"Ana?!" Captain Pirta's voice boomed from below. "Are you alright?"

"Fuck do you goddamn think?" Ana growled to herself through clenched teeth. She released her wounded arm to pick her gun up, letting the blood flow for a moment. No pumping or spurting. A steady flow, but survivable, short term. It was one to two minutes to unconsciousness if you severed the veins and arteries, but she'd blocked with the outside of her arm. She told herself that she'd be fine.

She awkwardly checked to make sure that the single bullet hadn't somehow made it to the chamber, and that the safety was on, before shoving the gun in the waistband of her trousers. "I'm hurt, but I'm not dying!" she called back, silently adding, Not in the next five minutes anyway.

As Ana went to collect her hammer-axe and shield, briefly considering leaving them with her shattered healing potion as some sort of deranged punishment for not doing her any good in this fight, Messy's voice responded, "That's what you always think!" Messy sounded worried. Much less than Ana would have expected, which probably meant that she was extremely fucking worried and was holding back all she could.

"I'll be fine! I'm collecting the crystals now!" Ana called, rising to her feet. She tried to soften her voice, but it was really damn hard with how her arm burned and throbbed. Goddess, it hurt! The wound wasn't just the red of blood and muscle or the white of bone and tendon, either. It was black in spots, where the blood looked thick and lumpy, almost like it was cooking.

A lot of demons had acidic drool. She'd never seen that in a revenant, whether created from an animal or a sapient, but why the hell not? It was that kind of day.

Ana looked down at the remains of her health potion, which shimmered faintly in the diffuse light. It had spread like only a small amount of liquid on a floor could, making a far larger pool than seemed possible. Six ounces or so, and it had made a wet patch a foot and a half wide.

Fuck it, she thought. It's sterile, right? It has to be sterile. It's magic. Is it sterile?

The Wayfarer did not respond. Kneeling, Ana used her bloody hands to push the shards of glass out of the way, then scoop a small amount of the shimmering liquid into her cupped right palm.

I'll be with a Healer in a few minutes, she told herself, then splashed the liquid onto her wound. Then she did it again. The third time she got so little into her palm that she was just wasting time, but if she squinted, the black bubbling might have stopped. The pain… well, it was less. Going from a thirteen to an eleven was something, at least.

Making good on her words to Messy and with her weapon and shield tucked under her bad arm, Ana went up to the wide, stubby stalagmite that held her — their — reward for clearing this Delve and the key to their freedom.

She took a good look at it. It was big. Much, much bigger than the one in her first Delve. Where she remembered that one as being maybe half a foot wide at the base, maybe a little bigger, this monster was at least five, maybe six feet. It was hard to tell — the thing bristled with Crystals, translucent and shining with a diffuse inner light, almost like a condensed version of the very air inside this place. The crystal at the peak was huge, the biggest she'd ever seen. Beneath that sat a crown of seven impressive Crystals that Ana recognized from the first Delve as being of Supreme grade, then nineteen that must be Greaters, and so on.

Ana had fought all her life to stay fairly honest and law abiding. She hadn't resorted to mugging anyone when she lived on the street; though, she had rifled a few pockets after defending herself. She'd never pickpocketed or burgled; the worst she'd done was some shoplifting when she'd been truly desperate. But now, standing there before what must be in excess of a hundred thousand Experience Points' worth of Growth Crystals, she was tempted. She was so very sorely tempted to just absorb them all. The pain made math a chore, but she'd hit, what? Level 20 at least. Higher? Who could stop her? And she was planning to bail on this place anyway, once they were all safe and the Splinter was stable again. First opportunity, she'd take it.

She didn't even need to take them all. She could skim some. She could skim a lot. She could tell the others that the Delve was a tier lower than it was, and keep the difference for herself. Why not? And why did she have this damn knot in her stomach when she thought about it?

"Ascendant, I think!" she called out unprompted. "Factor six? Is that right? There's seven Supremes!"

The knot released, and she could breathe normally again — as normally as the pain would allow. The temptation was gone. Now everyone would know if she screwed them, and so she wouldn't. With her right hand still staunching the blood that would otherwise pour from her wound, she started touching the Shards at the base with her cold, fading left hand.

"Forget about the Crystals!" Messy shouted. "If you feel at all faint, just grab the peak and close this hell so we can help you!"

"I'm fine, Mess," Ana lied. God, the wound burned! "I've stopped the bleeding. It's okay!"

Moving her fingers made the bleeding worse, but luckily she didn't need to grab the Crystals. Contact was enough. All it took was a tiny effort of will, and the Shards went into her own storage, two every second.

"Excellent, Ana!" Pirta called up as Ana slowly circled the mound. "Can you keep talking to us, please? You sounded a little off at the end. Some of us are worried."

She sped up, collecting faster and moving on to the Least Crystals. She kept moving in a circle — she could have just stood and collected everything from top to bottom, but moving felt like a good idea right then. If she stood still she might relax too much, the adrenaline that was still keeping her going might stop trickling into her bloodstream, and if she had a crash right now she might pass out, Vitality and Endurance be damned.

She did as they asked, though. They kept asking how she was, and she kept answering that she was fine, keeping her voice as steady as she could to not worry them too much. She did such a good job of it that in her opinion she should have gotten another Level in Acting. It was bullshit that she didn't, really. The Almighty System probably didn't think that it was important enough or something.

Finally she'd collected everything except the peak Crystal. She glanced at her Storage. Goddamn, that was a lot of Crystals. Maybe she should have left the Shards. But her mind was made up: she was not going to disappoint everyone. She had people here that actually liked her, and even when she left, she wanted to know that they remembered her fondly — not as some backstabbing thief. If she hadn't had her Party and a few others, though…

No point in dwelling on that. Her hand was entirely numb now, and she dearly wished that might have been true for the rest of her arm, which somehow managed to feel like she was dipping it in a vat of acid despite her cutting the circulation off for… she didn't even know. Her thoughts were getting a little muddled.

"Grabbing the peak!" she called as loudly as she could in response to a question she hadn't quite understood. "Civvies had a fight before, gonna need to check on 'em! And save my arm? Would be good."

The shouting from wherever it was got louder and more upset. She flopped her useless left hand onto the giant Crystal at the peak and willed it into her storage.

Ana vaguely remembered Deni saying that she felt all the mana rushing out of the first Delve as it closed. This time, Ana understood what she'd meant. She felt it, a series of regular pulses that passed through her from the mound, heading in every direction. At the same time, the air swirled wildly, no pattern or real direction — just a million little winds going every which way. The pulses came faster, then faster still, the time between each quickly approaching zero as the walls and floor and ceiling dimmed and went out of focus and then—

Ana was back in the forest. She hung in the air. Then she dropped ten feet — or twelve, maybe? Far enough that she had time to think, Could have been a hundred, before she crumpled against the mossy ground.

For once after getting grievously wounded, Ana didn't wake up to Messy singing and stroking her hair. That was a disappointment. But it turned out to be because Messy was asleep, hugging Ana tight to her chest with one arm around her back and the other hand in Ana's hair, her right leg locked over Ana's hip to pull her even closer. That made it okay.

The light of a fire lit the inside of the tent dimly, so it was night, and Ana was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep. She was just so damned comfortable. Also, a little lightheaded. She didn't feel confused or anything — she had a mostly clear picture of what had happened up until she hit the ground. Only the few minutes after her fight with the revenant ended were a little blurry.

She'd woken to a wonderful absence of pain which told her that she'd been healed. She'd probably had a healing potion poured down her throat, too — the Craft of Life was amazing for pain relief and accelerated healing, but for whatever reason it wasn't so great at restoring lost blood. It would have been great to have her potion directly after the fight — she'd have to talk to Touanne about putting them in something less fragile than glass.

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Her left forearm was wrapped in multiple layers of bandages, with a bulge where that magic zombie had taken a goddamn chunk out of her. Probably a poultice or something to counteract the acid or necrotic venom or whatever the revenant had drooled into her wound. When Ana flexed her left hand, her middle, ring, and pinky fingers barely moved. Accelerated healing, not instant, she reminded herself, then followed that with an emphatic, Never again.

She hadn't known that getting eaten alive was something she specifically feared, but never again. She'd told herself after the fight ended that she was going to learn to channel, so that she'd never be without Earth-aligned mana, and she only felt that more strongly when she thought about the revenant tearing the flesh from her living arm.

Despite that — despite everything — Ana felt good. The slightly floaty feeling helped, but as far as she could tell, their situation was better than before entering the Delve. They'd rescued the expedition. She couldn't hear any crying or angry voices, so they probably hadn't lost too many people when the civilians were attacked, or after she closed the Delve. Her Party was all alive; Messy was with her, and the others were awake — they were probably on watch. With a small smile, she wondered if Messy had refused to leave her to join them, or if they hadn't even asked.

She considered joining them, or at least stepping outside to show that she was okay and to ask them how things were. But even the most careful movement was met with resistance from Messy, who grumbled unhappily in her sleep and drew her in closer. She could get free easily, but that might mean waking the woman who held her so tightly and made her feel so damn precious.

She might as well stay until morning.

Ana woke again when Messy did.

"You scared me so bad, Angel," Messy said after inhaling deeply, her nose in Ana's hair. "When I saw you after the Delve closed, I almost threw up."

"Sorry, babe," Ana murmured into the skin of Messy's chest, unwilling to pull away from her warmth even to look at her.

"You had a broken bone in your hand, a crack in your breast bone, all kinds of scrapes and bruises… your neck was a torn mess, and your arm—" Messy shuddered against her. "You call that 'alright?' Touanne said that your organs were failing!"

Failing organs? Ana thought. Fucking Death magic! To Messy she said, "If I'd told you, you would have just been scared for longer."

"Then let me be scared! Just don't lie to me, Ana. Please! I don't want to lose you at all, but for you to let me think that you were alright, and then to lose you after that, I—"

"Okay," Ana said, interrupting her. "Okay. You're right. I won't lie to you again."

"Thank you," Messy said.

They lay silently until Messy said, "Ana, can you tell me about the— I don't even know what it is. You had something tucked in your trousers."

Before she could stop herself, Ana felt herself stiffen.

"Is it that bad?" Messy asked softly.

"No," Ana said, resigning herself. She'd promised not to lie. And was it really that big a deal? "Did anyone else see it?"

"I don't think so. Touanne might have, but I doubt she'd care. I only got a good look at it when I undressed you to get you cleaned up."

Touanne. That was alright. Even if she'd seen something, that woman kept secrets religiously. "Fine," Ana said. "It's a weapon. From my world." She laughed softly at herself. From my world! It sounded so unnecessarily dramatic.

"Why haven't you used it? Why hide it?"

"Because… You know what? I don't really know. Why I've kept it hidden from you, I mean. I hid it from everybody else because I didn't want anyone to ask questions, and because I didn't want anyone to take it from me. It's the only reason I even made it to the outpost, you know? I'd probably be one of the changelings if not for it. It makes me feel safe. But so do you, and you already know everything important about me."

"That's why you didn't use it? To keep it hidden?"

"Yeah. And because I'm almost entirely out of ammunition. You can think of it as…" Ana thought about it, searching for a half-way decent explanation. "A small alchemical crossbow, I guess? Instead of shooting bolts with a string it fires tiny pieces of metal using an alchemical power. And I only have one shot left."

"You don't want to waste it," Messy guessed.

"Something like that. Once it's gone, it's gone, you know? I'll never have any more. Don't know how to make the powder or anything."

"Okay," Messy said. She seemed satisfied. "What do you call it?"

"A gun. Or a semi-automatic pistol, to be more specific."

"Ghann," Messy said softly, tasting the word. "Ghann. Thank you for telling me, Angel. I won't tell anyone else."

"I know."

From the moment Ana woke, the camp had been coming alive around them. They should get up, and they both knew it.

"Are you going to let me up?" Ana asked.

Messy only held on tighter. "No. You lied to me, and you terrified me. You're sentenced to unending affection."

"Alright." Ana twisted her head and shifted a little so her ear was right above Messy's heart, letting its steady beat guide her into a mindless relaxation. "That's fair."

They were still there when Kaira tore the tent flap open some fifteen minutes later. Her threats to have Sendra douse them with cold water had a lot to do with them choosing to get up at that point. When they did, Ana left the gun in the tent but tucked the magazine in her boot. That would have to do for safety.

Like most mornings since they'd left the outpost, Petra was one of several people working to feed what was now nearly five hundred people. She was making porridge and tea, because of course she was. Together with Kaira, Tor, and Omda's presence, it gave the whole morning an almost surreal sense of normalcy.

Kaira certainly agreed with that. "Gods beyond, I thought I'd never get to eat this again!" the Evoker crooned between spoonfuls. "We ran out of cheese and fruit weeks ago, the meat and hard tack not long after. Been living off nothing but a few beans and some sweetroot for… how long?"

"Ten days," Omda said.

"Right! Wayfarer bless you and your limited repertoire, Petra!"

Jisha hadn't quite gotten used to the stuff, but she liked to stay close to Ana, the Ters sisters, and Braggie, so there she was, eating slowly and making all kinds of faces. Not disgusted ones. Confused, more than anything. Not that she spoke much. She'd said exactly one word all breakfast: "Salut," when she saw Ana.

Kaira kept her curiosity at bay for all of several minutes, but in the end she couldn't let Jisha's silence stand. "So, new girl," she said, both to Jisha and to anyone who was listening. "What's your story?"

Jisha, of course, didn't react until she caught Kaira staring at her expectantly. As far as Ana could tell, the French girl hadn't picked up a word of Inter-guild. When she noticed Kaira's friendly — if toothy — grin, she just looked at Ana and mouthed a silent, "Quoi?"

"She only speaks Wanteul," Braggie told Kaira, speaking up before Ana could. "Well, that and some languages I've never heard before."

Kaira's smile grew even wider and toothier. "Really?!" she said, then let out a long, cheerful string of words which meant nothing to Ana but had Braggie blushing, Dil gaping, and Sendra covering her mouth. Jisha stared at her, stone faced. Then her lips slowly pressed tightly together, the corners of her mouth pulling out until her cheeks twitched and a poorly suppressed laugh came out her nose as a coarse snort which broke her resistance, and she fell into a fit of giggles. She replied, her voice unsteady with laughter, and whatever she said just made Braggie redder and the Ters sisters more shocked.

Sadie, who'd been watching the scene from where she sat next to Braggie, looked up at her much taller friend, grinned, and said, "Looks like I need to learn some Wanteul!"

Kaira loved it.

"This woman," Jisha said in French once she and Kaira were done laughing, "God, she is foul!"

"Is she?" Ana said. That was news to her. Terminally extroverted and badly in need of a filter, yes, but Kaira had never struck her as all that… explicit.

"Unbelievably! I wonder if half the words she knows are curses and crude slang!"

"Do you want me to ask her to tone it down?"

"God, no! I needed that!" Jisha turned back to Kaira and let off another string of words that had Kaira laughing even harder than before and Braggie looking like she was about to run.

It was as Ana watched the two seemingly hit it off that the Wayfarer chose to speak up. Good morning, Ana, she whispered.

Ana immediately tuned the two women out. Good morning, she answered. Where were you?

You looked so comfortable and content, first with your lover, then with your friends. I didn't want to interrupt.

Thanks, I guess. So, this is just a social call?

Yes. The word had the feeling of laughter behind it. You have my gratitude and my congratulations, for saving your friends and for sticking it to that cheating, misbegotten traitor. I couldn't have chosen better.

For all that the Wayfarer had helped, and for all that she sometimes amused Ana, the contrarian and near-atheist inside her still wanted to rebel against the goddess. And she wished that she could hate the warm, contented feeling those simple words gave her. It wasn't quite the same, but similar to how Mr. Stamper had made her feel, when he thanked her for a job well done.

Thanks, she said simply. I try not to disappoint.

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