"Don't be afraid," said the familiar voice. "I am here."
She knew the person holding her, pulling her from the suffocating grip of the water. She would recognize that voice anywhere. His body was wrapped in rough bandages, his face hidden except for his eyes, but his voice was impossible to disguise.
Raven.
He held Gazelle's small frame easily against his chest with one arm. When she slipped slightly in his grasp, he boosted her higher, securing her against him. The darkness was total; they could feel each other's breath on their skin, startlingly close, yet there was a strange relief in not being able to see one another.
Gazelle was freezing, terrified, and heartbroken. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her on the edge of a panic attack, but the arms holding her were solid as stone. Because of him, she remembered the harsh truth: she had no one else.
And she began to sob.
Raven's muscles tensed as she clung to his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He shifted his grip, holding her now with both arms as her hot tears soaked into the bandages at his neck. Her chest pressed against his collarbone, and he frowned as he felt the frantic, rabbit-like beating of her heart.
If he could, he would have reached inside and ripped the grief right out of her.
Gazelle was just like him, he realized. She was alone. Underneath that facade of strength lay a resentful, broken child. He wanted to protect her. For a man like him, Gazelle was a dangerous goal, but perhaps guarding a soul so deeply hurt would give him the peace he had been searching for.
He held her tighter, letting her cry in silence.
Then, he frowned. Small, flickering lights were dancing in the air around them.
"What are these?"
"Fireflies," Gazelle whispered, her voice thick with tears.
Raven shifted his gaze to her, watching her trembling lips for a second. Gazelle pulled back slightly, raising a single eyebrow as she looked into his eyes.
"So, you're a prizefighter, huh?" She let out a weak, watery laugh, turning her attention back to the glowing insects. "I should have guessed."
She pressed her face back against his shoulder and closed her eyes as he waded through the water, guided by the soft glow of the fireflies.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Raven didn't answer. He just kept walking.
Voices rose from the darkness, people trapped in the circus, surrounded by the flood. Raven and Gazelle tried to ignore them, but then the shouts changed.
"Follow the light!" someone screamed.
The night threatened to swallow everything, but thousands of fireflies pierced the gloom, and they weren't just flying aimlessly; they were staying with Gazelle. Desperate people began to wade after them, following the girl and the man who carried her.
As Raven finally stepped onto the forest path, the moon and stars broke through the clouds, lighting their way. A few fireflies remained with them, while the rest turned back, continuing to light the path for the survivors in the city. For the first time, the people of the city believed that darkness could be pierced.
As Gazelle drifted to sleep in his arms, Raven looked back. In the distance, the Ferris wheel was burning, casting an eerie glow over the flooded ruins. Fire and water. Chaos and silence. He searched for a logical answer to the destruction, but found none.
The fireflies swirled around the two of them, their light steady and calm. Raven smiled, a faint, crooked thing, as he patted Gazelle's back.
"How can one person shine a glimmer of hope in such deadly chaos?" he whispered to the wind.
He didn't have an answer. So, he turned and carried her home.
When they reached the hut, lightning flashed, and the heavens opened up again.
Despite the storm raging outside, inside felt quiet. Raven laid Gazelle on the bed. She was soaked to the bone. Working quickly and with clinical detachment, he stripped off her wet clothes and dressed her in one of his oversized shirts, careful not to look at her body. He dried her hair with a clean towel, pulled the duvet over her shoulders, and turned to leave.
He walked to the living room couch, intending to sleep there, but as lightning struck again, illuminating the room, he hesitated.
He sat on the edge of the couch and began to untie the soaked bandages from his body. As they fell away, his mind wandered to Gazelle. Her hair had been shorter when they first met. It had grown long in the time she'd spent in these woods.
When the last bandage dropped to the floor, he looked around. There were no spare clothes. The hut was freezing. With only his boxers on, sleeping on the drafty couch was a guarantee of sickness, or worse.
He gritted his teeth, angry at the situation, but he had no choice.
He stood up and walked back to the bedroom.
In the broken mirror by the door, he caught his reflection. His hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a lifetime.
He entered the room on silent feet. Gazelle was sprawled in the center of the wide bed. Gently, he moved her to one side, then slid under the covers.
He turned his back to her immediately, putting as much distance between them as the mattress allowed, careful not to brush against her.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He could hear the soft rhythm of her breathing behind him. He could feel the warmth radiating from her. His body was rigid; he was sure he wouldn't be able to relax, but minutes later, soothed by her breathing and the warmth of her presence, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The Dream
Gazelle dreamed.
She saw a little girl with a cheerful face, dancing with a man made of flowers.
She saw a woman, beautiful blossoms blooming on her skin until they covered her completely, and she vanished beneath them.
She saw a dead woman buried in the earth, but her body did not rot; it mixed with the soil, giving birth to a wild, vibrant nature on her grave.
When Gazelle finally awoke, gasping and drenched in sweat, the dream was so vivid she didn't even notice the man sleeping silently beside her.