I regretted my feebleness.

Truly, I did.

Soon after the explosion, from whatever alchemical device the humans had deployed, I succumbed to exhaustion, to the weakness, and though my state may have been justified by the severe wounds I had received earlier, it was still a failure. I succumbed. I passed out. Consciousness slipped away from my grasp.

Had I maintained awareness, then I might have further cemented my position within the group.

However, despite how I loathed my own weakness, passing out did have benefits, at least in that whatever sapience governed the mikuya might not be offended by my contributions to the humans.

I had, afterall, been indisposed.

I was in no way responsible for whatever actions the humans had taken.

Once again, I awoke to a sway, though a different gait than when Kate held me. Warmth and fur pressed against my cheek. I cracked my eyes open. Larissen was carrying me.

Concerningly enough, I did not hear any others walking nearby.

I put two and two together quickly.

“What… what happened to the others?” I asked, a soft murmur.

I continued to relax, Larissen’s corded muscles and bristly fur giving comfort against the pain.

“This one does not know, but most likely the humans survived. The alchemist was more effective than assumed.”

“And we left them?” I asked.

After a pause, he eyed me derisively from up high. “Yes,” he scoffed. “Of course these ones left the qavi.”

“But… why?” I asked. “They had freed you…”

“The qavi already broke their word once. Foolish to trust.”

“-but they increased our chances of survival,” I argued. “They had supplies.”

“Again, foolish. Their rations were nearly depleted.”

“Safety in numbers?” It was taking a lot out of me just holding my head up and meeting his gaze.

Now, a hint of amusement entered Larissen’s voice. He was arguing to humor me, I was certain.

“At the cost of traveling slow and calling the mikuya to our location,” he explained.

“But they won’t trust us if we encounter them again!” And while the chance might be slim, we had already stumbled upon each other by happenstance once. Doing so another time was not out of the question. I was preparing my logic to refute what I assumed would be his counterargument, when he offered an unwelcome fact.

“Humans never trust Kaiva. To think otherwise is possible is foolish… though, cub…” he licked his sharp teeth and narrowed his feline eyes. “Your love for these enslavers is worrisome.”

That, and my exhaustion, gave me pause. It was clear that I would not sway him from his opinions. And while he was somewhat amused, his mood and the argument could easily sway into something worse, which considering I was at his mercy currently, was suboptimal. In fact, cementing relations between him and I should be of the highest priority.

He continued walking, carrying me, and I collected my thoughts. In the end, I supposed it all failed to matter in the slightest. Without supplies, I was back to where I started–worse, arguably, as I now lacked an arm.

He seemed content to silence, and for a while I permitted it. But without else to do, except rest, I decided to begin building up our relationship. And so I started.

“Why did you bring me?” I asked. “You could have escaped, traveled more quickly. But you risk yourself to carry me. Why?”

This question was asked carefully. As he answered it, he would look for reasons to justify his action, which would both provide me leverage, and also firm of those very same reasons within his own mind. Afterall, most people, when asked ‘why’ they were doing something, would not immediately stop. It was not as though he would drop me then and there. Well, he could, but it would not fit with my model of him.

He licked his lips and his far too sharp teeth. His tongue appeared raspy, though thicker and longer than a cat’s tongue, at least in proportion to the rest of his face. He chuffed, but the emotion behind the exhalation was unclear.

“This one saved the kit to honor my sister,” he said.

We continued for some time, backtracking the way we had come with the humans. The gorge was one way, for the most part, though an ambitious climber might scale the walls. And the rough walls were hardly uniform, with the crevasse the Alchemist found as an example. But because of the limited paths available, pursuers could easily follow.

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“What will we do?” I asked, emphasizing the ‘we,’ the cohesiveness.

“This one is unsure.” He paused, but looked like he had another thought on the cusp of his lips. I had nothing better to do, but I did not want to rush him. And his gait was beginning to rock me back under. I worried for my health, if I still could not remain awake. “But… but suggestions would be welcome.”

I wondered why he paused. Did he consider a lack of planning to be a weakness? I had not thought that the Kaiva showed a cultural disposition to not owning up to one’s shortcomings, but I lacked enough data to know for sure. It might also have been that he had to think about it, and realized that he came up short. Either way, I had a few ideas to leverage this.

“Do we still want to go south?” I asked, attempting to take stock of Larissen’s own frame of mind.

“There is no point,” he said, unknowingly mirroring my own thoughts earlier.

Cast adrift then, purposeless, apathetic. Understandably, depression.

I knew how to deal with my own moods, but if he also felt this way, then this would add difficulties. But, it also added an opportunity, if I was willing to grab it. Because while depressive moves largely decreased functions, it also gave me a lever, especially as I suspected that I knew the originating cause: grief. And that could be exploited.

“Then, perhaps we could make a detour?” I offered.

“This one listens,” he said, an ear twitching to prove his words.

“Before we head south, maybe we should aim for revenge?”

“Against the humans?” he asked.

“Against a particular human.”

“The Alchemist,” he spoke the word with a hiss, some of that same anger from before, returning once again.

While revenge as a whole would be unproductive, we needed to get off the beaten path, and the only way I knew to do that would be following the crevasse. The best way to get Larissen to carry me into the crevasse would be vengeance. And besides, I wanted to re-arm with more vials. And perhaps, interrogate the man.

“The alchemist could not have gotten too far,” I asserted, though I had no way of knowing for sure. But the important part was that Larissen lacked a means of verification as well.

“The human would have at least a days’ head start,” Larissen said, thinking out loud more than anything. “And the path taken is uncertain.”

“We could track him,” I said, before blinking the tiredness from my eyes, or trying to.

“His scent may be covered by an alchemic. It was how the human snuck upon these ones in the first place. How, how the human captured my sister…” he finished softly.

That made sense, and I had meant to ask about that before. If the alchemicals could cover up scents, then that would be useful to remember. But even then, his choice of passages would be limited.

“We did not come across him in the gorge,” I said. “And he would not have snuck past the Jungleborn.”

“This is not so certain, but is likely all the same.”

“Which means he probably went further into that crevasse. It might even be a dead end.”

“It might also open up into many pathways.”

“But we wouldn’t know unless we tried,” I insisted. Truthfully, if the crevasse did split, then it would put us in an even better position, at least so far as avoiding any pursuing parties.

After a pause, he relented with a nod. “This is true,” he said.

“These ones will pursue our prey. But until these ones find him, Kitten should rest. Your strength cannot recover otherwise.” his eyes lingered on my stump, and on the muddy footprint marring my top.

I resisted the call of sleep for another fifteen minutes. And calling it sleep would not be accurate. A deep set weariness radiated from my bones. Keeping my eyelids open was a chore. Even breathing felt strained, like not enough oxygen was in the air. My muscles still felt weak and rubbery, and when I focused on my arm, to read my Mark, I found my hand trembling. At last, Larissen softly chided me, and I listened to him, trusting him to get us to the crevasse, and I shut my eyes.

I regained awareness periodically, but it was like a fog, drifting in and out, blurry and out of focus. I heard the wind, I heard paw steps, and Larissen’s chest. I could not help but wonder at all the decisions leading up to now. I could not deny that I felt regret. So many other decisions could have been made. Kissen might still be alive for one. Or Nick, if I had been firmer in my demands.

Honestly, I was lucky Larissen held no blame for me over Kissen’s death. It was my decision to negotiate with the humans after all; we could have ambushed them instead, when the humans first stumbled upon us in the cave. Not that an ambush would have worked, especially not since they had the Alchemist at the time. But even after that, had I abandoned the humans at the same time the Kaiva did, then I likely would have helped them escape the alchemist’s trap… or, I would have been captured along with them. It was hard to say, impossible to say, at least logically.

But grief was seldom logical.

I was lucky that he was refraining from blaming me. Not everyone would, in the same position.

The next time I drifted to awareness, I had a thought: what if he separated me from the humans to take advantage of me, or to behave maliciously. My eyes slammed open, my fur standing on end. It was still daylight, and Larissen glanced down.

“We are nearly there,” he said.

I nodded, wanting to believe him, and lacking any other really good choice. It left me uncomfortable. I hated, hated, being at someone else’s mercy. And Larissen might not be that stable. But I could only continue with my ploy, no other options existed, at least not then.

“To the crevasse?” I asked, looking around and failing to recognize much of the landscape. Though the gorge looked far different between the light of day going one direction, and the gloom going the other.

“Yes–” he said, with a slight hitch of his breath while angling to the side. “-can you not smell it?”

There was a caustic smell, and of copper and something worse.

“I can.”

“It is best if this one heads further in alone,” he said.

I resisted the idea at first, but I had little choice in the matter, except to find a suitable place, in a corner, almost an alcove, that was full of windswept dust and lichen.

“How long will you need?” I asked, having a faint idea of what he was planning. His sister’s corpse was still there, at least as far as we knew. Though it was possible that someone moved it since.

“This one knows not. Wait here,” he commanded.

That would be a dangerous precedent to allow him to set.

“Don’t take too long,” I said, partially resisting, and hopefully preventing the precedent from hardening like concrete.

“This one will take as long as required,” he said. And with that, he left me and entered the crevasse on his own.

I took another nap.