Crawling back to my feet, I lifted my shirt collar to my nose and wiped the snot away with it, and then I spoke in a nasally voice.
"I'm okay. Are you hurt at all?"
She timidly shook her head, with her hands covering her mouth.
I followed up by asking, "Are there any others in there?"
She shook her head again.
I lifted my broken hand right as I was about to ask a question, sending a painful stinging sensation to my brain, halting my train of thought.
The girl nervously bent down and rolled up a snowball. Then standing back up, she held it out in the palms of her tiny hands for me to grab.
"T-Thank you very much," I stuttered as I gently lifted the snowball off and placed it on my swelling broken hand.
She nodded while looking down at the ground.
I looked away in response and asked, "Do you know what happened? Why we are in this situation, I mean."
After a long pause, she began to speak.
"You passed out as the fight went on. Two of them…"
The words caught in her throat.
"They got shot… by the farmer. And the farmer was killed as well."
I closed my eyes with shame. If I hadn't taken Adam up there, he wouldn't have been shot, nor would those other two men either. And, If I didn't disturb a scared old man amid an apocalyptic crisis, he wouldn't have had to been killed as well. All of this death, it all lead back to me… it always did.
I fell to my knees with a look of lifelessness fading my eyes.
"And this bird, it was my fault too?"
She was taken aback by the phrasing of the question.
"N-No… Of course not. It's just…"
It's just?
She shook her head and continued, "The gunfire must have drawn it over, or something."
I started laughing hysterically.
"So, it is my fault."
Roughly jerking my hair, I began to ramble, sounding like a mad man who thought he had just reached an earth-shattering epiphany.
"It's always been all my fault. My little brother's death, my dog's death, my best friend's death, my grandma's death, the 600 million people who've died from the deluded fantasies that this cursed brain of mine manifested—"
Suddenly, I felt a long-forgotten sensation encase me. I was smothered in it.
She hugged my head tightly while shouting, "It's not your fault! None of it's your fault! And It never has been!"
I was frozen solid, and yet I felt so warm in that moment.
"But—"
"No! You saved my life. Don't you remember?"
What was she talking about? I couldn't remember anything like that.
She continued, "During that fight, that bird-thing swooped in to get me, and you ran up and covered me with your body, saying that you wouldn't ever let anyone hurt me. Then it chewed you up while I was swallowed completely unscathed.
Looking down at my clothes, I saw that they were torn and ragged.
"Yeah, I guess that sounds plausible."
She laughed and smiled. It was a warm smile. A smile I hadn't seen in years. So many long, lonely years.
I shook my head and contended, "No, that can't be right. How is that possible? I passed out as soon as I handed Adam off."
She looked up to think and then replied, "Maybe you're will to protect is so strong that it forced you to act even while unconscious."
I laughed off the silly notion.
"I probably just got hit on the head and forgot."
She stepped away and asked, "What now?"
I looked at the setting sun and responded, "We need to stay inside this beast for the night. It'll keep us warm. I'll search inside for supplies and survivors—"
"Can I help," she offered.
I looked away and shook my head, "I'm sorry, but it's not a lady's line of work."
"So, what if I'm a lady—"
"No. not gonna happen."
I took a deep breath and continued, "Whether it is bigoted or not for me to think that way, I simply don't care. I'll deal with the bodies. If you want to help out, then try figuring out which way north is, or maybe look for some landmarks."
She stuttered, "O-Okay."
I turned and climbed into the beak of the roc and yelled back, "Be careful not to fall! It might be slippery!"
Falling to my knees, I begin to burrow my way down the beast's esophagus back to its crop.
After a certain amount of distance in I was, once again, incapable of seeing anything.
"I may regret this later, but it's useful in the short-term."
---
[Attribute Point/s Spent]
---
---
[User: Henry Miller]
[Race: Juggernaut]
[Class: Spiteful Loser]
[Lv: 0]
[Xp: 0/100]
[Body: 11]
[Mental: 11]
[Senses: 15]
[Magic: 0]
[Skills: Racial ability (Uncanny Regeneration), Racial ability (Stomach Pocket-Dimension), Class ability (Fearless Resolve)]
[Traits: Racial trait (Starting attributes are unaffected by this race), Class trait (Attributes don't increase by leveling up), Class trait (Starting attributes are unaffected by this class)]
---
It was still pitch-black, but when I moved, I subconsciously recognized the placement of the things immediately surrounding me. I had the ability of echolocation, or at least something slightly less effective.
Reaching the roc's crop, I yelled, "Hello! Anyone alive, give me a sign!"
There weren't any responses even after waiting for a full minute.
"I guess we really were the only ones to survive."