Not sure of what else to do, Sammy did as Rourke had said. Each movement of his hand hurt, and he was careful as he pulled his sweatpants off, laying them out near the fire before picking up the smaller of two pelts Rourke had said he could use. It was really soft, almost velvet in nature, and despite being cold, and his skin still wet, Sammy wrapped himself up in it before sitting down next to the fire.
Still shivering, he looked around the small cave. It was pretty plain, but large enough as to not feel claustrophobic. The floor was fairly clean, considering it was a stone floor, with minimal dirt scattered about. Shadows flickered against the walls from the fire, but the rain could barely be heard, giving Sammy a sense of safety and oddly familiar comfort at being out of the elements and the storm.
This entire mess was beyond confusing and Sammy wasn't really sure where to start. Thinking back to seeing Rourke kill that monster so brutally made his stomach twist in sickness and fear. He had never seen anything like that before, and despite how willing he was to help, Sammy couldn't help but worry that maybe Rourke was a bit of a nutcase. Taking a deep breath, Sammy decided to work through one thing at a time.
His hand and eye were throbbing now that he was sitting and able to take a moment to really think about what had happened. Raising his hand, Sammy could see bits of dirt and mirror embedded into his knuckles, and the one large cut across his palm hurt quite a bit. He couldn't see the black eye he knew he had, but he could feel it when he gingerly pressed his fingers against his cheek under his eye. It was going to be sore for a while. Sammy was just thankful he could still see out of that eye.
Despite how insane this entire situation was, things just didn't seem to add up for Sammy. For starters, he didn't feel tired anymore. In fact, he hadn't felt this energized in days. He figured it was most likely adrenaline from being cold and scared while out in the middle of a forest he didn't recognize. Not that he would be able to recognize any forest, he preferred the beach over trees. Secondly, his reflection and the bathroom mirror. He knew he was awake when that happened, but he could have sworn his reflection came through it at him, despite it obviously looking like he punched the mirror himself. However, that did not explain his black eye, nor how he got into the forest either. He thought maybe he'd been drugged, but now that he was a bit calmer, he pushed that thought from his mind. He'd been home alone, and had only eaten at work that day; there was no way he'd been slipped something at any point. No, despite how weird this situation was, the only logical conclusion was that this was real, as crazy as that actually sounded.
Rourke entering the cave pulled Sammy from his thoughts and he twisted to watch the other man as he walked back over to the fire. Setting the bowl down — it appeared to be made of stone — Rourke removed his sword and knife from his person, setting them on the floor next to the bowl. Without even hesitating, Rourke pulled his shirt off over his head, laying it out on the floor near Sammy's pants before finally turning to face Sammy.
Inhaling sharply, Sammy turned his head away before he stared too long. Now that he had taken that hood off, which had apparently been attached to his shirt, Sammy could see that Rourke was pretty good looking, but his attention was instantly pulled to the other man's stomach where several long, horrible scars marred his skin. They looked old, but Sammy could still tell they were claw marks of some sort, making Sammy wonder just how it was Rourke had got them. He must have spoken because as Rourke sat down across from him, the look on his face was sadness mixed with something akin to 'I don't want to talk about it.'
"Happened when I was younger," Rourke explained anyway. "I got them from a Wolf attack." Taking a deep breath, he held out his hand. "Let me see your hand, the glass has to come out before it gets infected."
Sammy held out his hand for Rourke, watching him as he gently took Sammy's hand in his own. After looking at the cuts for a moment, Rourke reached for his boot, pulling a small knife out and comfortably holding it in his hand. "What are you doing?" Sammy pulled his hand free, meeting Rourke's eyes as the two looked at one another. Sammy had never seen eyes that were the color of Rourke's before and could see the fire dancing in the amber flecks of his gray irises. His eyelashes were the same weird dark green of his hair, and while Sammy could believe that Rourke's hair was dyed that color, his eyelashes were something else entirely. Ironically, Rourke's eyes suited his almond colored skin, the deep brown highlighting the golden flecks in the low firelight.
"I need to take the glass out of your hand."
"Don't you have tweezers of something better suited for that?" Sammy frowned. "Actually, isn't there someone around who is in charge of injuries and the like?"
"A shaman? No, just me. I can leave the glass if you really want me to, but that's not really a wise decision. I'm not going to hurt you, well, I'm not going to try to hurt you, but I do need to take the glass out, and some of it looks pretty deep." Rourke took a deep breath. "Why in the light did you punch a — what did you say you hit?"
"A mirror, I think."
"Yeah, why would you punch a mirror?" Rourke took Sammy's hand again and raised the knife toward his hand carefully, watching Sammy for a reaction. When Sammy didn't move, Rourke slowly started digging the pieces of glass from his skin with the tip of the blade. He worked slowly and meticulously, trying his best to not hurt Sammy anymore than he already had been. Sammy watched Rourke as he worked, trying to not flinch or tense his hand when Rourke dug at the deeper pieces of glass with the small knife. It was fascinating for Sammy to see Rourke work, and to see how deftly he handled his little knife.
Rourke didn't seem to care that Sammy hadn't answered him, and after several minutes of quiet Sammy took a deep breath, unable to stand the silence any longer. "So where are we? We must be really far out into the forest. There are no signs of life out here at all."
Stopping in what he was doing, Rourke looked up, confusion clear on his face. "There's life all around us. Most of it was probably hiding from the storm, or the Wolves." Rourke took a deep breath and sighed heavily as he went back to his work. "I don't remember Molly being this ignorant."
"Okay, well, for starters, that was rude. Secondly, who is Molly?"
Rourke pulled the last piece of glass from Sammy's knuckles, adding it to the small pile by the edge of the fire. "Molly is an Other I met shortly after I got my scars. She seemed a little more put together than you are, but I'm not sure how long I was sleeping either, so that could be part of it. I missed when she first got here."
"And where is here," Sammy asked, filing the rest of what Rourke said away for later. "And what's an Other?"
"Other Dweller," Rourke started as he set his knife down. He stood up, moved over to his backpack and rummaged through it before coming back to sit with Sammy holding a strip of cloth. "Others they are called for short. Molly is an Other, you are an Other. They are people that appear here; pulled here somehow by the Mistwalkers."
"And where is here," Sammy asked, flexing his hand. His knuckles were sore, swollen, and would probably bruise a little, but the skin didn't feel tight like it had with the glass embedded under his skin. He held out his hand when Rourke motioned for it again, the cloth held in his hand now dripping with water from his bowl.
Rourke shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We aren't staying here long. After gathering some more food, we are moving on."
Sammy sighed in frustration. "That tells me nothing."
"That answers all your questions," Rourke replied, glancing up at him before returning to what he was doing. Sammy frowned as he watched Rourke wipe the blood off his hand before turning his hand over to look at the cut on his palm. "Open your hand all the way for me."
Sammy did so, feeling the beginning scabbing on his palm open with his movements. "What's the name of this forest," Sammy tried again, feeling himself getting more and more annoyed with Rourke's lack of actual answers.
"It doesn't have one. It's part of the darkness. Only the cities had names." Rourke's voice was quiet as he spoke. "The only city that is left is the Last City. That is where I am going."
"How can there only be one city," Sammy laughed. "I live in a city, and I know it's not the only city."
Rourke sighed and Sammy could sense the frustration in his posture as he moved. "I don't know what you think is going on, but whatever it is, you're wrong. There are no cities left, the Wolves and the Mistwalkers destroyed them all long ago. Wherever you think you are, you're not. You are here, with me, and I'm all you have if you plan on surviving."
Sammy looked up, and Rourke was looking right at him. His eyes, with their weird color, held a resolution that Sammy couldn't argue with, even if he wanted to. Even though he barely knew Rourke, he could tell the other man was telling him the truth. Sammy still had no idea what was going on, or what had happened to him, but he knew that Rourke wasn't lying to him, even with how bizarre his story claimed to be. Looking back down at their hands, Sammy nodded. "All right," he started quietly, feeling oddly small and lost all of a sudden. "So what happens now?"
"First, I wrap your hand so you don't bleed all over my pelt." Cleaning the cloth as best as he could in the bowl, Rourke wrung it out before beginning to wrap it around Sammy's hand. "Then I need to clean my sword and my knife before the blood dries on them. You can sit there and get warm."
"Okay." Sammy yawned as he spoke, feeling tired all of a sudden again. He still felt better than he had for days, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to stay awake much longer, the exhaustion of the situation finally catching up to him.
"You could sleep, too," Rourke added as he tied off the cloth and turned to scrape up the small pile of glass he had made, tossing the shards into the flames of the fire. Standing, he picked up the bowl and walked to the door of the cave. Pushing open the door, Sammy watched as Rourke dumped the soiled water from the bowl, set it down, then moved the door back into place.
"No, offense, but I'm not sure I really want to sleep with you messing around with sharp objects right next to me." Sammy watched as Rourke moved over to where he had set his weapons down, shifting himself against the wall of the cave so he could watch Sammy.
Rourke pulled a few things from his backpack, ignoring Sammy as he did. "If I wanted you dead," he started, picking up the sword and pulling the bloodied blade free of the scabbard. "I wouldn't have bothered saving you in the first place. There's nothing to worry about. Sleep if you are tired, you have nothing to fear."
"You're not making me feel any better," Sammy muttered to himself, getting a little more comfortable against the wall. He was feeling pretty good all things considered, the chill he had was pretty much gone now as he sat huddled under the fur Rourke let him use. Yawning again, Sammy could feel sleep crowding his senses. Rourke was busy with his task, not exactly ignoring Sammy, but not interacting with him either. Leaning his head back against the wall of the cave, Sammy decided that sleep sounded like a good idea, and that he would just have to take his chances on waking up in the morning.
***
Sammy woke with a start. Inhaling sharply, he sat up, looking around the small cave. Blinking as his mind began to catch up with his body, Sammy yawned. He was alone in the cave, but the fire was burning brightly. With a groan, he fell back to his side as he watched the fire. Some part of him had hoped this whole thing had been a crazy dream, but now that he'd had a good night's rest — or well, he hoped it had been night — Sammy was beginning to believe that this entire thing was real.
The stack of clothing Rourke had left for him was sitting near him, and Sammy reached out, picking up the hastily folded shirt. It was long sleeved like the one Rourke had been wearing but was missing the attached hood. The shirt was faded and old, but still good, and a lot better than being naked. Quickly tugging the shirt on over his head, Sammy reached for the pants, surprised when he realized they were leather and in a similar condition as the shirt.
Wherever he was, and whatever was going on, Sammy was grateful for Rourke's help. Part of him still felt like there was no way this could be real, and he wanted to ask Rourke more questions about what was going on, but another part of him felt like there was no other explanation than to believe that everything had happened just as he remembered, without any tricks or hallucinations. He didn't know Rourke, but like the man said, he had no reason to help Sammy, and the fact that he did so spoke volumes to Sammy about what type of person Rourke was. There was also this innocence about Rourke that Sammy couldn't quite place, and he wanted to know more about him.
Sammy was just pulling the pants up over his hips when he heard the scrape of the wood from the door to the cave. Pulling the strings tight — the pants didn't have a zipper or button — Sammy turned to Rourke as he tied off the strings. "Morning," Sammy started. "Thanks for the clothes, and well, everything. I feel a little better this morning."
Rourke gave him a strange look, but nodded. "You're welcome." Pulling the door back into place, he walked over to the fire. "I caught a rabbit in one of the snares, so we will have some meat to eat once it's cooked." Sammy watched Rourke as he worked, spitting the butchered rabbit over the fire to cook before sitting back and sighing. After a moment, Rourke reached out and grabbed his small bag, pulling it open and taking out a handful of whatever was inside before offering it to Sammy. "I was going to go look for more food, but I heard some echo foxes out there. They are not something to mess with."
"What's an echo fox?" Sammy took the bag, looking down into it, seeing what looked like small, hard red berries in the bottom of it. "What are these?"
"Li'kai berries. They're good. Just eat them." Rourke popped one of the berries into his mouth, chewing before answering Sammy's other question. "Echo foxes are mean, that's what they are. They are pack hunters, and will attack just about anything. I heard an umbra out there, too, so they may have been chasing that. Umbras are huge beasts with antlers," Rourke explained, noticing the question on Sammy's face before he had the chance to ask. "They eat plants, but they are aggressive. That hide," Rourke pointed off to the larger of his two furs. "Is from an umbra."
Sammy nodded, picking up one of the berries from the bag. He hadn't thought about food before now, but now that it was in front of him, and Rourke was eating, he realized just how hungry he was. Rourke seemed to like the small berry, and Sammy didn't hesitate to follow Rourke's lead as he ate another one. Juice exploded across his tongue as Sammy bit down on the berry, a hybrid taste of strawberry and raspberry making him reach for a handful at the bottom of Rourke's bag before he'd even finished chewing.
Across from him, Rourke chuckled. "I told you they were pretty good."
"Yeah, they are," Sammy agreed, Rourke's relaxed nature easily spreading to himself. "What did you say they were called? They kind of remind me of strawberries."
"Li'kai," Rourke said again, a little slower. "What's a strawberry?"
"A berry. How have you never heard of a strawberry before?"
"How have you never heard of a li'kai berry before?"
"Fair," Sammy nodded. "So what's the plan if we can't go out to gather more food?"
Rourke was quiet as he watched Sammy for a moment. "We wait for them to leave, then we go out. They won't stay forever, and if we are lucky, they may take down that umbra and we can get some of the meat off of it."
Sammy nodded quietly as he ate another one of the li'kai berries. "Oh," he murmured, unsure of how he should feel about going back out into the woods. "Sounds like one hell of a plan."