The two of them walk for a while, always sticking to the side-roads that lead through the forest and then ducking into the woods occasionally. In all honesty, Canta has no idea where they’re going.
After some discussion during the morning, they realize that they both have no idea where the Demon-King actually, physically is. Canta does know, however, that there are multiple towns and cities further away. Many of them are not associated with the church. But those would be the first places their pursuers would be going to look, so Canta simply suggests that they never stop at the closest settlements. Rather, they should skip them and go to the second closest ones. This makes sense in his head.
Alleluia counters that those would in all likelihood be checked as well. It didn’t matter where they went around here. They had to get further away. Everything was going to be watched. If the conspiracy was as serious as they assumed, no place would be safe.
There’s also the larger problem of them both being easily recognizable. Thousands of people who live in the capital city have seen his face, and Alleluia isn’t exactly able to blend in. Even if they covered up the exposed spaces on her mechanical body, there’s still the matter of the crank, which is hard to explain away.
So for now, they walk.
And walk.
And walk.
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The day passes, and before the night is able to fall, the two of them find themselves hiding down in a small gulch as a group of riders, mounted on the Anqas ride by them through the forest.
Canta is barely able to contain himself as he sees a fat, wiggly-worm burrowing through the overturned soil of the roots of the fallen tree, which they’ve ducked behind. Alleluia restrains him, covering his mouth. Thankfully, for his sake, gently. She seems to have been learning to restrain herself a lot, which he does appreciate. He feels like he has too.
He really wanted that worm, though.
With sad, distraught eyes, he watches it wriggle away and vanish back into the soil.
During the night, there is little rest to be found, as the two of them decide to keep moving.
Tired, hungry, and frustrated, Canta does his best not to be a jerk the next day. Though this results in him simply not saying much of anything at all the entire day, as the two of them walk through more endless greenery.
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The night comes.
Canta lays on his back, his dry mouth open, as he stares up at the bright, star-filled sky above the world. “Hey?” asks Canta, staring at the stars.
“Yes?” asks Alleluia.
“What are we going to do if the Demon-King is up there?” asks Canta, dead tired, lifting a hand and pointing to the sky. They are stopping for only a couple of minutes, in order for him to recuperate. So this is just some silly-talk for him to keep himself awake.
“Hmm…” Alleluia thinks for a moment, apparently willing to entertain his fantasy, which he appreciates. “We’ll just have to wait for it to rain, so he’ll fall down with it.” Canta nods in silent agreement. This makes sense to him. Grunting, he gets up, dusting off his legs. Holding a hand out to Alleluia, he helps her up, and they keep on moving. Although, his ‘helping her up’ is simply holding her hand while she gets up on her own. He isn’t strong enough for that just yet.
His stomach growls, almost painfully. Canta, despite knowing the futility of it, has the oddest urge to bite Alleluia. He hasn’t succumbed to his deep-hunger in a while now.
This gets worse as the night goes on. Eventually, he takes the lead and walks several steps ahead of her, despite his lethargy, not because of some dominant personality trait or any over-blown masculinity or anything like that. He’s just hungry and watching her walk ahead of himself for hours is giving him bad ideas.
Sure, she’s mostly metal. Mostly. But there are pieces of her that aren’t. Her synthetic skin. She has a lot of it. Surely she can spare a little, especially in the areas that are obscured by her dress?
She doesn’t understand why Canta wants her to hit him. But she obliges nonetheless, after he explains to her that it’s different when he specifically asks her to do it.
“Oh, it’s like the stepping thi -”
“Don’t talk about that in - !” Canta stops himself, looking around and realizing that they aren’t in the church anymore. “- In a forest!”
She stares at him, rolling her fingers to get them ready. “What’s the forest got to do with anything, my kinky cupcake?”
“Never mind. Just do it, okay?” sighs Canta, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes. “Please.” The first thing he feels is a soft kiss on his cheek.
The second thing that he feels is the crack of thunder, shooting through his body as he flies through the underbrush.
The third thing he feels, as the bones in his face regrow from his malnourished body, is the undressed foot lightly stepping on his back and holding him down into the dirt. She either gravely misread his intentions or he did hers.
Either way, Canta sighs, laying there for a while, and as he does, he sees a wiggly-worm rise up out of the ground before himself. His eyes grow wide, frantic; his stomach growls; a hot burn runs through his body as he begins scrambling with his arms and legs, trying to get to it. But the more he struggles, the harder Alleluia presses him down.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Canta watches, his heart breaking, as the wiggly-worm wriggles away, vanishing into the soil from whence it came.
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By the time the day comes anew, they find a small orchard which is nested in the forest, protected by little more than a waist-high wooden fence.
Canta at this point has lost most of his self-control, save for the sliver of himself that keeps him from trying to eat his favorite person in the whole world — after himself, that is. He breaks free from Alleluia’s restraining arms, which have held him since ‘the biting incident’ and he barrels towards it. Scrambling up a tree with a dexterity that he didn’t even know he had, he sits there on a high branch, gorging himself on apples.
“Isn’t stealing a sin, fruity-cake?” asks Alleluia.
Canta’s eyebrow twitches. She’s really insistent on this pet-name game of hers. He sighs, biting into one of the many apples that he has plucked from the tree. It's fair enough that she’s willing to play his games, so it’s only fair that he does the same.
Sweet Red Apple ~100g Calories: 52 Protein: 0.3 g Fat: 0.2 g *Carbs: 14 g Fiber: 2.4 g Sugars: 10 g
“They’ll understand,” says Canta, swallowing his mouthful of apple. He takes off his dirty shirt. “I’m the sin-eater.”
“Oooh~!” chimes Alleluia in a joking manner, leaning over the fence to look at him as he gets undressed.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he mutters down to her, putting his shirt on his lap as he sits on the branch. He fills his shirt up with as many apples as he can, and then he eats another few for good measure, wolfing them down like a starving animal.
Finally satisfied, at least in a sense, he looks around, having come to a sudden realization.
“Come on, let’s keep going,” says Alleluia.
Canta blinks, staring down at her. What should he do? Should he admit it? Or just pretend like he did it on purpose? It will hurt a lot if he falls. But, what else is there to do? As Canta looks down at her expectant face, he knows that he can’t admit to it, even if it’s dumb, and she probably doesn’t care at all.
The thing is, he can’t climb trees. He has no idea how he even got up here.
He tosses the bundle of apples down and then jumps. As he falls, the wind rushing through his greasy hair, he can’t help but wonder if apple trees haven’t gotten bigger since his last life? These are really, really big trees.
Good thing he practiced how to fall. Canta lands masterfully as he does a slight roll over his shoulder. Alleluia claps excitedly for him, like she had done during their training sessions.
“Great job,” smiles Alleluia, helping him up. It makes him feel a bit wiggly when she does so. He isn’t sure what to do with the feeling.
He supposes that that desire overrides his sensible reasoning, just as much as the deep-hunger does. But this feeling is worse. The hunger he can stave off by snacking. This… emotion, this warm, complex sensation that he has, there is no way to get rid of it or even to lower the flames. It burns brightly in him, no matter how he feels about it.
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A little later, Canta turns her crank, while she complains that he has sticky fingers from the apples.
For the rest of the day, they keep walking, and then finally, the forest comes to an end.
“I fucking hate forests,” says Canta, falling down to the grass with his back against the tree. He grabs the last apple from his shirt. Shaking it out, he puts it back on, not bothering to button it closed as he bites into the apple. “Never again.”
Sweet Red Apple ~100g Calories: 52 Protein: 0.3 g Fat: 0.2 g *Carbs: 14 g Fiber: 2.4 g Sugars: 10 g
“It wasn’t so bad,” says Alleluia. “Besides, didn’t you suggest we live in a forest a few days ago?”
Canta sighs. “I changed my mind. Let’s do the ocean instead,” he jokes.
“I’ll get rusty.”
“How about the swamp?”
“Too humid. It’s bad for my complexion.”
Canta thinks. “A mountain?”
“Snow would melt in my gears,” replies Alleluia, shaking her head.
Canta bites into the apple again, lifting a finger to point at her with the same hand that holds the fruit. “You know, maybe you really are a delicate noble-woman,” he concedes.
“I told you!” replies Alleluia, crossing her arms. “I’m a refined lady with high standards, Can-ta,” she says, her head moving once with each enunciation, as a smile grows on her face.
“This is the first time I’m seeing any of that,” he fires back. She shoots a glare his way, her smile having vanished immediately. He lifts his hands, surrendering.
Looking off into the distance, he notices that there is a small collection of houses to his right. They are barely visible, sitting far, far out on the horizon. It’s hardly even a village. It looks more like a tiny settlement than anything else.
As he bites into the last half of his last apple, he notices a faint, weak, ever so subtle smell that is carried to him by the winds, as if a beckoning finger were alluring him to make the bad decision. There is a sin there. Nothing gigantic, but big enough to be noticeable.
His stomach growls. He takes a bite, nearly finishing his food.
Something wiggles in his mouth.
Stopping himself mid-chew, Canta looks down at the half of a wiggling-jiggling wriggly worm sticking out of the last piece of apple in his hands.
The other half is in his mouth.
He looks at it for a second and then, indifferent if not even pleased, swallows.
Fruit Worm ~100g Calories: 223 Protein: 18g Fat: 8 g *Carbs: 8g Fiber: 2.5g Sugars: 4 g