What The Forest Keeps Pt.3
Part One Part Two
a/n: This is my favorite part so far! I will release part 4 Wednesday night. Summary: Quaritch tries to escape... wc: 2k Warnings: Blood/Injury
Miles awoke before the forest did, or at least, before the hut began making its usual strange sounds. Not the sound of grinding stone or Y/N’s strange humming tunes, nor her soft footsteps moving from plant to plant. Not the green-eyed woman telling him to lie back down like he was one of her injured pets.
His good eye opened slowly. The room was dim, the fire burned low, and the air still carried that bitter mix of medicine and poison. For a long moment, he didn't move; he only listened.
After a long moment, he came to the conclusion that Y/N was gone. Miles exhaled sharply through his nose. “Well,” he spoke softly to himself, “ain’t that convenient...”
Carefully, he shifted his weight, testing the waters of his sore body. Pain sparked through his ribs and shoulder, but it wasn't the blinding agony from before. He could move. Not well, not fast, but enough, and enough was all he needed. He pushed himself upright, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. It was as if the hut tilted and his vision blurred. He sat there breathing through it for a few seconds, refusing to fall back like his body wanted. When the world finally steadied, his eye swept the room. With his one good eye, he scanned the room for exits, finding only one.
…Then he saw them… his weapons! Jackpot, he thought. They hadn't been hidden in the slightest. Just set aside near the far wall, cleaned of mud and blood, placed with irritating neatness beside pieces of damaged armor. His knife was there as well as his sidearm. She probably had no idea what half of them were, let alone how to use them.
Miles stared at the weapons, smiling, “Now that,” he murmured, “is a mistake.”
Getting to them was ugly and painful. By the time he crossed the room, sweat had dampened the back of his neck, and his side throbbed beneath the bandages. He ignored it. Pain wasn’t going to stop him, never had, never will. He strapped on what he could. The knife felt right in his hand, familiar and grounding. His pistol was heavier than he remembered, but it made him feel more like himself.
He glanced once toward the entrance. No sign of Y/N. No sign of Kawng. So there's no one to stop him.
Miles limped out of the hut and into the clearing as the morning light spilled through the trees. The forest that surrounded Y/N's home glowed in strange places; there were bright flowers tucked between roots and soft green fungi clinging to bark. Most concerningly, something chittered somewhere nearby. He didn't like it; the whole place felt watched.
He looked toward the widest path leading away from the clearing and started walking towards it as each step ripped and tore at his wounds. He was swollen and weak, although he would never admit it to himself. He pushed through the pain as a soldier would; he would survive, as a soldier would. A soldier did not lie helpless in a witch’s hut waiting for a glowing forest native to decide what came next.
In the distance, Y/N watched Quaritch without his knowledge. She was silent and still. Her satchel hung at her hip, and her neon-green eyes followed every uneven step Miles took through the undergrowth. She knew he would leave, of course she knew. She was a healer at her core and knew that those who are wounded did one of 2 things. They either tried to flee or hide. Miles did not seem like the hiding type.
Y/N waited until he disappeared past the first wall of trees before she followed him. She wasn't close enough for him to hear or see. He moved badly, too much weight put on one side of his body. Too much pride in each step he took. Every few minutes, he stopped, pretending to study the forest while really giving himself time to catch his breath.
Y/N almost smiled… Almost… Then he reached the slope, and her smile disappeared. “Miles,” she whispered, shaking her head, though he was too far to hear.
The ground ahead dipped sharply beneath a curtain of vines. The moss there looked solid from a distance, but Y/N knew better; however, Miles did not. Beneath it was slick stone and loose mud. He pushed through the vines, and his foot slipped. For one brief second, his body tried to correct itself, but then the ground vanished beneath him.
Miles went down… hard.
He slammed onto his side and slid down the slope in a violent rush of mud, leaves, and broken branches. His shoulder slammed into a root. His leg twisted beneath him, and something cracked loudly, echoing throughout the forest.
A roar tore from his throat. Y/N moved instinctually and quickly.
By the time Miles hit the bottom, he couldn't breathe, and pain swallowed everything. His ankle screamed first, sharp and white-hot, then his side, then his chest. Burn blisters across his shoulder, and ribs tore open against dirt and bark, leaving wet fire across his skin. He rolled onto his back, gasping, “God… damn it…”
He tried to sit up, but that was a bad idea… His vision flashed black, and he collapsed back into the mud. For several seconds, he panted, teeth bared, breathing like an animal, unable to move.
Then a low vibration came from the trees. Buzzing… Miles opened his eye, and the sound grew louder. He warily turned his head. A nearby tree had a hollow knot in its side, now cracked from where his shoulder had struck it on the way down. Thick sap seeped from the wound in the bark. From inside the hollow, small glowing bodies began to spill out. They weren't bees. Nothing from earth could ever measure to what was approaching him. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Miles stared helplessly. Not a feeling he was familiar with. Not a feeling he ever wanted to be familiar with.
The swarm rose in a pulsing cloud. They were bigger than bees, with translucent wings and needlelike tails that flashed blue at the tips. Dozens poured from the tree. Then hundreds.
He reached for his sidearm, and his hand shook recklessly. The first creature darted toward him. Miles was able to pull out the gun and quickfire. The shot cracked through the forest, and the swarm scattered for half a second. Not long enough for Quaritch to feel relief because when it came back, it came back angrier and fiercer. “Outstanding,” he growled.
He tried to drag himself backward. His broken ankle buckled uselessly, and pain tore through him so brutally that he nearly blacked out for a moment.
The swarm closed in, and when he felt that it had to be over… That’s when Y/N stepped between him and the cloud. Miles completely froze. She moved with maddening calm, pulling a small pouch from her satchel. The insects spiraled toward her, wings shrieking like vibrating glass.
“Down,” she shouted.
Miles blinked. “What?”
“DOWN!”
Miles ducked his head as low as it could go while covering it. Y/N threw the powder into the air, and it burst open in a pale green cloud, and the effect was immediate. The swarm jerked back as if struck by a strong gust of wind. Their glowing bodies scattered in every direction, fleeing the powder as it drifted through the air. Within seconds, the furious buzzing thinned, then faded into the trees.
Silence returned, and Miles stared at the empty air, then at Y/N. “What the hell was that?”
“Powder.”
His eye narrowed. “No kidding.”
She glanced down at him, “Helpful powder. I made it for situations as these.”
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, then winced hard as pain stabbed through his ribs. Y/N crouched beside him calmly and unsurprised.
“You followed me,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You let me leave?”
“Yes.”
“You knew I’d leave?”
“Yes.”
Miles stared, thinking he shouldn’t be surprised that this woman was all-knowing. “You got any answers longer than one word?”
“Yes.” She laughed in her own head at her answer to this. She hadn't meant to be short in her words; she just had been lonely for a long while. Company was few and far between, often in the form of animals or insects. It had been refreshing to speak with Miles.
He closed his eye for a second. “Cute.”
She examined his ankle. The moment her fingers touched it, he hissed and jerked. “Broken,” she said.
“No, really?” he said with obvious attitude.
She ignored his tone and pressed cloth against his reopened gunshot wound. “You tore this again.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I was there.”
“The burns too,” she lectured.
“Appreciate the report.” Quaritch was growing annoyed.
“You knocked a hive tree,” she pointed to the neighboring tree.
“Not intentionally...”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, growing confident in her next sentence, “That makes it less stupid?”
He looked at her. She looked back, not knowing whether to mock him or be worried by his reaction.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Miles gave a humorless little smile. “You always this sweet to your patients?”
“Only the difficult ones.” She shrugged and turned away shyly.
“Lucky me,” he smirked, propping himself up on his good arm.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Lucky you.” That finally seemed to shut him up. Only for a second, though. Y/N sat back on her heels, studying him with those unnatural green eyes. “You may leave whenever you want, Miles.”
He huffed. “Generous.”
“I mean it,” she nodded.
“Could’ve fooled me with the following me part.”
“I did not stop you.”
“No, you just waited until the forest kicked my ass.” Quaritch pointed at her accusingly.
Her mouth twitched, and Miles caught it immediately.
“Don’t you laugh.”
“I am not laughing.” She said before bursting into unstoppable giggling.
Quaritch nudged her playfully, “Real professional.”
“You fell very far,” she laughed as she said it.
“Not my finest tactical maneuver.”
She composed herself before agreeing, “No.”
He scowled, and she beamed; the glow of her freckles seemed to sharpen with it. Miles wanted to stare, but looked away instead.
Y/N’s voice softened, “You can leave. I will not cage you. I will not tie you down. I will not make you stay.”
He glanced back at her. “But…?” he asked.
“But you need me for now.”
The words sat between them; they were true, irritatingly true. Miles hated the truth when it didn't suit him. He looked toward the forest path, then down at his ruined ankle, his bleeding side, the mud coating his body, the weapon still useless in his hand. Then he looked at Y/N.
She waited for him to speak. No smugness or commands. And certainly no pity yet that somehow made it worse.
Finally, he muttered, “You gonna carry me?”
Y/N tilted her head, “I could drag you.”
His eye narrowed, “You wouldn’t.”
“I have before,” she said with pride.
“Yeah, and I was unconscious.”
“You may choose that again if you prefer.”
Despite himself, a rough laugh escaped him. Pain punished him for it immediately.
Y/N sighed and reached for him. “Come. Before you find another tree to offend.”
Miles let her pull his arm over her shoulders. He leaned into her more than he wanted to, and she bore the weight without complaint. For a moment, he was close enough to smell the herbs in her hair, the smoke in her clothes, and something sharp beneath it all, like crushed leaves after rain. It was nice, but he didnt give it much thought beyond that.
He glanced down at her, “You know,” he grunted, “for somebody who says I can leave whenever I want, you sure do spend a lotta time bringing me back.”
Y/N adjusted her grip around his waist, “For someone who wants to leave, you spend much time falling near my home.”
“Smart mouth.” Miles stared ahead, not meeting her gaze.
“Yes.”
They began the slow climb back up the steep slope. Ahead, Y/N’s hut waited in the roots. And for the first time since waking in the forest, Miles did not fight her when she led him home…
