Serene, Tranquil. Violent, Hurtful.

"She's closer than I thought." Crow woke Yetta up, the huntress groaning in distaste. "It won't be long until she knows we're here."

"Mm. Comforting," Yetta said dryly. She took the scavenged rations offered to her, biting into a mostly frozen brownie. "Where'd you find these?"

"In a small bag outside. There wasn't that many."

Yetta tensed. "In a small bag?"

"Yeah."

"Show me."

Crow led her to the bag, worried. Yetta took a deep breath in, the bitter chill stinging her lungs. "She knows."

"What?"

"Her game's begun." Yetta picked the bag up, looking inside. Just a few ration packs. Something to last the two of them a couple meals. "The more food she feeds us, the closer she is to killing us." She brought the rations out, tossing the bag to the side. "Corrupted will keep us desperate for food. Something to keep us brave enough to sneak closer to her and get more."

"This is all a game to her, isn't it?"

"She likes her toys, what can I say?" Yetta's hands shook. Crow took them, softly kissing her head. "We're dead, aren't we?"

"What makes you say that?" He cupped her cheek, almost missing the small flinch from Yetta. 

"I'm in Hell. And I've dragged you down with me."

. . .

Hide and seek was what it basically was. Yetta brought Crow out of their shelter, running across the barren landscape. The cold had hit them full force as the door was opened. It was a windy day, snow swirling around the two. She bit her lip, bracing herself. Crow wrapped around her, trying to keep her upright. "We'll have no choice," she grit out. "We have to go to the Bray facility."

"Then I'll make sure we make it there." Warmth spread across her body, Yetta looking up. Crow was using Solar, something to keep them both warm. She sighed softly, grateful. 

Once they reached the facility, the doors slid open easily, letting them in. Lights flickered on, traveling down the hallway. "We can find a chair, something made out of either cloth or wood," she explained. "Something to start a fire."

Crow nodded wordlessly. Distantly, they heard Lament rev, and Yetta's breath hitched. Crow grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "I don't want to hear anything about my relationship with you after this," he joked. "Team bonding?" 

She nodded, her turn to be silent. "Hey, we'll get through this. I promise," he stroked her hair, and for a second, Yetta was back the first time, feeling Corrupted's hand tugging harshly to pull her down. But his hand was meant to comfort, not hurt. Yetta forced herself to relax a bit, loosening her grip on her knife.

"We're going to die here," she whispered, hopeless. "She'll make sure of it."

"We won't let her. Ghosts or not, we'll get out of here."

. . .

Carman sat on Ms. Noble's couch, sipping her cup of tea. Her hands were shaking as she knocked on the elderly lady's door, Louella quickly making chamomile tea to soothe her nerves. Not a word was spoken between the two. Either Louella had heard about Yetta quickly, or she had pieced it together, fast. Either way, she had already known. Cherry was safe and secure in her apartment, whining softly. 

Louella stared at her cup, blankly. "They *will* find her, won't they?" she asked softly. "Her and that young man?"

"Crow? Yeah, we'll find them." The promise sounded empty. She wouldn't say the rest. The hope that they'd find the two hunters before her corrupted version killed them. Yetta had said that she enjoyed ripping limbs apart. Finding the two in one piece would be a miracle. 

"You'd better. That young girl deserves so much better than that world."

"They both do."

"You have a good team looking for them?"

"I do," she confirmed. Louella nodded, quietly. Carman didn't know her that well, but she knew this level of silence from the elder was uncommon. She didn't even have music softly playing, something to give a backdrop for her guests. 

"I have outlasted three husbands," Ms. Noble admitted. "Two were poisoned, they never found the one. I can't live with outlasting a guardian. This old woman can't handle that." She chuckled, hollowly. 

"How do you get so lucky to outlive three husbands, Ms. Noble?"

"Rat poison goes a long way," she alluded. "Gets rid of your problems."

Carman looked at her, surprised. "They weren't taken from you, were they?"

Louella chuckled. "Relax, Dear. I'm on my medicines, and Yetta's never had anything to fear from me. Sometimes, a girl has to do what she has to do. You'd understand that, completely. Wasn't his name Uldren?"

Carman started. "Are you attempting to guilt me? Now?"

"No, no. Never. We are both above that tactic. Your alternate self, however, sounds like she'd stoop that low. And if she stoops that low, Yetta can hit her with her own tactics. Do you see where I'm going with this?" Louella stood up, setting her cup down. "I hear you're making a team to rescue her."

"I am." Carman set her cup down, put off by the mention of rat poison, even if it couldn't affect her. Ms. Noble went into her closet, rummaging around. "Your point?"

"I've lived more than enough. Taken a few lives during the dark ages," she admitted. "That life is behind me." She set a small stack of papers down on the table, pushing it forwards. "I'll confess to the murders, if you bring her back. Alive. Bring them both back in one piece, no matter what you have to do. Even if it means ripping yourself to shreds."

She sat back, content. "They won't care about the murders, not at this point," Carman pointed out.

"My third husband is a cold case. Unsolved. They'll take interest, rest assured."

Carman took a deep breath. "You know the killing blow has to be Yetta's," she prompted.

"I'm aware. Closure and all. I will say, since I've met that girl, and everybody around her, my life has been brighter." She smiled softly. "You'll get my tea collection, of course. I have never met anybody who drinks tea like you do."

"Why would you do this?" Carman flipped through the confession note curiously. "It doesn't make sense."

"I'd rather not die in my own home, and have Yetta come down to visit. It wouldn't be right. Prison it is!" She walked over, a store bought tin of butter cookies in her hand. "I'm sick, Dear. Any month now, I expect."

"That's…bleak."

"Very." Louella popped a cookie into her mouth, whining in disappointment. "Not as good as Yetta's," she mourned. "I'm afraid that 'bleak' is the way of the mortal, however. Speaking of, where are their ghosts?"

. . .