Man of Hollows

"You alright, Hill?" Lands asked, his tone soft. "You haven't said anything yet."

Hill blinked slowly, the question taking some time to register within his mind. When he finally turned to look at the curly-haired boy, his breath was instantly caught in his lungs. 

Lands looked like he'd been in a boxing match. The left side of his face was bruised badly, his skin purple and black when it should be a healthy tan. Most of the swollen tissue was concentrated under his left eye, but there was so much swelling that his eye looked as if it was closed when it was indeed open. 

His grey tank top hung in tatters, and his cargo pants were caked with mud. In fact, they didn't seem like pants but more like shorts due to how badly they were damaged along his knees.

The sight made Hill's stomach lurch. After all, the thought of someone who had been so kind and welcoming to a newcomer like him, to be so injured... it wasn't exactly comforting to think about.

He shifted his gaze to the right, where Soleil was sitting in silence, her gaze fixed on him.

Somehow, she looked even worse.

The shirt that lands had lent to her had practically become a tank top due to the fact that the arm sleeves of the shirt were missing for whatever reason. Judging by her berserker fighting style, he didn't even have to imagine why they were gone. There was a long vertical slit that ran down the right side of the mid section of the shirt, exposing pale skin beneath.

But it wasn't the torn clothing that worried Hill. Not at all. Unlike Lands, her face bore no visible injuries, yet she looked significantly worser. It was like he was looking at a ghost. She was completely drained. 

Her sky-blue hair was so saturated with her sweat that it clung to her scalp and the sides of her face like freshly applied paint. This combined with the dark circles under her eyes made her appear like an existence one would encounter within their nightmares.

Hill found himself staring at the two of them, trying to process what had happened. Judging by how they were now outside the cave where they fought the lava worms and by his comrades injuries, he knew quite a lot had occurred.

"... Hill?"

The sound of his name snapped him back to the present. He gasped, realizing he'd been lost in his thoughts. Letting out an awkward laugh, he turned to Lands.

"Sorry, I was just... " He hugged his arms around his knees as he responded. "What happened to you guys? You both look badly hurt."

"Eh, I'll be fine," Lands replied, seemingly shrugging it off. "You're the one who got hit badly. Thankfully, Soleil was able to draw the worm's attention before it could finish you off."

The words sank in slowly but surely.

Ah, yes. I didn't get devoured by the worm, I was just sent flying into the cave wall instead. I guess Soleil must have intervened just before it could reach me again.

And as a result...

I live to see another day.

Or... hear another bell... I guess.

He looked down at himself then, and the blood drained from his face.

His chest was bare. Completely bare.

Wait, what??

Where's my shirt?

The red boatneck shirt—the one he'd been wearing since the devouring cloud had reached Agshaka—was gone. The very same shirt that Meira had passed down to him, worn soft from years of her wearing it. It was the last piece of her he had left.

Panic shot through his conscious. He scrambled to his feet within a blink of an eye, his head swiveling left and right as he searched desperately for that familiar crimson fabric. He knew it was stupid, to value an article of clothing so highly. But after losing so much within such a small time frame... he couldn't bare to lose anymore. 

Especially something that reminded him of the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

Before he could even balance himself on his feet, though, the world tilted violently. A sharp pang exploded behind his eyes and his vision blurred into watercolors. He lost his balance and fell backwards, his knees buckling as pain continued to wrack his head.

"Woah, steady on... steady on..." Lands' voice seemed to come from underwater as strong hands caught him, easing him down until his head rested against the cold stone floor. "You can't be moving like that just yet, Hill."

Hill's tongue felt thick and unresponsive. "M-my shirt..." he managed to whisper.

"Your shirt? Ah, yeah, sorry about that." Lands' voice was gentle, carefully controlled. "It got... burned. But it's okay! Don't feel embarrassed! We're an understanding bunch, after all, right?"

The words hit Hill hard. Burned. His breathing became shallow and rapid, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. "It was Meira's..."

"Meira? Who's that? Is she in this camp or—"

"Lands."

The single word, spoken by Soleil, seemed to cut through the air like a sharpened blade. Lands paused mid-sentence, confused by her interruption as he turned to look at her. Her amethyst eyes were piercing through him, somehow illuminated within the permanent twilight of the underground forest.

She was trying to communicate something to him, but Lands was slow on the uptake.

"What?" he asked, but as the words left his mouth, he realized what was wrong.

Soleil simply sighed and made a slow calming motion with her hands. Lands opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out of it. 

They had all come from Earth, and they all had experienced death in some form or another. 

Tragedy was a constant for the inhabitants of the underground. And as such, it was a delicate subject that all were sensitive to.

The silence persisted for many seconds, close to a minute, before Soleil finally broke it.

"We need to go," She cleared her throat, wincing as she did so. "You'll carry him back to camp. I'll bring the sleds to August. After that, we can rest until the dinner bell."

Lands studied her face, noticing the paleness of her skin, and her hobbled posture. "You think you can drag all those sleds by yourself? In your condition?" He gestured toward the heavy shell sleds loaded with their precious cargo. "That's a two man job at the bare minimum, Sol!" Do you not recall how difficult it was pulling those things out of the cave?"

Soleil simply shrugged in response. Her mind had already been made up. She turned and began walking towards the sleds before responding with: "I'll manage."

"No! Absolutely not!" The words burst out of Lands. He strode over to Soleil and caught her by the shoulder. He then firmly spun her around to face him. When their eyes met, he made sure to keep his voice level and reasonable. "Here's what we'll do, Sol. We take Hill back to camp first, then we both come back here and drag the sleds to August together. What do you say?"

For a moment, Soleil simply fixed him with a neutral stare. Her amethyst eyes refusing to reveal any emotion.

"Let go of me, Lands," she said finally. Lands withdrew his grip.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, searching her face for some sign of agreement.

She gave a small nod and walked past him toward where Hill lay. He was still processing his grief, and his face was contorted in remorseful agony.

Hill noticed her approach, and as he watched her, he noticed something was wrong with the Fourth Company leader. Her footsteps were uneven, and it appeared as if she was having trouble maintaining her balance. Her eyes seemed to drift in and out of focus.

He was about to say something when her eyes suddenly rolled back into her head. Her knees buckled as she plummeted to the ground in a heap, her momentum carrying her forward as her face struck hard against the stone floor.

"Sol!" Lands gasped, rushing over and carefully rolling her onto her back. Her skin was much paler than before—not just tired pale, but a deathly white that made Hill's own face drain of color.

Lands looked back at the membrane-laden sleds, then down at his two fallen comrades. He let out a long weary sigh.

Moving carefully, he hooked Soleil's right arm over his shoulders, then Hill's left, before scooping them up as gently as he could manage. They felt impossibly light, which worried him more than if they'd been heavy.

Taking one careful step after another, he began the long journey back to camp, his quiet curses mixing with the sound of his footsteps on stone.