A Scum's Redemption

I don't look back.

Not once.

I gave him more time than anyone else would've. That's worth something… isn't it?

Every muscle screams. Every stone cuts. But I don't stop.

Because the second I stop… I might go back.

The forest is pale in the morning light. Wet with mist. Unwelcoming.

I move in a straight line. Not because I know where I'm going—just because I refuse to look in any other direction.

The trees are crooked, hunched like they're trying to whisper something I don't want to hear. Moss carpets everything. Roots reach like fingers. The world feels both wider and smaller without Kai beside me.

That's when I find them.

Berries.

Small. Blue. Fat with moisture.

I drop to my knees. Pick one. Sniff it. Nothing sharp.

I eat.

Greedy. Ripping them from the stem like they owe me something. Chewing too fast. Gagging. Swallowing anyway.

It's not enough.

But it's something.

I take some for the road, filling my pockets. 

I stop.

Hand mid-reach.

A thought:

Should I bring some back?

I stare at the bush.

At the handful I haven't devoured yet.

No.

I've made my choice.

This would only prolong the inevitable.

I leave them.

The day drags.

I cross a shallow ravine filled with slick stones and thorny shrubs. Twist my ankle once. Curse. Keep going. I pass through a narrow break in the cliffside—walls so close they scrape my arms. The trees open up beyond it, revealing a wide field of brambles and shale that chews through the soles of my boots.

The air is too clean up here.

Too bright. Too quiet. Like the world's waiting to see what I become.

The sun dips.

The wind changes.

I hear them before I see them.

Low growls.

Paws on stone.

Snapping twigs.

One. Two. Three.

Then more.

Four. Five. Six.

Wolves.

Not corrupted.

Just hungry.

Just alive.

Which makes them worse.

Because they know how to wait.

The first one steps out from the underbrush—gray fur, ribs visible, eyes sharp.

Then another.

And another.

They don't charge.

They circle.

I run.

Branches slap my face. Thorns tear at my sleeves. My arm screams with every jolt. My legs barely keep under me. But I run like death's right behind me. Because it is.

They give chase.

Snarls in the dark. Paws on wet stone. The slap of claws against bark. One claws at my heel—I stumble, catch myself on a tree, keep going. I leap over a fallen log. Turn. Duck under a branch. Nearly vomit from the pain.

One wolf lunges at my leg—misses by inches.

I don't look back.

I just run.

And run.

Until the trees thin.

Until I see it—

A cliff.

And I'm out of room.

I skid to a stop.

Stone and wind and empty air stretch out before me.

Behind?

Wolves.

Six sets of eyes glowing in the dusk.

They inch closer.

One howls in the back, like they are announcing their victory or alerting the rest of their pack that they are bringing home food.

The thought gives me shivers.

Maybe this is where I give up. 

Alone. Ripped to shreds. That's what I deserve.

Silent.

Certain.

I back up to the edge. Glance down. No path. Just sharp rocks and the vague shape of death waiting at the bottom.

"Well," I mutter, chest heaving. "Guess this is what I get."

A sound grabs everyone's attention.

Not a growl.

A roar.

Thunderous.

Violent.

Familiar.

Something explodes through the treeline behind them—massive, black, breathing death.

The corrupted bear.

Same rotting hide. Same missing eye. Same nightmare that Gil fought back in the clearing.

It charges through the wolves like they're nothing.

One vanishes beneath its jaws.

Another gets swiped, getting ripped into pieces by its claws. 

The rest scatter.

Whimpers.

Yelps.

Gone.

I stand there, stunned. Chest rising and falling like it's trying to outrun my ribs.

"Why can't it just be the wolves, for once." I sigh.

The bear turns toward me.

Breathing heavy.

Burning red eyes fixed on my chest.

Same torn hide.

Same mangled face.

Same one Gil fought.

And lost?

No.

No, he couldn't have.

He's Gil.

He doesn't lose.

But it's here.

And Gil isn't.

It steps forward.

Slow.

Measured.

Like it remembers me.

Like it's choosing how it wants to end this.

"Is this a hallucination too?"

I take a step back.

My heel brushes the cliff edge.

Wind rushes upward.

My breath sticks.

It's not moving like a dream. Not flickering. Not wrong.

It's real.

It bellows.

Louder than thought.

And then it charges.

A blur of muscle and rot and hate.

I don't run.

No point.

I just whisper—

"Definitely not a hallucination."

Right before the paw hits me like a goddamned freight wagon.

I fly.

Twenty feet—maybe more.

Everything twists.

The sky.

The trees.

My insides.

Then stone.

Shoulder first.

The world knocks out of me.

I skid across rock.

Trees rip past my vision.

Then an edge.

Nothing beneath me but air and the awful sound of tearing roots.

A single one wraps around my wrist.

Thin.

Frayed.

Mocking.

It holds.

For one stupid second, I think maybe that's enough. Maybe the world's changed its mind.

Please—

It snaps.

I fall.

Not far.

But far enough.

For a second, I think this is it.

No more climbing. No more crawling. Just the end—quick, clean, deserved.

I don't even scream. Just close my eyes and wait for the break.

Then—

The ledge catches me like a slap across the spine.

Air blasts from my lungs. My vision whites out.

Pain flares. Blinding. Sudden.

I don't get back up.

I don't scream.

Screaming would mean I wanted to be saved.

The impact isn't what hurts.

It's the silence afterward.

The kind of silence that sounds like a verdict.

The world spins.

My pulse sounds like it's underwater.

Every limb says "no."

And then—

A light.

Warmth.

Soft.

Familiar.

Threaded with cold like winter hiding in spring.

Kai's Gift? How?

I breathe once.

Then the dark folds over me.

Another memory.

Maybe the last.