[Gift] Can't tell if I'm right, if I'm wrong, It's my bad habit

Against their better judgement, the trio had set up the most pitiful of makeshift camps while the battle raged on nearby.

A secluded spot, not far enough to have completely abandoned the other islanders, but behind enough rocks and isolated trees to offer some protection from the fight. Just while they took a moment to recover.

Just a moment.

The biting chill of snow against her face dulled Scout's pain enough for her to insist upon re-entering the battle, but Koma and Temper's collective disapproval, both verbal and non-verbal, had dashed that idea pretty swiftly. So there they sat, blizzard still raging around them, terrified screams carried by the air ending far too soon for either nyulop to be comfortable. At least a drawn out scream implied life…

“We really should've packed medical supplies…” Koma fretted behind her, still scouring their meager supplies for anything that would treat fresh wounds better than snow.

He'd told her not to watch the fight, that the sounds were bad enough, but she couldn't help herself. To even need to do this at all, to sit aside while their fellow islanders continued to fight for their lives, it didn't sit right with her at all. But she couldn't deny the ache setting in, the dull stinging throb of her cuts still oozing blood down her face…if she went back out now, it'd be suicide.

She shuddered at the thought that nestled its way to the forefront of her mind at that notion, not even wanting to acknowledge it.

“Your face- my arm- they could get infected, then we'd- we'd die before that- that thing can even get to us-”
“...Koma, you're spiraling again.” Scout's voice was hoarse, quiet. Far from the boisterous and confident demeanour she'd carried at the start of their expedition.

Perhaps it had died in Teles’ arms.

“We'll be okay. You don't feel sick, right?”
“I- I do actually-”
“Well, that's probably just… nerves.” She held a paw up to her face in barely concealed exasperation. “They do that, right? You get yourself all in a tizzy, and then- well, you just want to throw everything up because you're so scared! Right?”
“...yeah, you're right.” Koma still sounded uncertain, but he refrained from arguing further. Just continued searching supplies he'd already rifled through ten times over.

The sound was starting to get to Scout, her foot thumping impatiently against the floor as she continued to intently watch a fight that she was sitting out of.

Watching fellow islanders die.

How pathetic was she?

“...I need some air.” Scout mentally prepared herself for protest, about how it was unsafe, how they were already outside, but it never came. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder, tired blue eyes into wide anxious green.

They didn't need words. The unlucky nuulop only spared a look to Temper, then back to Koma, a silent request.

Should I die, take care of each other.

Before her legs sluggishly carried her back out into the raging blizzard, expression unreadable.

Truthfully, Scout was lost in thought, a small spark of hope glimmering against her otherwise downtrodden mood.

Teles was either still out there, or dead. The nyulop she'd hugged before was a trick, the siren's cruel hunting method - take the form of a loved one to lure them in!

If she saw Teles again, she just had to keep her distance and chat, verify that it was truly her. Ask her something only she would know, or…

Well, something. She was thinking it through as she walked, so didn't have every detail. Scout didn't like to have all the details all the time anyway - that was more Koma's thing.

The wind roared in her ears, what was left of them at least, as the flecks of snow threatened to chip away at more of her fur and skin. She'd stopped being able to feel her feet properly a while ago, the chill having set in deep under her pelt.

If they made it through this, she was pulling out all the stops in terms of warm up methods back home.

Through the thick white blanket of whipping winds and heavy snow, Scout realised she'd lost sight of the silhouettes of battle, her legs autopiloting her to…somewhere. She could still hear it, the screams and the shrieks, but somehow her passive survival instincts hadn't taken her directly into danger.

So she thought, at least. Echoing over the howl of the wind was a voice she thought she wouldn't hear again, stopping her numb paws in their tracks.

She didn't quite know how to feel, but it didn't invoke the relief she thought it would. Her guard was up this time.

“Scout? Oh, Scout, it's you!”
“Don't come any closer!” Scout snapped, and the figure ahead of her stopped, flinching as though the outburst was unexpected.

It gave the nyulop pause, considering for just a moment that maybe this was the real Teles. She steeled herself, though - oh how proud of her Temper would be for keeping her wits about her - and kept her gaze firm, expression betraying absolutely nothing.

“It's me, Scout…don't you recognise me?” The silhouette of her mentor figure swayed in the wind. Even a fool could tell she was injured. “It's so…cold. That terrible beast- it attacked me, tossed me aside before I could warn you all…”

Scout still didn't respond, watching her closely for any sudden movements. A weapon, a transformation…she herself had taught her not to lose sight of the enemy, after all - surely that could extend to allies as well. Allies that could become the enemy. Allies the enemy had already taken the form of to deceive her before.

“...It hurts, Scout, I need help…” Teles continued to beg, her tone tugging at the other nyulop's heartstrings. It pained her to keep such a distance. “Won't you come over here?”

“Uh…yeah, just…give me a moment.” Scout lied through her teeth, no intention of coming over just yet. She had to be sure, absolutely certain this wasn't another illusion. Her remaining eye darted around, surveying the area for anything she could use for self defence should it come to it. It seemed she'd have to settle for claws and teeth once again, though… “Could you uh…take your poncho off for me?”

Teles’ silhouette seemed to stiffen ever so slightly, clear shock she tried to stifle present for at least a breath. “...why would you need me to do that?”

Her tone had changed, something bubbling barely under the surface.

“Well, uh…” Scout tapped her foot on the floor, momentarily stalling for an excuse. Why would she need the poncho off? “...well, me and Koma we- we didn't bring any medical supplies. If you're bleeding…we'll need something to wrap around it, right?”

She felt so smart.

“You could use your coat.” Teles’ response was blunt, matter-of-fact. Almost annoyed.
“I mean- I could…” Oh dear, that was a really good point. Scout fidgeted awkwardly with her paws, yet again stalling for a response. “But- uh-”

“Do you not trust me, Scout?”

The wind seemed to howl louder, though Scout couldn’t tell if that was actually the case or if it was the blood roaring in her ears. The obvious answer to Teles’ question was yes, a resounding yes with no hesitation.

So why was she hesitating?

“I do trust you.” The nyulop’s response took far too long, as though she had to claw the words from her own throat, force them out like a bad meal. “Could I ask…why you don’t want to take your poncho off?”
“It’s cold, Scout.” It was Teles’ turn to snap, taking a stumbling step forwards against the wind, “Why are you so hesitant to take off your coat? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No!” Scout was getting desperate, claws sliding out as she took a step back in turn, keeping the distance between them. “No, Teles I just- I need to know that you’re real!”

The outburst left an uncomfortable silence between the pair, Scout taking the time to catch her breath while the nyulop across from her just seemed stunned.

Then Teles laughed.

A quiet sound, one that should’ve invited the other to join in.

But Scout remained silent, her heart racing in her chest. Something felt wrong.

“Of course I’m real, Scout.” Teles’ voice echoed above the howl of the blizzard, still so kind, so friendly, a clear attempt at reassurance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because- because the monster tricked me.” Scout felt so stupid saying it, admitting to being stupid enough to fall for a clear trick. “It- it pretended to be you. So…I guess I just…I thought…”

The words died in her throat for a moment, choked out by the raging storm around them, the icy air feeling all the more suffocating. She clenched her fist, claws digging into her palm in some attempt to ground herself.

“I thought maybe…” It was her turn to laugh, though not out of amusement, “Maybe if you were…an illusion, the poncho would be attached to you?”
“I’m not an illusion.” Teles took yet another step forward, reaching out a paw invitingly towards Scout. “I can prove it, you wouldn’t be able to touch an illusion, right?”
“...that’s the thing.” One could practically see the cogs turning in Scout’s head, dots she’d kept firmly far apart beginning to connect themselves. “I did touch you. Or- well- the siren pretending to be you. And it felt real. You felt real…”

Scout looked up from the particularly interesting patch of snow she’d been clearing from the hard stone below with her foot, eyes meeting Teles’. Once inviting pools of blue, now as cold as the snow that threatened to swallow them whole. Plunging an icy dagger into Scout’s very soul.

“...you’re not…?”

“Would you think differently of me if I was?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Scout’s breath shuddered in her throat, not daring to make the full journey to her lungs yet.

“If you were the monster…?”
“Yes, Scout. That is what I’m asking.”

“...no.” She looked away, unable to hold eye contact for much longer. “But…I would think differently of you if…if that means it was you that tore half of my face off.”

It took Teles another moment to respond, seemingly mulling over her reply.

“...that’s a shame.”

It happened in an instant.

A flash of cloudy white, obscuring Scout’s vision for just long enough for Teles’ hunched figure to be replaced by the hulking serpentine beast. A roar, familiar and defensive, the unmistakable disturbance of large wings swooping past her face.

The nyulop watched as the newcomer kited the creature, not quite able to make them out against the ever-raging blizzard. They swooped in for a bite, then disengaged, keeping this song and dance going for what felt like hours…

That was, of course, until their luck ran out and the beast struck, rows upon rows of teeth digging deep into her protector’s wing. It howled in pain, and only then did Scout recognise her-

It was Temper.

Her beloved companion, come to her rescue, now being thrashed around like a chew toy. Scout’s feet moved on their own, outstretched paw reaching out in some awkward, pitiful attempt to help. It was a gesture more than anything, the poor nyulop mostly stuck there watching the fight get cut short. Her mind was begging her body to move more than a step, get over there, help her-

Temper’s limp body thudded against the floor as she was tossed aside. Scout refused to blink, she couldn’t, even as tears welled up and her eye began to sting.

She stumbled towards her bond, the monster forgotten. Collapsed at her side, trembling paws gripping whatever part of her she could find purchase on - chunks of fur gripped in her paws, still gentle. The last thing she wanted to do was cause Temper more pain.

Still warm.

Scout watched, not daring to blink, for any sort of movement, any sign of life. The subtle rise and fall of her chest, a ragged breath taken, tinged with pain.

She let go of her own breath, one she didn’t realise had been held hostage in her throat. Still, warm liquid trailed down her face, and she knew it wasn’t blood this time.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if Temper had died.

Still, she was hurt. Because of her.

“...ffuck..” Scout mumbled, mostly to herself. She ran her paw along the vertois’ wing, oozing blood, stark crimson against her beautiful cloudy white fur and feathers. It was bent completely out of shape, likely snapped when she was unceremoniously flung aside…

With a quiet apology and little hesitation, the nyulop took her coat off, desperately attempting to use it to soak up at least some of the blood. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I’m- sorry if this hurts, I don’t know what to do, fuck- fuck I’msosorry-”

A deep, rumbling noise came from the vertois, stopping Scout’s frantic fumbling in her tracks. Her eye was open, staring intently at her bond.

It’s okay.