“We need you to tell us everything that happened.”

“You’re not gonna believe anything I tell you. I told them, they didn’t believe me.”

“Take your time. This is a judgment-free zone. We understand if you can’t.”

“No, not that. It’s just… I learned half an hour ago that they never made it out.”

***

Callista is quiet after Liam finishes cleaning and bandaging her wounds.

Those she allowed him to clean, at least, the superficial ones. She refused to pull back her sleeves and pants legs. Liam had insisted on checking, but she claimed there was nothing to treat, that everything was fine.

Cora pays special attention to Callista’s wince, the momentary tensing of muscles in her neck, as she adjusts her posture, straightening against the tree trunk, to the left of Cora. Liam sandwiches her at her right, though he’s lost in concentration, eyes closed, lips occasionally twitching.

If Cora thought her sling was bad enough, Callista’s bandaged wrists are worse. She can’t bend them at all. Cora tries to pass one end of the blanket to her. It takes four tries, and a little growl developing at the back of Callista’s throat, before she grabs the blanket and stretches it out.

Cora offers the other end to Liam. Once more, he scoots over until their bodies are pressed together. If sharing the blanket together had been a tight, awkward fit before, now it is mortifying, bodies smushed together to spare a little extra space for Callista.

She sits apart, though their shoulders are nearly brushing. Good thing the blanket just manages to cover each of their laps. It’s the three of them shielded by a single blanket against hypothermia.

Or in Cora’s case, sandwiched between two furnaces of warmth.

With the wind picking up and lashing out at everything, Cora tucks her knees into her chest. Liam’s feet poke out from the bottom of the blanket, head tossed back, eyes closed, like he's sunbathing. Callista’s teeth chatter. Her head is turned away. Her curtain of hair sways with the breeze stirring up, revealing her trembling jawline and deep set frown.

Cora nudges her shoulder. No easy task, with her sling, knees, and blanket giving her right arm little room to maneuver. “Callista?”

She stiffens. Her voice barely rises above a whisper. “I just want to go home.”

A dagger buries itself into Cora’s heart. Twists and slashes through the arteries and veins until her chest aches. Liam stops breathing. He nudges her foot, twice.

Better get moving quick. Or are you going to wallow in your own self-pity again?

For once, the Mari-hallucination is right. Cora shuts her eyes and opens them. The world is still cold, impenetrable, and eerie. Even the red moon vanished, plunging them in shadows, just enough moonlight to make out vague shapes a few feet out.

“Me too,” she says, softly.

More than any of them know. Except me, Mari hisses, and Cora ignores the stray thought. Of course Mari knows, but the voice is not Mari, and Mari isn’t here.

Callista is.

Cora drops her hand from Callista’s shoulder, runs along her sleeved arm, and takes her hand. Finally, her head swivels toward her. Her eyes are tearing up, glistening in the faint moonlight.

“I need to tell both of you why I’m here.”

“What? Why?”

Callista slips her hand away. Pained, Cora draws her arm back to her side, only to feel Liam catch her by the elbow, fingers squeezing a warning message.

“Because we’re not alone.”

Callista’s pupils flash purple. Cora yelps, lurching back, half-clambering over his leg. He tenses, all coiled muscle and lethal patience, brimming with lethal energy beneath his stony face, draping an arm protectively over her.

Observing. Calculating.

“Careful,” Liam says. His voice comes out more like a rumble, the warning before earthquakes topple cities or volcanoes erupt in violent glory.

“Sorry. It helps with the stress. I’m sorry,” Callista squeaks. A blink later, the light fades. “I ran a lot. They won’t catch up to me anytime soon, I promise.” She sighs and stares off into the gloom again. “The forest is big, very big, but we’re surrounded by mountains. If we stay here, then they’ll reach me eventually.”

How does she know? But Liam beats Cora to the next question.

“Who are they?” His knife’s handle brushes against her elbow. He’s interesting, Mari says, a note of respect in her imaginary voice. He deserves better than you.

Cora struggles between keeping Liam from pouncing on Callista and keeping her thoughts in check. Shut up! Go away! Shut up!

How can he not trust Callista? He treated her wounds. She'd flinched and whimpered the entire time, on more than one occasion jerking her hand away, though she kept her eyes from lighting up.

And yet, Cora understands.

Don’t trust the girl that almost killed them. Common sense, really, something that slipped through her mind, melted to goo by the painful fact Mari almost became real, not just a critical voice echoing from ear to ear.

“Hunters.” Callista must read the murderous intent in Liam’s posture, because she scoots well outside the blanket’s cocoon, arms shaking. “Transients.”

“Transients?”

“Yes, those monsters. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you the first chance I had, but I was so scared.” Callista curls into herself, hair hiding her face. “I don’t want to go back to them.”

Transients.

Monsters. Of the type so terrifying Callista braved the wilderness, the purple trees, and mutant creatures, rather than face the Transients. Whoever they are, Cora immediately hates them. Callista is a wreck of a girl, clearly devoured of life, left to struggle to survive paying little thought to much else.

No surprise she attacked Cora, then. She worms herself off Liam’s leg and stretches her good hand out, threading her fingers through Callista’s own. She stares, then joins her palm together, hands clasped and a silent pact forged between them.

“It’s okay,” Cora says. No, nothing’s ever okay, ever, is it? Cora ignores the Mari-hallucination. “Tell us everything.”

***

“-then Rhodes got shot and it’s all my fault because I couldn’t do enough for him and Ravi and then I ran.”

Callista bares her teeth. The sound that comes out sounds like a low growl, or maybe a pent-up cry of frustration, forced through teeth clenched so tightly the muscle in her jaw pops out.

Yet, no light rings her pupils. Instead, her eyes glaze over and her shoulders hunch until Cora thinks they might’ve dislocated.

Like a puppet with its strings cut. There is no script Callista follows. No painted emotions or calculated actions to gain Cora's and Liam’s sympathy. This is the real her, broken and washed out in shades of grief, a shivering shadow of the girl she might've once been.

Who she could’ve been.

Too familiar to Cora, being in another place, another time, after the incident and before the box’s discovery. She stares at the blanket, running her fingers over the threaded edges. Wrapping a loose thread around her finger until the circulation cuts off.

“I ran away," Callista whispers. “I ran and ran until I found a node. It should’ve been impossible, and I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true. An Arcego-honest miracle. It’s how I got–” She hiccups, then shakes her head. “How I got here.”

Cora’s head spins at the slew of new words. Endralova. Callista comes from a world called Endralova. Transients. The people who hurt her, and are hunting her down. The Mestessines. Another world, where she fought. Arcego. That word, no idea. Node. A portal?

Once, Cora would’ve spent hours interrogating Callista about details of her world, jotting down names and facts, eagerly waiting to compile them into an online document or spreadsheet for later reference.

This version of Cora is haunted by voices in her head and a conscience that clings to her every action. Every word. She’s made too many mistakes, and the ultimate one doomed her to another world alongside Liam.

No more mistakes. Blood is roaring in her ears. Her heart beats furiously, a gong hammering through her chest.

How, how people, no matter how alien, can be so cruel makes her blood boil.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Liam shifts. “Callista–”

“Please, stop. Don’t say anything. I need a few moments.” Callista’s face is pale, drained of the emotional fury that consumed her as she spoke about the moments leading up to her fight. “Thank you.”

“We got lucky,” he whispers in Cora’s ear.

She nods slowly. “We’ll have to deal with those people eventually. They’re still chasing Callista.”

“They’re not people.” His nostrils flare, lips pressed tight. “They’re fucking monsters.”

“Yeah. But I don’t think we can avoid them forever.”

“You’re right, but I left them far behind. They set up camp around sunset. None of them can fly or run as fast as me, but they have my scent. They think I’ll starve and collapse eventually.”

Cora and Liam share a look.

“Sunset?” she asks.

“Yes. I don’t know how long the nights last here. That’s why I didn’t stop running.” She runs her fingers over her bandaged wrists. “Until you found me.”

“So they won’t search for you until sunrise?”

“They won’t, but I want to run as far as I can before they wake.”

Cora offers her hand to her. Instead, Callista grabs her wrist and pulls her into a hug.

“My arm,” Cora says, raising the splint. Callista leaves a space between it and her body and rests her head on Cora’s shoulder.

The whole set-up is intimate. Closer than Cora would dare get to almost anybody. There is only one person in the world–both worlds, she reminds herself grimly–who ever got this close to her.

Callista, while her embrace is rougher, squeezing a little too hard, reminds her of Mari. Right proportions. Right warmth.

Cora closes her eyes. For a second, she can almost imagine it’s her.

Then Callista pulls away, and Cora is left with Mari’s fading presence. Callista is not her. They’re two different people, but damn if that hug didn’t remind her of Mari’s.

“We’re gonna get out of this place,” Cora says. There won’t be a moment where she’ll go back on her word. Her jaw sets. She won’t repeat the same mistakes again. “And then…”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Liam says. He crosses his arms and snuggles deeper into the blankets.

“Thanks,” Callista chokes out, sounding like it had been Cora who squeezed the breath out of her. “I’m glad I met both of you. And I’m sorry I attacked you.” She beckons Liam to come closer.

“All good,” he says. Slowly, he leans forward, his head passing over Cora’s legs. Callista gives him a hug, too. Cora snorts at the mild confusion and pleasure on his face.

“We need to rest,” she says. “Me and Liam are tired. We’ve been walking for a while.”

Callista bites her lip, but yanks the blanket up. It covers her from the neck down, the tips of her feet sticking out at the other end. “Okay.”

The uncertainty remains. She clearly wants to bolt, but the fact she stays speaks volumes about how lonely she’s been.

Plus, Cora doesn’t mind sharing blanket space with her, too. On some deeper instinctual level, she still thinks it’s Mari who’s snuggled beside her, even when Cora repeats to herself that this isn’t her.

But you want it to be, don’t you? Wait until Callista finds out what you did to your best friend.

Cora forces herself to relax. You’re not real. Leave me alone. Wherever the real Mari is, Cora hopes it’s somewhere safe, warm, and with people as friendly as Liam and Callista.

The last thought drifting through her sleepy mind is why Callista is able to speak fluent English at all.

***

Screaming. Of the kind where the voice cracks and the screaming is high-pitched, shrill. Where Cora’s eyes fly open and she’s on her feet before she comprehends what’s going on.

She forgets where she is, though. When she looks around and finds nothing but trees, she nearly adds to the screaming a few feet away.

Until Liam rises next to her and she remembers what happened. That Cora doomed them to a hostile world. He grabs her by the elbow and moves her back so he partially shields her.

Callista, kicking and thrashing, releases a drawn-out shriek that hurts Cora’s ears. One of her hands–bigger than the other, attached to an arm whose muscle bulges through the uniform sleeve Cora is sure was slack before–swings wildly.

They take a few steps back. Through Callista’s shut eyelids, purple light spills through the slits. Her other hand arches, claws coming out. They rake gouges into the dirt.

“Callista!” Cora shouts.

Callista growls and swipes at the air. “I’ll kill you!” she screams.

“Callista!” Liam booms out. She stops thrashing for a second. “Wake up!”

Her eyes snap open. There’s a saying somewhere out there that in life-or-death situations, life flashes before the eyes. Cora doesn’t feel any of it. A familiar weight punches through her stomach. Her knees buckle as the same terror she felt at the mercy of the creatures paralyzes her.

It is Liam, with his quick thinking and uncanny way of being statuesque during danger, who tackles her out of the way. Her wrist burns and a thread of pain aches deep inside her right leg, twisting under their weight.

Callista propels herself forward with all the quiet grace of an elephant. She punches the air where they’d been a split moment ago and glances around. Her glowing eyes pass over Cora and Liam as if they don’t exist.

As if the real enemies were hiding in the shadows, waiting to ambush them. Cora checks around. The shadows aren’t disproportionate. But Callista swings at a tree a few feet away.

Bloody gauze and wood fragments spray out of the gouged hole. A few pieces impale Cora’s thigh, her hip, her shoulder. One grazes her cheek, the sting bringing tears to her eyes. Liam groans, shrinking away.

She shoves herself upright, grunting. “Stop!” She grabs Callista’s arm and pulls her away from the tree.

Bad idea. Her arm feels like rock. Both muscular and bony in all the wrong places. She jerks her arm forward. The force is tremendous. Stronger than any machine back home. Cora’s thrown forward, clinging onto Callista’s arm for dear life.

She snaps her arm back before Cora is sure of her footing.

Cora doesn’t just get whiplash. She goes flying. She hits the tree where she’d rested her back against much harder than she should. Muscles in her back shriek in protest.

She gasps, doubles over, then falls onto her good side, the side without the sling twisted up to her neck. Her ears ring, head pounding like somebody took a jackhammer to her skull. The world registers through amorphous blobs and degrees of lightness.

Whatever she makes out through her squinted eyes. Hot liquid runs down the back of her thigh. She grits her teeth, ignoring the tight band of muscle cramping under her jaw.

“Get her,” she mumbles. Her voice sounds muffled to her ears. She coughs, shuddering. “I’m fine. Wake her up.”

Liam looks torn between helping her and helping the girl who is about to rampage through the forest, but he nods. That’s enough.

Cora probes at each place where wooden shrapnel drove into her. The ones in her hip and shoulder pop out before she tests the wounds. Her face stings, but the wood left shallow marks. Not wet, thankfully.

Her thigh, though… only when she feels the back is when her fingers come away sticky. Wet warmth oozes from the place where the wood pierced her jeans. It sticks out of her leg, half an inch long and thicker than her thumb.

She’s afraid to remove it. It’s not big, but the wood might be an inch deep into her thigh. Maybe more. The skin gives a twinge in protest when she shifts so her legs curl into her chest while she’s sideways.

“No! You’re okay!”

Cora whips her head up. Liam’s hands are planted on Callista’s shoulders. Her slack-jawed expression does little to calm Cora’s nerves, but at least she isn’t thrashing anymore. Just quivering a little.

“They’re here–stop, I need to fight them, please,” Callista whimpers.

“We’re safe, okay? There’s nothing that will hurt us here.” Fascinated, Cora watches as Liam guides Callista over to the tree where Cora had slammed into. Rather than slam him into the tree, Callista relaxes in Liam’s hold.

He picks up the blanket and drapes it over her. Her eyes flutter. The piercing purple light dies, leaving twin dark crescents that widen when she notices Cora.

“Cora?” Callista asks.

She manages a weak wave before she screws her eyes shut from a fresh wave of pain radiating from her wrist.

“I did it again, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean it–”

"I know."

“Shit, you’re injured,” Liam says.

“'Tis but a scratch." Cora flashes a pained smile. He doesn’t crack a smile back. “Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood. Some of the wood got me here.” She twists her body, exposing the back of her bloodied thigh to him. “I don’t know how deep it went.”

Callista sets down the bottle of cleaning alcohol and some gauze. Warmth seeps into Cora's thundering heart.

"Thanks,” Cora says. She shuts her eyes and rides out another wave of vertigo. The world swims around her. Her senses mash into a giant glob of icky feelings.

It’s like somebody threw her into a blender and set it at the highest power. Cora nearly hurls. She shudders and tries to sit upright, to quell her stomach’s rebellion against her attempts to wrangle the nausea down.

“Wait. Cora,” Liam starts, but she can’t focus on anything except how dizzy she’s getting.

Sitting up doesn’t work. She feels the burning in her throat before she retches, doubling over. She heaves and gags and spews out whatever’s left in her stomach until it’s empty and her throat is on fire.

Then the next feeling she registers is the raw, thumping pain behind her ears, every pulse hammering fiery nails into her skull.

“Fuck!”

She reaches up to cover the back of her head with a splayed hand, but her arm’s twisted under her body, scraping against the ground as she tries to reach up. For a moment, she feels cold air blow on her broken wrist.

That’s not supposed to happen. Somehow, her injured hand comes out of the sling, and her wrist bends a fraction before knives sever her tendons and salt pours on her nerves.

She can’t help it. Cora is the one who is screaming now, thrashing wildly, eyes tearing up. Callista’s strong grip–or Liam’s, hard to tell whose calloused hands land on her elbows–straighten her into a sitting position. Another pair of hands holds her by the shoulders.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Callista says. Cora stops screaming. How quickly circumstances change. Minutes ago, it had been the other way around.

“Give me the water. She needs to rehydrate,” Liam says. He sounds calm, too calm, despite her and Callista losing their shit. Another mask, one Cora eagerly welcomes.

“Ibuprofen,” Cora coughs out. She lurches, but nothing comes out this time.

“You can’t take that on an empty stomach. Fuck, we don’t have any food.”

“Granola bar.”

“Huh?”

“Bottom of the front pocket. Tucked inside a mesh pocket there.” Cora groans, wishing that the world can steady itself instead of distorting like she took one too many mushrooms. “Promethazine, if you have that.”

She hears the crinkling of a wrapper. The granola bar is a green blur in Liam’s hand. “What’s prometh-whatever?”

“Promethazine. I think it's a prescription.”

Some of her research finally pays off.

Cora sinks into Callista’s arms. She’s sitting behind her, keeping Cora's back straight, working her gauze-wrapped arm back into the sling, gently. “Thanks,” Cora says, shuddering as her esophagus threatens to spasm.

“Don’t-I’m just doing what’s right. Especially after what I did to you.”

Another pang of warmth seeps into Cora’s heart. “Thanks, anyway.”

“I opened it for you. Here.” Liam’s fingertips brush against hers as she takes a bar. She nibbles on the corners first, then works her way down the middle until half of the bar is gone.

Her stomach grumbles. How long has it been since she’s eaten? At the same time the vertigo twists her perspective and leaves her dizzy, her hunger multiplies until it punches through the dizziness and leaves a ravenous monster that demands to eat.

And she does. The rest of the granola bar disappears in seconds. The second bar that’d come packaged with the first vanishes, too, leaving nothing but crumbles that rattle inside the clenched wrapper in her hand.

“Here’s the ibuprofen,” Liam says. She drops the wrapper. Two pills slip into her hand. “And there’s a bottle of promethazine half-full. Enough, I’m guessing.”

Cora takes the water bottle Callista brought over and holds a pill, leaving the other on her lap.

She swallows the first easily. And the second.

It’s so easy to pretend it's Mari whose warm comfort is keeping Cora upright.