Sunlight began to thaw Jeron, but with the ebbing of the chill came the rise of the pain. He could feel that familiar sting of ragged cuts on every part of his body, the sensation pulling him to waking. Being in the shallow water like this didn’t help—feeling the gentle current push around him only seemed to tenderize the cut areas.

Jeron opened his eyes, an ordinary human brown instead of the frightening red of his kind, focusing on the shape that hovered over him. Maura? He wanted to make out her slender frame, her frizzy hair, her kind eyes, and her gentle smile. Instead, his vision focused on that woman from before, the one that laughed at him, the one that didn’t run away.

He could feel his hair slide against his skin in the water and knew that he was exposed. If she wasn’t running away, it meant that she was in the processing of killing him. Jeron wanted to jerk away, to snap his arm out defensively, to scream, to run, but his body was in no condition to do any of those things, and it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. But he wasn’t going to surrender to this strange woman as she finished him off. Thus, with a low groan, he began to sit up, very slowly, pivoting away from the woman as he did so. His wet hair clung to his shoulders, casting rivulets of water to run along his many wounds. He took a moment to catch his breath and prevent the pain from knocking him out, then made the slow, arduous struggle to his feet, his back facing her the entire time. He managed with some effort, his back hunched over, his knees shaking, his face contorted in a grimace of constant pain. He was like a newborn deer attempting his first steps, but he was no child of the forest entering a world in which he belonged. He was, instead, a creature fighting against the call of death, moving forward despite the very real chances that he would not survive another night out here because… because…

He did not know why he continued to fight to live when dying was so much easier. All he knew was that he must, that the act of living was the one thing that no one could control or take away from him regardless of their many efforts.

Shakily, Jeron picked up his pack from the mud beside him and let it dangle from his loose grip. Without so much as acknowledging the woman’s presence, he began to move forward, away from her, each step taking considerable effort and requiring a moment’s pause.