Chapter Text
Token had been fourteen when he first stumbled upon the work of the great archivist Paemin De Lunar
The thick, leather-bound tome weighed heavily in his arms as he curled on the cold floor of the church library, tracing the golden letters of its title: “A Concise History of the Kingdom of Kupa’s Keep Expansion.”
It was a work well-known in academic circles, holding the title as the most thorough, meticulous account of nearly a thousand years of Kupa’s territorial growth. Factual, measured and detailed in all the ways a historical record should be.
All except for its very beginning. A short entry Token remembered well for being unfittingly poetic for an otherwise purely academic work.
“The Kingdom of Kupa’s Keep is a hungry thing.”
The text began, the ink cutting deep into the parchment, as though the writer’s hand itself had been pressed down by a great weight.
“For centuries now, Kupa has prided itself on power, generations of conquest stretching its reach wide, from the ashen western valleys of the Wastelands to the suntouched cliffs of Embercoast.
Observers of the era would be correct to describe the kingdom’s advance as akin to a great dragon crossing the continent. All-consuming and forever insatiable, its hunger knowing no bounds.
It swallowed villages and cities alike, their nations dissolved as easily as bones in the beast’s belly. It crept mile by mile into the fertile riverlands of Myrwood, then pressed east across the roads of Hearthbend, each spoil of war feeding the swelling pride of the capital, until the realm stretched like a long burn mark across the whole continent.
Centuries of conquest, all in a futile attempt to sate its endless greed.
This advance ended only when the forces of the Drow Elves of Zaron halted the final push at the Black Spire. Wounded and exhausted, the beast fell into a slumber that has now lasted three generations.
It is our duty, as children of the age of peace, to study this history well, for we cannot know when hunger will stir the beast awake once again.”
Back then, Token had almost scoffed at the dramatic sentiment of the author. To use such odd imagery. Comparing a kingdom to a dragon felt more like something straight from a children’s tale meant to scare them into obedience, not a respected historical record.
He had closed the book that day shaking his head, deciding to look for other, more promising books on the topic instead.
But he was reminded of the page again, less than a year later. The day the red dragon awakened from the depths of Zaron.
A creature of fire and rage circled above the Kupan fields, turning harvests into ash. As his family scrambled to aid their people and advise the king on how to fight the beast, Token watched in horror as entire villages vanished in flame, the sun choked in ever present smoke, the ground left black and bare where homes had once stood.
For the first time, he understood the hunger Paemin had written about. All-consuming. Insatiable. Knowing no bounds.
And standing amongst the ruins, as the red drake continued its journey across land barely healed from the wounds of conquest, Token remembered thinking, How fitting. A dragon empire eaten from within by a dragon.
Now, once again, Paemin’s warning echoed in his mind, overlapping with the text of the order they handed to the Watch. Awake again— Effective immediately—
For a freezing moment, he wasn’t in the Watch’s Hall. He was fourteen again, staring at the passage under candlelight, imagining the absurd image of a kingdom as a dragon. Except now the bookshelves around him blurred into a smears of uniforms and steel, all sound muffled and distant, like he was listening from behind a closed door.
He knew his friends were shouting. But the words broke uselessly against the fog in his mind, eyes unable to focus on anything specific, just a mess of movement and faces distorted by terror.
Insatiable— execution—
A hand collided with his shoulder. A sudden, desperate tug, and a voice reaching for him with urgency. Token’s eyes snapped into focus just long enough to see Tweek’s face twisted with panic, the barbarian’s hand yanking at the Bag of Holding attached to his hip.
Another yank.
He barely had time to register what was happening before the barbarian tore it free and, in a single rapid motion, turned the bag inside out.
White powder exploded outward like a tidal wave.
It slammed into the nearest guards, rolling through the room, a great avalanche. Shouts turned into hacking coughs as they collapsed under the weight of white substance, some dropping swords, others rubbing at their eyes furiously.
Token blinked. The haze in his mind finally cracked, just as the sergeant staggered back, eyes squeezed shut. “WHAT—WHAT IS THIS—?!”
“Seasoning!” Kenny shouted triumphantly, grabbing Token’s wrist and yanking him toward the door. They shoved through the cloud, through choking shouts and disoriented guards.
“AFTER—” cough “—AFTER THEM!” the sergeant roared as alarm bells began to scream.
The hall twisted ahead of them in sharp turns, all of them blindly turning corners in the desperate hope of finding an exit. Somewhere behind, muffled shouts and the angry stomps of blinded guards echoed closer.
They rounded another corner and skidded to a halt so abruptly it nearly knocked Token off his feet.
A full squad of guards blocked the corridor, their shields planted, blades and spears drawn. Token’s stomach dropped. They were surrounded.
“STOP!” the lead guard barked.
Craig tightened his grip on a short blade, one he’d managed to snatch on their way out, currently the only weapon the group possessed.
The guard’s gaze swept over them, landing on Token. On his skin. On his and Tweek’s ears. Unmistakable markings of elven blood.
“Humans,” the guard said, speaking past the drow entirely. “This does not concern you.”
Token’s throat closed even as Butters instinctively stepped in front of him.
“Surrender the elves,” the guard ordered, “and the Watch will allow you to walk free. We are authorized to show mercy to cooperating citizens.”
Tweek’s breath hitched. Token glanced at him, his pupils blown wide, breathing uneven. He knew he looked no better, the terrible clarity of the situation hanging thick in the air.
They were outnumbered. Disarmed. Cornered. And their friends would be fools not to comply.
“Alright,” Kenny spoke first, raising her hands in surrender. “How about…”
A hand clamped around Token’s arm. He turned, bracing himself for betrayal, but instead met Clyde’s eyes, sharp with determination.
“...YOU SUCK IT, ASSHOLES!” Kenny finished triumphantly and right after a violent crash cracked through the air.
Token spun just in time to see Craig finishing the swing, smashing the window lattice with the hilt of the stolen blade. Glass burst outward in a screaming rain of shards as icy wind rushed in.
“MOVE!”
Clyde yanked Token backward. He only saw Kenny and Craig both flipping the guards off, before they all dove through the opening, bursting out onto a steep slate roof.
Tiles scraped and shattered beneath them, boots skidding desperately for purchase as gravity dragged them toward the edge.
Token caught himself at the last second, nails breaking as he clawed against tiles. Beneath him, the drop yawned deep and merciless, promising immediate death.
A spear tip flew through the shattered window frame behind them, swishing just past his head. He scrambled upright, heart pounding as the roof threatened to slide out from under his feet.
“IDIOTS! CATCH THEM!” someone roared, and guards began hesitantly pushing their way onto the roof.
With no other option they ran. They slipped and caught one another whenever someone pitched too far sideways, barely keeping each other from falling. More than once, someone gasped as they nearly lost their footing, only to be yanked back at the last second.
They ran, until they couldn’t anymore.
The roof ended in a hard drop, slate giving way to empty air. Below them, the street loomed dark and brutal. Across the gap, the opposing building stood, far and unreachable.
Token glanced back. The guards were advancing slowly, shields raised, but they were closing in. Inevitable.
He threw up a hand, magic surging hot and wild through his veins. A firebolt tore from his palm, streaking orange across the rooftop and splashed uselessly against a raised shield, bursting into harmless sparks.
Oh, fuck.
“Just jump!” Kenny said suddenly, giving them no time to react before she took the leap of faith, hands outstretched far.
“KENNY, NO—”
She didn’t make it halfway towards the opposing building..Her body plummeted down, vanishing from sight before the sound reached them. A sickening crack, the wet splash of blood.
“OH MY GOD! IT KILLED KENNY!” Tweek screamed.
Token peeked over the edge, saw her body sprawled and unmoving, and snapped his gaze back to the guards, his mind scrambling for a way that didn’t end with all of them dead. But the only way out led down.
“Clyde!” Craig tore his cape free then, the heavy fabric snapping violently in the wind. “Get over here! Grab the other end!”
Clyde stumbled toward him as Craig looped the cape around his wrist and dropped flat against the roof. Tweek was at his side instantly, white-knuckled hands gripping the thief as he braced himself.
“I’ll lower you as far as I can.”
“I—okay, okay!” Clyde gasped, already backing over the edge. The cape strained, seams creaking dangerously.
Token cast again. Fire flashed across the roof, forcing the guards to halt and raise shields, slowing their approach just a bit.
Craig growled through clenched teeth, arms shaking as he stretched as far as possible. “Lead with your feet and drop!”
“WHAT—”
“NOW!”
Clyde let go.
He fell the remaining distance, hitting the ground below with a bone-rattling crash. His pained cry echoed all around.
A spear slammed into the roof inches from Token’s foot.
He shot the ball of fire again, the firebolt traveling a terrifyingly shorter distance than before. His blood burned, magic surging dangerously hot in his veins.
“I’m gonna heal them,” Butters said, voice firm with determination as soon as Clyde showed signs of being alive.
Craig and Tweek barely had time to brace before the paladin climbed over the edge, lowering himself in a frantic scramble, fingers slipping against fabric.
“Thank God you’re not wearing that stupid heavy armor,” Craig hissed, barely holding the cape steady as Butters’ weight dragged them all closer to edge.
Then Tweek screamed. The next spear struck cleanly into his exposed side.
The force knocked him forward, dragging Craig with him, and both of them slided over the edge in a shower of loose slates.
At once Token heard Butters hit the ground, his breath knocked painfully from his lungs, mixed with Tweek’s strangled cry of pain.
He looked down, bracing to see bodies of his friends on the ground, but instead saw Craig and Tweek pressed flat against stone, their bleeding fingers jammed into cracks the only thing keeping them from falling the rest of the way.
Token barely registered Craig speaking, his voice breathless but soft, to Tweek, his words drowned by barbarian’s sobs as every little movement stirred the spear inside him.
Somehow they managed to begin a slow and painful descent down the wall, hands trembling, boots scraping desperately.
The roof behind Token filled with armored silhouettes. The drop waited ahead.
With time for one last spell, he drew in a shaking breath, forcing the incantation through clenched teeth as magic boiled in his chest. The familiar warmth of healing coiled tight in his body. He held it there on the verge of releasing and… jumped.
The fall stretched endlessly as he watched the ground approach, until there was no distance left. The instant his feet struck stone, Token released the spell.
Pain exploded white and hot up his legs, bones cracked under the force and instantaneously light surged through him, searing and soothing all at once.
Fractures of his flesh screamed as they shattered and knit together simultaneously, body trembling as the impact and magic reshaped it.
He collapsed on the ground, tears flooding his vision. Alive.
He looked up just in time to see Tweek lose his grip, the barbarian slipping with a strangled yelp and dropping straight into Clyde’s ready arms.
The impact nearly sent them both down, the fighter’s legs buckling under the weight.
“It’ll be over soon,” Butters promised in a trembling whisper. “Please. Just stay strong a little longer.”
Tweek nodded weakly, swallowing a cry as Butters ripped the spear free, the wound choking with scarlet right after. Soon enough the paladin pressed shining hands to it, pouring scraps of what little divine power he had into closing his injuries.
Then Kenny’s body jerked violently. Breath tore back into her lungs as her patron dragged her across the threshold of death once more.
She coughed, choking on air, eyes wild and unfocused, fingers clawing at the blood-soaked fabric of her dress as she curled in on herself.
“I think,” she rasped, forcing herself upright, “I miscalculated.”
“I doubt you were thinking at all,” Craig landed hard but controlled, boots hitting stone as he rolled through the impact.
Above them, guards leaned over the edge, shouting orders. Their silhouettes stark against the sky.
There was no time to recover. They had to move.
Adrenaline was the only thing keeping them upright, pushing their aching limbs forward as they fled through the streets of Brightvale.
Instinctively they kept to the shadows, ducking into narrow alleys, choosing paths most twisted and out of view. Heavy footsteps and alarm bells echoed from every direction, following them everywhere.
As they passed one of the wider streets, Token risked a glance toward the nearest city gate. It rose ahead of them just as it had when they first entered. Tall and proud, banners of House Hodor hanging high. Now iron grates sealed it closed, guards posted thick at its base.
One truth was obvious to Token. They weren’t getting out that way.
The path narrowed, buildings crowding carelessly close and forming a maze of bricks, as they slipped into the unmistakable streets of the Below District.
Shouts echoed from the street ahead. “THIS WAY!”
They skidded to a halt, pressing into the shadows between two leaning buildings.
Token pressed his back against the cold brick, hands braced on his knees as his lungs burned, threatening to tear if he tried to push them any longer.
Clyde slid down the wall until he hit the ground, breathing loud despite clearly trying not to. “Okay,” he wheezed. “So. Uh. We’re fucked. What now?”
Kenny dragged a hand through her hair, flakes of dried blood and white powder falling onto the stone. “Okay, okay, hear me out, what if we cause a distraction? Like a big one.” She gestured wildly as if to show the magnitude she spoke of. “Like fire. Or explosion! Something with a boom. That always worked for us.”
“And then what?” Craig cut in, breathlessness sharpening his voice even more. “All the gates are closed. Even if we reached one, we’ve got no way of getting past it.”
Token leaned back against the wall, trying to listen, mind racing.
“Maybe someone would be kind enough to hide us for a bit,” Butters offered carefully, hands clasped tight in front of his chest. “If we rested, even just a little, we could take a try with the gate.”
“That’s way too risky!” Tweek snapped, shaking his head violently. “We don’t even know anyone here! We can’t just ask strangers to hide us from the Watch!”
“We do know some people,” Butters insisted, stubbornly hopeful, and started counting off. “Laura, the innkeeper. Brother Scott from this one church. And that nice man who sold us spice.”
Craig raised an eyebrow. “You want to trust our lives to a drug dealer?”
Token closed his eyes, pressing his palms against them until lights danced behind his lids. Think, Token. Think.
“The one who lied to you and sold you flour,” Craig added dryly after a beat.
“Flour?” Kenny blinked.
“You didn’t notice?” Craig asked as if surprised. “Real spice doesn’t make a cloud like that. It’s more like sand or something.”
“Oh.” Clyde hummed. “That explains the taste.”
Craig’s glare snapped toward him.
“Hey!” Clyde raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t try any! It flew into my mouth on its own!”
“…Wow,” Kenny muttered. “I can’t believe it. We got scammed!”
“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Craig deadpanned.
“You’re all missing the point!” Tweek snapped, panic cracking through his voice. “We’re being hunted! Actively! There is no way out!”
It was then that the thought occurred to Token, sharp and sudden.
“…Actually,” his voice cut through the chaos and five heads snapped toward him at once, “We do know one way out.”
Click.
The sound was unmistakable. The same sharp click of a crossbow greeted them as they stepped, for the second time that day, into the old glassworks.
“Leave,” a woman warned, finger tightening on the trigger. “While you still can. Take one more step and I swear I’ll turn you into smoke.”
The voice reached them and all of them recognized it immediately.
“Easy,” Kenny murmured, hands lifting just a fraction. “Easy now.”
The woman’s eyes locked onto them, sharp and furious. “You.”
“Hi,” Butters said weakly, lifting one hand in a tiny, helpless wave.
“Fucking unbelievable.” She laughed, sharp and humorless. “What more could you possibly want from us, huh? Was it not enough that the elves are going to get caught before they even leave the county?” Her voice rose, cracking. “You want us gone too?!”
“We were lied to, too!” Tweek blurted helplessly.
The crossbow wavered.
“…What?”
“We didn’t know what was in that letter,” Token rushed to explain. “We swear. If we had… if we’d known—”
“You didn’t…?” Her expression flickered with hesitation, but then she snapped herself back, hardened again.
“No.” She shook her head sharply. “No. You don’t get to lie your way in again. You think I’m stupid?!”
“Please,” Butters begged, stepping forward without thinking, the crossbow jerked upward, but the bolt was not released.
“They almost killed us,” he continued, voice small but truthful. “We don’t… we don’t know what to do.”
Her gaze dropped to their bloodied bodies, for the first time truly taking in their state. Her grip tightened on the crossbow.
“…If you’re lying,” she said, voice shaking now, “Sophi will gut you all like fish.”
Token nodded once. “We know.”
Another beat she watched them. Then at once she lowered the crossbow.
“FUCK!” she swore, dragging a hand through her hair. “Get inside. Now.”
The crates were already dragged aside as they slipped past her, the trapdoor yawning open beneath the ruined glassworks floor. One by one they descended.
“We shouldn’t have tried to delay it,” she muttered feverishly to herself as the last of them climbed down. “We should've just hid. We should've hid.”
The hatch slammed shut above them with a dull, final thud.
Sophi’s gray hair was tied back this time, the cigarette gone.
She stood at the mouth of the tunnel with her hands folded loosely behind her back, posture relaxed even as she watched them approach. The uneven chamber beyond her was in motion. People hauled crates, shifting supplies, murmured orders passing between them with urgency. No one looked at the newcomers for long, Sophi’s posture ensuring them.
“I can’t believe my eyes,” she said at last, voice cool, carrying easily through the tunnel. “The prodigal children decided to crawl back to me.”
Her gaze moved over them, assessing. She lingered on bloodstains, bruises blooming beneath torn clothes and empty belts where weapons had once hung..
Tweek flinched when her eyes caught his, heart pounding so hard it felt like she could hear it. “Gah! Please don’t kill us.”
“You lied to me,” Sophi said calmly, but firmly. “You stole from me. You brought the Watch straight to my doorstep.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward the tunnel behind them. “And now you come here to what? Beg for mercy?”
Token stepped forward, throat dry. “We didn’t know. About the letter. If we had, we never would’ve even considered stealing it—”
“Why should I believe a word you say?” Sophi cut him off. “So far, you have proven yourselves to be thieves and liars.” Her gaze hardened. “Worst of all, with no honor to redeem you.”
“We lost everything,” Clyde said quietly, his words sounding like a plea.
Sophi tilted her head. She took a few steps around them, boots scraping softly against stone. “And yet you kept the elves?”
Her eyes narrowed just slightly.
“Why not sell them?” she asked. “The guards would’ve rewarded you. Might’ve even let the rest of you walk free.”
“We don’t make a habit of abandoning people,” Kenny answered simply.
Sophi studied them again, longer this time. Then she exhaled through her nose, something like reluctant amusement crossing her face.
“Curse the bard’s silver tongue,” she muttered. “Jimmy painted you as quite the heroes.” Her lips twitched faintly. “And while I know better than to trust half of what comes out of any entertainer’s mouth… I can’t deny you saved him.”
“You’re a strange bunch,” Sophi said, tapping her nails against a wooden plank, deep in thought. “Let’s make a deal.”
“Sure!” Kenny jumped on it instantly, hope flashing bright in her eyes. “What kind of deal?”
“The oldest one there is,” Sophi replied. “A favor for a favor.” She turned fully toward them now. “I won’t kill you and I’ll allow you to use my pass out of the city.”
All of them could feel the relief surge their body.
“In exchange,” she continued, “you will owe me a favor. To be named when I choose.”
“Of course,” Token agreed quickly. “It’s only fair.”
Sophi’s eyes slid to one of them. “You.”
Butters stiffened, every muscle locking at once. “Me, ma’am?”
“You are a paladin,” Sophi said. “A warrior of the Light, correct?”
He nodded, jaw tight, hands clenched hard at his sides.
“You will swear it,” she said. “Swear it like you mean it.” She stepped closer, looming over him, his silhouette small without armor . “The same way you swore your oath.”
Butters swallowed. His eyes flicked helplessly toward Kenny, but ahe could only give him a small, mournful nod.
So he faced Sophi again.
“I swear,” he said, voice trembling but clear. “By the Light I serve. By my oath and my soul.” He drew a breath. “When you call, I will answer.”
Butters gasped softly, one hand flying to clasp his holy symbol as warmth bled through him, faint but unmistakable, like a brand pressed into his heart.
If Token wasn’t so awe struck with the promise, biding from pure devotion, being made, he could laugh at the irony of it. A promise had damned them and now a promise would save them.
The world, apparently, had a cruel sense of humor.
Sophi held Butters’ gaze for a long moment. Then a sharp, satisfied smile curved her lips. “Good.”
“Philip,” she called. “Get them below.”
“The rest of you,” Sophi added, glancing back only briefly, “back to work.”
As they were ushered deeper into the tunnels, Butters lagged half a step behind, breathing shallowly, fingers pressed to where his heart rested.
The forest floor waited for them, thick with first fallen leaves and damp earth, impossibly soft and welcoming. The air bit at their heated skin, autumn already sinking its teeth in, despite the hour still being early afternoon.
They made it only a short distance from the tunnel’s mouth before giving up entirely. No one suggested a fire, or tents, or watches. None of them had the energy to pretend they could set a camp.
They let the forest claim them instead. Bodies pressed close together in a loose, inelegant knot of blankets and limbs, sharing what little warmth they had as they fell into stillness.
The sun dipped lower before anyone noticed. It was strange how fast the time moved now, after the long, brutal hours that had stretched endlessly before. When Craig was stirred from his shallow doze, the moon was already shining high above them.
The forest was quiet, except for the occasional creak of branches, something small scurrying through underbrush, wind stirring leaves overhead. Nothing that should be able to keep anyone awake.
And yet, there Craig felt it again. A sharp jerk at his side. Then another. A body twitching against his.
Craig exhaled through his nose and shifted just enough to look.
Tweek laid with his back turned, curled tightly beneath the blanket, shoulders drawn up to his ears. Even turned, Craig could tell his eyes were wide, darting around. His leg twitched again, catching Craig’s calf.
A quiet sound escaped him, a hitch of breath he couldn’t quite swallow down.
Tweek jolted like he’d been struck. He shot upright with a small, strangled yelp, clutching the blanket to his chest, eyes wild until they locked onto Craig’s hazel ones.
“I—I thought you were asleep,” the blonde whispered, voice shaking but careful not to wake the others.
“You’re twitching,” Craig admitted. There didn’t seem much point in lying.
Heat rushed to Tweek’s face, shame and guilt clear in his shining eyes, visible even in the surrounding darkness.
“I’m sorry!” he whispered frantically. “I didn’t mean to—I’ll move.”
He scrambled backward, shaking so hard that the blanket slipped, exposing his bloodied torso. He nearly knocked into Butters, sprawled on his side, breathing deep and heavy.
The created space was immediately filled with cold and Craig already missed the warmth Tweek’s closeness provided. He reached out and caught his wrist before the blonde could slip away fully.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he murmured. “You’ll freeze.”
Tweek stopped at the contact, staring down at the shadow of Craig’s hand around his arm like it might vanish if he blinked. His breath hitched.
“But I—I’m keeping you awake,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I always… I ruin everything, Craig, I can’t—”
“Shut up,” Craig cut his string of words off, tightening his grip just slightly. “Today was shit for everyone.”
Tweek swallowed hard, jaw trembling. He hesitated, then allowed Craig to pull him back onto his place on the forest litter. The woods breathed around them, slow and indifferent. Somewhere nearby, Kenny mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, still once more.
Tweek looked so fragile like this. Restless, utterly exhausted, pain written into every line of his body.
“I think you might be stressed,” Craig added after a moment, stupidly, as if that weren’t obvious. Then, before he could talk himself out of it: “Do you want to… talk about it?”
For a second, Tweek just stared, eyes glassy and searching, until he seemingly gave up and it all came rushing out.
“I just—gah! Don’t you get it, Craig?!” he hissed, barely keeping his voice down. “The King’s army is going to hunt every elf in Kupa! I can’t stay here! I can’t go anywhere!”
Craig watched his hands as he spoke, as they wrapped around his already messy locks, tugging at them mercilessly in a frantic, familiar motion.
“I’m too elf for Kupa! Too human for the Elven Kingdom! And I can’t go back to my tribe without hunting my prey first! Nnh!” His breathing grew more agitated by every second. “I’m gonna get killed. I know it!”
“There’s always the Embercoast,” Craig offered after a beat.
Tweek let out a humorless, disbelieving huff. “They hate barbarians! And even if they didn’t, it’s so far I’d never make it alive.”
“You’re not going to die,” Craig tried to assure, choosing his next words poorly, as usual. “I mean… did anything really change? You were already unwanted in Kupa. Barbarian. Half-elf. Weirdo.”
Tweek stared at him flatly, clearly unamused. “Is that supposed to be helpful?”
Craig shrugged faintly. “What I mean is… you were always unwelcome here. And you still made it. You traveled from fucking Wastelands here. You survived months in a country that straight up hates you. You’ll have to hide your ears better now, sure. But you can do it, Tweek.”
Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hands on the blonde’s wrists, gently guiding Tweek’s hands away from tangled hair.
Tweek froze the way deer did when caught in torchlight, even his breath seemed to stop mid-inhale. Craig could feel his pulse hammer against his fingertips, palpitating rapidly.
“You’re capable of more than you think.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Craig’s skin prickled under the close attention. Not for the first time, he wished his useless human eyes worked better in the dark, he wished he could see Tweek clearly instead of guessing at shadows and shapes.
“Why didn’t you leave?” Tweek asked, breaking the silence. “Why didn’t you just let them take me?”
Craig opened his mouth to answer, but all words dried on his tongue. Because he didn’t know how to explain that the thought had never even crossed his mind.
That there hadn’t been a moment where he weighed outcomes or considered standing aside. That in the chaos and fear and shouting, there had simply been Tweek and those who wanted to hurt them, and the idea of letting him go had felt so unreal he didn’t consider it as a possibility.
He didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t understand it himself. His instincts were selfish, self-preservant. Acting on reflex to protect felt wrong, unfitting to who he was.
And if he hadn’t been so utterly exhausted, he might’ve had energy to be scared by that.
“Well… you know I’m not really big on procedures.” Craig muttered at last, hoping his poor attempt at humour would be enough for him to not dig deeper.
A weak sound escaped Tweek that, thankfully, sounded close to a laugh. “I guess… you’re not.”
Tweek was much calmer now, but his body didn't stop shaking and jerking and Craig knew he would still struggle to fall asleep. So he did the only thing he could think of. He shifted closer in the cramped sprawl, ignoring Clyde’s half-asleep grunt as he rolled onto his back. Before Tweek could protest, Craig pulled him in, one arm around his shoulders, the other guiding his head until Tweek’s ear pressed against his chest.
Tweek went stiff. “Wh—what are you—?”
“Shut up,” Craig murmured, the heaviness of sleep returning to him. “Just listen.”
It was a distant memory, but one he could not forget. When Craig had been a kid and was woken up by a nightmare, his mom used to do this. Press his ear to her chest, make him listen to her steady heartbeat. And he remembered how he would slowly match her, until his racing heart's quiet and sleep took him once more.
Craig breathed slow now, setting the pace and praying that it would help and wouldn’t have to pathetically explain to Tweek his actions.
At first, Tweek’s breaths hitched, ragged against Craig’s shirt, eyes wide and limbs rigid beneath the points of contact. Then the blonde let out a small strangled sound at the back of his throat before he managed to draw breath and Craig felt him melt. His trembling eased. His weight sagged into Craig’s hold.
Minutes later, sleep finally claimed him. His body finally relaxed and when it did, a faint, involuntary smile tugged at Craig’s lips.
Around them, the forest kept watch. The others slept on, tangled together beneath the open sky.
Craig closed his eyes at last, arm still around Tweek and let himself drift too.