I practically bolt to my feet, nearly tripping over the snuffed out campfire, before rounding on the log that I laid Sorina upon last night.

  Only, she’s not there.

  Rather, Sorina is standing with her back towards me. The color of her skin is thankfully less pale. But she’s just… staring. At nothing in particular. I take a hesitant step forward. In my mind, I played this interaction out so many times—went through each variation of it. Yet, despite all those fantasies, when I open my mouth, the words don’t flow. I stammer, make some pathetic mumbling noise, and stop. Gulp. Feel the dryness in my throat. The itch.

  Don’t be an idiot—do what you’re supposed to do. You haven’t forgotten how to interact with other people. Start by apologizing—wait no. Start by asking her how she is—no that won’t work either you dumbass.

  Just call her name.

  “Sorina…”

  She doesn’t move. Her ears don’t even perk up at her name.

  I take another step towards her. The distance between us is halved. I can almost touch her. Her dirty blonde hair flows up in a gentle breeze.

  Another step. I’m right behind her.

  I take a deep breath and reach for her shoulder. However, as soon as my fingertips graze her shoulderblade, Sorina turns around with frightening speed, startling me.

  I back away. She looks, not at me, but at her stump—face eerily calm. Her three left fingers run along the cloth-wrapped area with a tender, almost aching softness.

  I have no words. What can I say? ‘I’m sorry?’

  Would that do anything?

  Slowly, Sorina unwraps the cloths, exposing the amputated limb to the wind. She shivers slightly.

  Then finally, her green eyes meet mine.

  She starts walking towards me. I flinch, almost expecting some sort of reprimand. Instead, Sorina walks straight past me, to the campsite. She reaches down, ignoring Umbrahorn’s gaping maw, and starts peeling off the last bits of venison that have gone cold over the heat. She bites down and pulls at the meat like some ravenous scavenger.

  “Sorina,” Umbrahorn begins. She keeps chewing, not paying attention to the shark. “What happened?”

  I want to kill this fucking hammerhead. Of all the questions he could’ve asked, he chose that one? I give him an angry glare, but he’s too focused on Sorina.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  She looks up from her meal and swallows. “Baroth ate my hand.”

  Then, she goes back to chewing, trying her best to pull apart more of the meat with her three remaining fingers. She struggles. Furrows her eyebrows.

  So that Elk-demon bastard wasn’t entirely lying. He had met Sorina, just hadn’t killed her.

  I move to help her, circling around the fire to place a hand on the venison.

  She pulls it away from me and into her lap.

  I can’t let it be like this.

  Just say it.

  “Sorina… I’m—I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for leaving you behind. For trying to abandon our original purpose. For messing everything up.

  Those last parts don’t come out though.

  Sorina doesn’t look up at me, simply continuing to tug at smaller pieces of the cooked deer. She plops one into her mouth and chews—a rawer piece, for blood spills down her chin.

  Only then does she look at me, now less a scavenger and more a feral bear whose meal is being interrupted.

  I close my eyes to prepare myself for her beratement.

  “I forgive you.”

  What? My eyes peek open. She’s back to eating—taking long, slow bites of another piece. When she finishes, she looks at me again. Perfectly neutral expression. No hate. No love.

  Nothing.

  “I said, I forgive you Raiten.”

  “But—”

  “You know, I met a nice old lady when you left. An accountant. She told me to forgive you, if I ever got the chance,” my old friend says, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “She died trying to save me. From Baroth. The being who was after you.” Sorina shakes her head. “But that’s not your fault either, Raiten. It's mine. It’s my fault for going on this journey with you—my fault for putting so much trust in a man I barely know. My fault for trying to solve everything on my own. My fault for letting you cloud my judgement. My fault for teaching you anything.”

  My stomach sinks. Sorina just nods to herself, as if confirming the statements. “Yes. It’s all my fault Raiten. So, why don’t we just put water under the bridge, forget the past, and…” she stands now. “Forget we ever knew each other.”

  Sorina starts walking away.

  And I’m letting her. I can’t believe I’m letting her. It's like watching my life play out from someone else’s perspective—everything feels so distant.

  Surely she can’t mean that?

  But of course she can. What reason have I given her to believe in anything else?

  “Sorina, wait!” Umbrahorn calls. She doesn’t oblige his request and her form is swallowed by the blackened thicket of the briars. The shark groans. “You humans are so stupid with your stupid problems and your stupid grudges. It's infuriating.” He turns to me. “Stay here—I’ll get her back. Explain that we have the cure. Besides we’re still in the briars—it’s not safe for her alone.”

  I just stare at her. Give him a barely imperceptible nod.

  Then he’s off. The snuffed out flame levies its smoke high into the canopy—the dead deer begins to stink—and the sounds of the forest close in.

  A few flies gather around the venison and begin to feast.

  Some buzz towards me and start nibbling on my skin. They buzz right by my ear—a sick symphony to my unfolding life. I don’t try swatting them off. Instead, I remain perfectly still—a dead man, mere carrion for nature to feed upon.

  And just like that…

  I’m alone once more.