The Daughter of Death- *RAYOR*

Chapter 13: Love In Death

The sky was the colour of diluted paint, the palest of blues, when I woke up. I knew that it was early. I slumped down, groaning. A long ride with a sore rear lay ahead of me. A week had passed, and I was regretting not bringing some kind of cream with me.

I looked over at Arielle. She was snoring by the time I woke up. For someone who was so dainty and fairy-like in waking, she seemed much nicer in her sleep. Her pinched expression- one that I betted that she thought looked mature, but actually looked like she had a bad smell wafting under her nose- softened.

I watched her for a moment. She snored but was incredibly still. Her eyebrows were the sort that models had, perfectly arched. Her eyelashes were thick and curling. Her nose was slightly upturned, a little like Willow's.

I got up and checked out the food. Stale bread and powdered eggs- just add water, it said on the tub. I gagged, chucked it, and left the tent.

"What is there?" asked Willow, quietly. In the pale dawn light, he seemed ethereal.

"Arielle's good at sleeping." I gestured to the larger tent.

"I know," said Willow. "Beauty sleep, am I right?" He raised his eyebrows when I didn't laugh. "We had eggs-"

I made a face.

Willow raised an eyebrow. "You threw them away."

"They look disgusting." I sat down on a rock, wincing. "Really disgusting, Willow. And we don't have a skillet. We can hunt, it's not like Arielle will go anywhere."

He nodded in acknowledgement of this argument. "I'll get my crossbow."

"How many arrows do you have left?"

"Three."

I grimaced.

"What? Didn't you say that you would take care of it?" he looked alarmed.

"Yeah, but they won't be as good. Have you checked the snares?"

"I haven't even set them, yet," he said. "It was too dark."

"Fine," I said, excusing him only because I threw away the powdered egg. We crept into the forest. It was only just waking, very quiet, as if holding its breath.

"What happens if we bump into a bear?" asked Willow.

"I'll try to kill it."

"You could have killed it before," said Willow, slightly dreamily, "with just a stare."

I gave him a hard look. "I could have."

Willow's eyes lowered. "That wasn't my fault, Blake."

"Nor am I saying it is. We should stop talking," I said, more softly. "We're scaring off the game."

We stood silently for a moment, my hand on the hilt of a throwing knife, Willow with his fingers on the trigger of his crossbow.

A blue tit fluttered into view.

I threw the knife. Willow fired. My knife soared over the bird, lodging into the trunk; Willow's arrow went far to the left, vanishing out of sight. The tit squawked and flew away.

"It was small," consoled Willow. "Not much meat."

I gave him a look that made it clear that I didn't care how much meat it had, as long as it had some. I clambered up the tree, finding hand- and footholds with ease. A memory of climbing trees with a redheaded girl flashed before my eyes, and I slipped, clutching the dagger, head spinning.

"Blake?" Willow's nervous voice spoke from below. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm," I said, trying for a carefree tone, "that depends. Do you want to save me?"

He snorted, but I had already wrenched out the knife and scrambled down. Willow reached out and picked a leaf from my hair. "You looked like a monkey," he breathed, "clambering around like that."

The atmosphere subtly changed. His face was almost indistinguishable because of a ray of sunlight that glanced off of his hair, but he shifted to the side and came into view.

"Let's keep hunting," I said, and a string seemed to snap, a moment lost. At the end of three hours, we'd caught two squirrels.

"Better than normal," said Willow.

"That's because I was here," I said.

"Yeah," he said, quieter. "I suppose it was."

I skinned the squirrel as Willow and Arielle, who'd finally woken up, talked. "Aster should drop by," I said.

"Aster?" Arielle brightened. For some reason, I didn't very much like it.

"Maybe," I said. "He's busy. In the Underworld-"

A tap on my shoulder almost made me faint. I turned around and put my hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

"You could have killed me!"

"You have a high fear tolerance," said Aster. "I knew you wouldn't mind."

I gave him a thoroughly angry look, which only seemed to bolster his sense of entitlement, and turned to the squirrel. "Well. How's Nicco?"

"That'll make his day," said Willow. "You asking about him."

"How is he?" I asked impatiently.

"He's fine. Still arguing with Levy. The usual."

"What about... Father?"

"He's worried, Bee."

The knife slipped and I cut my finger. Willow stood up with a gasp and took out a flask of water, taking my finger and running it under it.

"You might get infected," he said.

"Yeah, well, phooey," I said. "Aster?"

"He wanted me to bring you back, no matter if you didn't finish with the angel girl."

"Would have been great if he told me that maybe two weeks ago!" I huffed. "Well, you'll have to stall."

"I have stalled!" Aster looked nervous. "He doesn't trust me anymore! At first, he thought it was funny, but now he looks at me as if I killed you!"

"Well, what can we do?!"

"You can tell him," said Aster, crossing his arms. "And also tell him not to kill Aurielle here-"

"Arielle," she corrected.

"Arielle," he repeated. "Because smiley guy here may kill you."

Willow looked offended at Aster's description of him. "She's my sister, but sure, that isn't important!"

"Mmm, of course," said Aster. "Blake, you need to do something. Death might kill me!"

"You can't be killed," I reminded him.

"I'll probably be demoted to a cleaner in Hell, scrubbing blood and guts off the walls..." Aster shuddered.

"Cages," I corrected. "Aster, I can't do anything right now. I would if I could."

Aster looked mutinous. "What do I do, then?"

I put down the squirrel. "I don't know. Give him a false lead. Something. I'll back you up when I become reaper again."

"I hope you know what you're doing," said Aster. "I really, really hope you know what you're doing."

I nodded. "Thank you, Aster." I put down the squirrel and Willow started to roast it. I started skinning the next one.

"He loves you, Blake."

"Not possible," I said. "There's no love in death."