though Navy's hand remained out, waiting to accept what he'd taken... that was also all she did. The tiger kept seated as Case flipped through Henrik's book, doing nothing to prevent the invasion of her friend's privacy. Closing her eyes was considered, yet they stayed open. She'd wanted numerous times to see what Henrik had made while they were together.

Case bent it, and showed a single page.

...

She leaned back, fixated on the sketch, its marks numerous to form a detailed style. It was hard to see in dim light, but Navy understood it. It was her, lines on her body. Some of them were... open. And she... She was in a place... And...

Parts of her were missing.

"... Maybe he... He wasn't very good around p-people, and he hadn't met any girls in a l-long time, so... He could have been... confused... and u-u-unsure, and..." Navy was trembling.

Gaze unmoving from her, though she didn't look back, Case stated, "The other sketch - the one facing me - is worse. He didn't like you, and all of them would've done this to every one of us. Our lives would've been the worst, because they'd take their time."

Cold sweat enveloped. There was unrest in her gut. It was fucking vile.

Navy's midsection wrenched on itself, the tiger clasping her belly in its continued spasms. "... Sorry, I-" was all she managed before the surging met the base of her throat, Navy pitching to the side and holding herself a few inches from the ground, soil and leaves dug into by fingertips. It was out of sight, but had imprinted into her eyes. Navy's back arched, stomach constricting, dry heaves filling her mouth with dread until watery, bitter acid splashed out; the image stayed, and more vomit swelled from her innards, repeated, painful strangulations expelling all in her stomach. The palpitations and squeezing of her insides didn't stop once they were empty, the tiger again and again forced to try and violently evict anything that could be for a term that felt it wouldn't end.

In an agony's-worth of time, the retching stopped, Navy breathing heavily. Everywhere hurting was normal, but that instance was so miserable, her muscles so narrowly held together, that she earnestly considered settling into her own puke merely to give her tensed and suffering body a reprieve... But Navy gathered herself, only enough to spit what was left in her mouth into the puddle of excess then groan back to her knees - regret came halfway through it, but was endured.

Case gave her water and some spare cloth for drying; he'd prepared it for when she got back up. "Are you alright?"

Cleaning up, she told him, "... I'm okay. It was just... It was gross."

Navy finished tidying herself... Then, breaking the quiet, she asked, "... If those drawings... mean what you think they do, why didn't anyone tell me? In any way at all would've been better than... nothing."

"... Well, uh..." He took an unusually extended time to think about this one. "... Hane thought it would be too risky to tell you, especially because you don't know really any of the code we use. That, and he didn't think you'd be better lying than not, so it wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. Worked in our favor, overall... except for that, I guess." A gesture was made at her bitten forearm. "Better than being dead, though."

... Awaiting when he'd continue, Navy eventually realized he wouldn't. What he said was more-or-less the explanation she'd expected for why they couldn't then, but she was more talking about after that - every day since. Case had sort of said this earlier, too, so Navy wasn't sure why he'd replied that way... But whatever; she didn't need Case to explicitly say, "Hane thought it best you still weren't told," to extrapolate that's where pressing him would lead to. And if that was true, then... there was something else she wanted to ask instead.

"... I don't know much about you and Hane and how you three... get along, I suppose... but it sounds like a lot of what you said - from what you're doing, to why, and all the odds stuff - is... coming from him, and what he told you. Maybe I heard you wrong, but... What, uh... What I'm trying to ask is... Do you trust what he's saying? A-a-and I don't mean that, um..."

An answer was given before she could think how to soften the question, confidence returning alongside briskness. "I trust him completely. He wouldn't have done this without a good reason, and I wouldn't be with him unless he'd proven that."

Listening intently, she heard nothing but ardent approval, sincere in his own kind of way...

... Case didn't seem rushed, but inquired while she was thinking, "Anything more? We can head back whenever you're ready to."

"Hm? Oh, right..."

Before responding, Navy offered his cloth and thermos. "You probably know already, and I-I tried to not get them dirty, but you should wash these... I think, anyway. And thanks for lending them."

"Sure. Don't worry about it."

The wolf sat by, anticipating when she'd talk... but Navy was pensive, lost in rumination. Henrik's book was next to him, closed.

"I'll put it on the fire when we get back. No sense doing anything else," he noted.

... Yet, a little piece of Navy questioned that. Couldn't there be? There was no harm in not doing that, at least for the sole purpose of preserving something someone made, no matter what it was. There were still conversations in there, too, ones where she and Henrik had gone on and on for paragraphs about whatnot... Then there were the times Navy held it when she tried to fall asleep. Was all of it so worthless that...

Her voice cracked. "... How do I know you're not lying to me?" was a question one of Navy's minds beat her for in the moments after, believing it was the worst thing she could've asked him - or anyone. The other mind, the side that tactfully chose a moment to war with passion and frenzy in the name of blitzing the thought into open air, believed it should have been protested sooner. Neither could guess what he'd say, so she was left vulnerable, the heated argument settling to watch what had just been done.

Unlike normal, her eyes never left him, the tiger breathing shallow and taking in all the quiet language of his almost-still form. To her, he looked...

Case seemed to her like he never had before. He was hurt.

"... I can't..." was all he got out for an uncomfortably long time; yet she knew it was only seconds. "... Yeah. It makes sense you'd think that. I'm... I can't tell you anything that would or even could prove what I'm saying, but none of that was a lie - I believe every word of it. Considering... a lot of things, you have every right to ask."

Navy worked up the courage to say something, hardly planning it out beforehand. "I didn't mean to come off like that - o-or just... like this, in general; I'm good at reading people when they're words, but I'm not so good at it when... Fuck, this is stupid." Blood stopped the girl from covering her ashamed face. "... Um..." All that came to her lips was an apology. "... Sorry I dragged you out here, and I shouldn't have asked that. I don't even know h-how far out I am... I do know you weren't lying, though; I wasn't trying to... suggest something about you."

Gesturing off to the side with a tilt of the head, Case told her casually, "Camp's only a minute that way, so don't worry about having 'dragged' me anywhere. And... I didn't think you meant anything by it - you caught me off guard."

After a moment, Case got up, leaving his things where they were. The wolf offered a hand, suggesting, "Get up, then. That's enough of out here."

The desire to rest for a while more was swallowed, a bad kind of stretch in her knees quickly worked past to unpleasant effect, winces and grunts kept inward as she went to meet him.

They stopped. They were near. Only briefly breaking eye-contact once, Navy told him in as overtly genuine a manner as she could manage, "Thanks... for coming out here and helping me. You didn't have to, so it means a lot that you did."

Proximity meant clarity, and as clear as could be, another emotion she'd never seen on him draped over the wolf's face... and his demeanor as a whole. She didn't understand what it meant.