they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

er nostrils flared when he hit the nail right on the head.

Did he have to be so frustratingly attractive and intuitive? Damn him!

There it was. The "silly woman" look. Her expression flattened, displeased. She wanted to hurl some ugly comment at him, but then he came closer and called her by name and she forgot to be pissed. She hated what he was saying, but he wouldn't have uttered it if he wasn't concerned about her well-being. Farrah felt something akin to herself softening toward him, so she took a step away, spine rigid. Having an acquaintance that maybe didn't want to watch you die didn't make that person someone particularly special; it made him an ally. She needed to get her head on straight.

Her eyes followed the vine, brow creasing at first because she didn't understand how this was going to help them. Then he just walked up the trunk like he'd done this a thousand times, and anger immediately flared inside her; she wouldn't be able to do that. It wasn't that she didn't have the core strength for it - she definitely did - but right now it would be extremely painful. "Why is it that I only seem to break bones in your presence?" she spat out, just now realizing it, even as she strode forward for him to help her up.

She looked up at him for a few seconds, weighing the minimal options. "You're going to open your cuts again," she pointed out, though she reached up to grab his hand as she said it. It was going to suck regardless of how they went about this, so she only let him have about half the control and grit her teeth while she used her core to do the rest of the work. Stars winked behind her eyes, and once she was on the branch and leaned against the trunk, taking quick but shallow breaths. A hand reflexively went over the break, but she pulled it off just as quickly because she couldn't stand the sickening crunchy feeling.

Once she managed to open her eyes without half her vision being speckled black, Farrah tilted her head back against the trunk and assessed the journey from here. Good - everything from here on up was pretty close together; she wouldn't need Logan's help. But she did need... just.. a second to brace herself for it.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

is response had her snorting at its ridiculousness. "Sure," she dismissed, shaking her head.

She expected him to be long gone by the time she managed to pull herself up and prepare to climb to the next branch, but he... was still right there. Narrowing her eyes at him, her gaze asked the unspoken question: Why are you still here? But that's all he'd get from her, because this wasn't a time to get all soft on each other. It was time to get the hell out.

Maybe. If this was the right direction.

She looked down at the hole he'd pulled her from, shoulders tightening at the knowledge of what was at the other end. They had to be on the right track; they were out of options otherwise. And she refused to believe she was going to die here.

Funny, how just hours ago she'd been prepared to accept what she thought to be her inevitable end.

Thankfully, the branches were close enough together that she didn't really have to rely on upper or lower body strength alone; it was like climbing a ladder. Still, the longer they went, the more she wondered if this damn canopy would ever end. They reached a point where falling would definitely mean death, and still she couldn't see the sky. But the next branch was a little farther away than the last, meaning she had to stretch for it. When she did, pain shot down her side, but aside from a grunt to signal it hurt like hell, she didn't slow down. They had to be.. so... close...

At the next step up, she must have almost lost consciousness. Because the world seemed to tilt on its axis, her feet were suddenly dangling over nothing, and when she terrifyingly lost her grip-



They'd been out in the wide open, but they were growing nearer to a copse of trees that were densely packed, but not apparently very deep. A few extra-long steps, and she was at his side (because ain't nobody gonna leave Farrah trailing behind). Just as they reached the edge of the trees, she managed a flippant shrug and gripped the nearest trunk to swing herself in an arch around it. She'd meant to say, "Probably somewhere you can taste every inch of me, if I had to guess," but the movement caused a sharp pain at her side and she hunched forward, gasping. Hand going to the source, a sickening grinding-bone feeling had her wide eyes flying to Logan. He was looking at her like she just sprouted ten heads.

Panting, she practically fell away from the tree line, stumbling backwards. Her gaze flicked between Logan and the trees they were outside of, a sense of dread washing over her. She didn't know why, but.. "Don't go in there," she rushed out, and gripped Logan's wrist to stop any forward progress.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

he didn't remember him being freshly injured, so when he lifted his shirt to reveal the gouges caked in blood, she grew just as concerned as he was. "What the fuck...," she whispered, reaching out a hand to just barely touch her fingertips to his stomach as she examined the wounds a little more closely. All teasing, all sexual jesting, was completely forgotten. "Logan, these-... Are pretty deep. You probably need stitches," she observed, hunching a little lower to determine if any actually entered his abdominal cavity. It didn't seem like it right now, but everything that was supposed to stay in was probably only being kept as such by a thread.

The movement had her gasping in pain again, forcing her to straighten. A breath hissed through her teeth as she parroted his motions and lifted her shirt. The bruising was extensive, covering nearly half her side. Tenderly prodding at it, she winced, "I... think I broke a rib." Brow creasing in confusion, her head lifted to the woods before them. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, but she slowly backed away regardless. This place wasn't right; two seconds ago they'd both been happy and healthy, if not a little on each others' nerves. And now they were nearly incapacitated?

It hit her then how absolutely exhausted she was. And cold. Despite standing in the beating sun, goosebumps covered her skin. Because it calmed her in times of stress, Farrah started doing a weapons check on herself. Rifle - check. Monoc - check. Knife - check. She hadn't brought the drone, so that was tucked away safely. Pistol - .... "..Where's my revolver?" she asked, hands patting all around her waistband until a scene flashed in her mind's eye - brief, but very much real. An image of Logan climbing with her over his shoulder, and the metallic clang of something falling down, down, until it met stone and skittered away.

Her eyes swung back to Logan, and without warning she stepped forward and again lifted his shirt. Staring at the claw marks - she didn't know how, but she knew that's what they were - and looking back to the tree line, she pieced together facts without having the memories to back them. "We were attacked," she deduced, and for some reason a whole slew of emotions ran through her that, under normal circumstances, she would have been able to squash. Her eyes lifted to meet Logan's. "You... saved me," she said softly, all of her fear and pain and exhaustion stinging the backs of her eyes in the form of unshed tears.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

ad she been of sound mind, she never would've uttered the words in the first place. But she wasn't, so she had. And she thought, just for a second, that maybe that hadn't been the most terrible of things - because the way he stared back at her suggested a much deeper side to Logan that she had yet to see. Just then, despite every other emotion coursing through her, she grew a little - just a little - excited to get to know him further. She exhaled harsher than usual, just once, at the memory of already... knowing (cough) him.

But Logan got his wits about him faster than she did, and him clearing his throat knocked her out of whatever suspended time she was in. Clearing her own, she took a step away from him and squared her shoulders. "Of course I can walk," she replied mildly, eyes shifting back to the trees because focusing on whatever her brain was trying to tell her there kept her from pondering these new, weird, very sudden.... feelings she was having toward him. Her body remembered things her conscious didn't, and it bothered her immensely.

Farrah's head swung in the direction she remembered coming from. "North is probably our best bet," she commented, looking at him only briefly before turning around, in said direction, and starting forward. Within a few steps, she realized how hungry she was. Looking down at her grumbling stomach like it was betraying her, she wondered if this was why she felt so tired. "When was the last time we ate?" she asked, gaze flicking back to the forest, somehow knowing it held all the answers but unwilling to penetrate it to get them.

"Whatever, let's keep moving. We can hunt along the way." It was really weird, though, how close nightfall seemed. Exactly how many hours had they both lost?

They didn't get very far before darkness was upon them, and for the first time in her life, Farrah was afraid of it. Without realizing, she started walking closer to Logan, nearly brushing up against him as they moved. It was a cloudy night, so the moons weren't exceptionally helpful in guiding the way. So when something darted several yards in front of them, she crouched suddenly to the ground, putting a hand on Logan to encourage him to do the same. Unstrapping the monocular from her back, she brought it to her face and scanned the area. Breathing a sigh of relief, she handed it to him to take a look. "It's dinner."

Bringing her rifle around, she sighted one of the animals in the crosshairs. It was dark as all hell, so the shot was going to be a lot of luck and prayer, but even grazing one would be helpful. Forgetting about her rib, she took her usual deep breath just prior to squeezing the trigger. Just as the pain registered, though, a growl-shriek split the air, all too familiar. Farrah's gaze whipped over her shoulder, back to the forest they'd left behind.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

he never shot without having her eyes on the target (except for when she was showing off and shooting from her periphery), so when a shot went off after the growls, Farrah flinched away. "We need to go," she half-scolded, almost simultaneously to his own statement. Snatching the monocular back from him, she scanned the area to see if he'd been successful. Nothing but tall grasses greeted her vision, so with a curse she clipped the equipment back where it belonged. "If you got anything, it wasn't a killshot," she said flatly, not judging him for it but merely stating a fact. "Come on," she urged, putting a hand on his arm to pull him up as she stood. She didn't think he needed the support, but they were both out of sorts enough that the physical reminder probably wasn't a bad thing.

Gritting her teeth, she started at a light jog. Her rib protested, but she wanted away from that forest and toward something she recognized. Her hunger would just have to wait.

After a few minutes, Farrah was forced to walk. She was breathing too hard, every motion grinding bone against lung, and if she continued she was either going to pass out, throw up, or both. Her hands fisted at her sides in frustration. Fuck this planet and its ability to take her memory.

She didn't know how long they walked, but it was nowhere near sunrise when they reached some southern portion of the river. She didn't recognize the stretch, but the sound of the water calmed her. The clouds had pulled back, allowing the moons to light the ground at least somewhat, and scanning behind them, she couldn't see the forest. Whether it was just dark enough at the horizon that it blended in or was truly out of sight, she didn't really care. There weren't any more screeches, and for the first time she let the bone-deep tired take over.

Without a word to Logan, she exhaled heavily and started to unload her equipment. It was heavy, and while she'd changed the rifle's strap to sling on the other diagonal so it didn't lay over her broken rib, it was still a relief to take the thing off. Staring out over the water, she looked over to study the dried blood permeating Logan's shirt. "We should clean up your cuts before they get infected," she suggested, hands going to the hem of her own shirt. The moment she started to pull up she cringed in pain, so with a huff she took a step toward him. Under normal circumstances she would have loathed this very scenario because he'd made a smartass remark, but they were both worn down enough currently that the thought didn't even cross her mind. "Little help?" she asked quietly. "I want to wash up."

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

olding her arms above her head so the shirt could come off was kind of painful, but not nearly as much as trying to pull the thing off herself. "Thank you," she breathed, too worn to notice or care that she was now shirtless in front of him - and had every intention of removing everything else. She wanted to feel clean and right now everything she wore told her of a harsh time she couldn't remember. If this planet could wash away the memory, then she sure as shit wanted to wash away the evidence.

She cringed for him when the shirt obviously stuck to his wounds. She almost reached out to help him, but she wasn't so sure she could do anything about it. He just needed to tear it off like a bandaid, and they could deal with the consequences after. Still, she felt bad that he had to.

A flash of surprise went over her face when Logan started toward the water, having only removed his shirt, but she was too tired to give him a hard time about it. He stopped anyway, and before she even had the mind to try and bend to remove her own shoes, he was doing it for her. Something warm wove through her chest, and one corner of her mouth lifted at his kindness; she didn't have enough energy for her brain to morph his action into something ugly, so she saw it for what it was. Before she could say thanks, though, he was brusquely telling her to take off her pants and walking away. At another time, she'd hurl some snippy comment at him, but for now she was content to take the order. She'd been about to do it anyway.

Thankfully, her shorts were easy to wiggle out of. One button and a zipper undone, and she only had to push the material past the flare of her hips to get it to fall to the ground. Stepping out of them, she made her way to the water. She didn't care if her underwear got wet - those would be easy enough to dry - but having a soaking wet bra was a giant no thank you. So once she was close enough that she could sink under the water shortly after, she undid the clasp and tossed the material to the shore. Not that she particularly cared right now whether or not Logan saw anything (it was hella dark anyway), she dipped below the surface before moving closer to him. They could have stayed separate - hell, they didn't need to be anywhere near the other's vicinity - but after.. whatever happened to them, she didn't relish the thought of being farther apart than necessary.

"Yep," she agreed tensely, the cool water making her more aware of her own injury. It was probably good for it, but she'd really been hoping the water would be warmer than this. Apparently she had a menagerie of other little cuts and scrapes, but none of them registered the way the break did. "I'm just grateful I'm only broken in one place," she said, managing a single chuckle before she groaned from the movement of her chest. "And you... be thankful you weren't eviscerated," she pointed out, voice more tender as she drew a little closer to try and get a better look at the lacerations. It was far too dark, though.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

on't downplay how extensive your injuries are," she scolded mildly, very gently reaching out a hand to rest over them for emphasis. The take-care-of-herself mentality had her wanting to probe the wounds to understand how deep they went and how serious the problem truly was, but she wouldn't do that to Logan. She wasn't prepared to put him in more pain than he already was.

"Stop breathing so deeply, and your cuts will pull less," she suggested, tired, fuzzed brain not understanding that it was in reaction to her... and her touching him probably wasn't helping.

He handed her... shampoo? "This isn't supposed to go in the river," she said dutifully, though she opened the bottle and squeezed a little bit into her palm regardless. She started to bend backwards to dip her hair again, but stopped a fraction of the way because of the way it pulled at her injury and decided to bend at the knees instead. Coming back up, she tipped her head back and massaged the soap into a lather. A long sigh left her at how good it felt to bathe, and for that reason her hands stayed in her hair a little longer than necessary.

Wait a second- Had he said he was grateful she was only as hurt as she was? Realization hitting her, Farrah's eyes popped open and her chin lowered so she could look at him. Frozen, her gaze searched his face for several long seconds, fingers still stuck in sudsy locks. She didn't say anything, because pointing it out now was pretty late, and what did a person say to that? Thanks for being worried about me?

....Yeah, actually. Something tender crossed her expression, and much like he had done, she distracted herself by taking a step back - so the soap would flow away from him and not sting his wounds - and dunking under the water again. Coming up for air, she wiped the water from her face.. and realized the space between herself and Logan was now much smaller. Shit, she must've leaned forward without realizing when she surfaced, or something. Either that or he'd taken a step, but she dismissed the thought.

In her mind, she stepped back to give him space. In reality, she did absolutely nothing.