Only after the words escaped her mouth did Jenny realize what she just said. The rabbit didn’t answer, of course. He kept his pose, lowered to the ground.
Jenny turned in Biscuit’s direction. She didn’t stop; she couldn’t. She passed by the rabbit and picked him up, carrying him in her arms. She couldn’t leave her pet there; the dogs might hurt him.
Biscuit didn’t resist. Jenny had never realized how strange the white rabbit was. Horned Rabbits were infamous for all the dangers of dealing with them. If you weren’t careful, they might skewer you. Biscuit was docile — too docile for a wild rabbit — and small when compared to normal rabbits. That and the horn, or lack thereof. Jenny remembered the old crumbling scroll and the words in it.
Something whistled past her side.
It took Jenny a moment to realize someone just shot an arrow at her. On delayed reflex, she ducked, even if the arrow had already passed her by. She redoubled her pace, head down. She hugged Biscuit, hiding the rabbit from any stray branch that might hurt him. She peeked down at the critter.
The white rabbit flopped boneless on her arms. He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, and didn’t even seem aware of his surroundings. He looked sad, but that couldn’t be. It was just a rabbit.
Jenny’s breath came in labored puffs of ice air. The bag strapped to her back was cumbersome, and the crossbow handle kept jostling her back. She hadn’t had the time to gather water or food before she made her escape from the manor. She didn’t know how long she could keep this up. Her legs were on fire, and the cold air pricked her face. She had a bad case of running nose, and her hands and cheeks stung from the many invisible branches in the darkness.
With each step, her legs protested the moment. The bag, clothes, and armor all felt too heavy now. Each breath sent painful spikes of pain in her chest. Jenny wanted to stop, lay down, and rest. She kept running, the discomfort growing with each passing moment. Around Jenny, the trees all looked the same, as if going in circles, were it not for the people behind her. She needed to figure out where she was and which direction to go.
In front of her, two yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.
“Gloom curse me!” she swore, running in another direction. The woods around the city were tame compared to the rest of the island, but they had their fair share of monsters. Like the ones she heard attacking the livestock, they were terrible creatures that could hide in plain sight.
The chase continued, and the terrain changed, becoming ever more rugged and unfamiliar. Jenny crossed a steep incline, then a rocky outcrop. In a blind panic, she jumped across a small ravine only to fall face-first into a thicket so dense and thorny she had no choice but to find a way around it.
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The voices in the distance rose to cries of surprise, then fear and anger. Howls of dogs and another unknown creature sounded ever more distant while Jenny pressed on. She had to slow her pace. The ground had become so treacherous that a single misstep would send her tumbling into darkness. She took deep, frantic breaths in an attempt to get her bearings.
In front of her, the earth was torn and jagged, crumbling. She didn’t remember hearing about anywhere closer to the city that matched this description. Jenny picked her path with care; the area around didn’t look safe to walk on. She stopped and looked back.
Torchlights flickered in the distance — further than they had been since the start of this madness, but still too close for comfort. Jenny wasn’t sure if she could evade them if she went back. Maybe if she turned straight to the left or right.
With another glance at the still-quiet rabbit, Jenny took another step forward. After a few more minutes, she would cut to the left. She picked a sturdy piece of land amid the treacherous terrain.
The ground shifted and moved. Jenny didn’t have time to escape; she fell into the darkness. She hugged Biscuit against her chest, protecting the frail rabbit with her arms. She hit her head on a rock, and everything after that was a blur of movement and pain.
----------------------------------------
Yuki let herself be carried by Jenny, even if she wanted to stay and fight. It was suicide, she knew, but right now, her depressed mind insisted she lashed back, that she made them pay, that she made them bring back her family. Instead of following illogical wants, Yuki flopped in Jenny’s arms and let the woman carry her. She’d already owned Jenny’s soul and might as well accompany the woman until the end. And end that seemed closer with each moment that passed.
The people and animals in pursuit were ever closer. One even tried to tag Jenny with an arrow in the dark — almost got her, too. Yuki knew this apathy wasn’t normal. She should have been doing her best to help Jenny, or most likely, be so scared that she couldn’t think of anything else. Right now, she just didn’t care. Was this the system messing with her head again?
She smelled a familiar scent — the old lemony one that had taken Bunbun away. Jenny yelped and changed directions. Yuki saw the snakepard's yellow glowing eyes following the woman before they turned toward the bigger ruckus approaching in their wake.
Seconds blurred into minutes and maybe even into hours. Yuki wasn’t really aware of the things around her. She did notice, however, when Jenny fell.
The woman stepped into a dangerous-looking patch of ground, and it broke with her weight. They fell into the darkness, Jenny’s arms tightening protectively around Yuki. Jenny impacted rocks and jagged stones, yelps and whimpers of pain escaping the woman’s throat. She never let go of Yuki, and maybe that was what took Yuki out of her funk. Jenny cared, even if Yuki didn’t know why.
They hit the ground in complete darkness. Jenny groaned but didn’t move. Yuki cried out but couldn’t move, pinned between Jenny’s arms and the ground.
An insistent notification blinked in front of Yuki’s eyes.
You have entered the Emberbind Conclave dungeon.