Crouching low to the ground, I pant heavily as pain wracks my jaw. My throat feels drier than the desert, sore after hours of screaming.

  The taste of copper fills my mouth, and I feel fluid slowly drip from my lips. A small pool of black liquid gathers below me. My mind feels like its under water, too hazy and dizzy to wasde through other than the visceral pain.

  The tentacles flop loosely on the ground, unmoving despite having no restraints. Exhaustion radiates from them.

  Blinking somewhat hazily, I lift my eyes just enough to see a bloody flyer clutched in a hunter’s hand.

  “Ugh, her blood is black,” one of the hunters says. “...Don’t tell me she’s one of them?”

  “Figures,” another voice chimes in. “This mission just had to have one of them here, huh?”

  Slowly breathing in and out, I blearily glance toward the front. Mark is standing over me with his arms crossed.

  After a moment, he bends down and reaches a hand toward me.

  “Here,” Mark says, handing me a bottle of pills and a small container of cream. “Take this before you get back to your duty. It’ll help while your regenerative healing kicks in.”

  Staring at the two containers with narrowed eyes, I sigh before taking them.

  As I turn them over in my hands, Mark rises. From my peripheral vision, I watch as he marches over to the other two hunters.

  “Do you think he’ll still accept this one?” one of the hunters mutters—not low enough for me to not hear. “I mean, she isn’t ideal, but… she’s technically still an Essevian…”

  “No, I don’t think it’ll work,” the other one replies. “Pretty sure he wants one that wasn’t made in a lab.”

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  “Well, what do we do? He ain’t going to be happy about that.”

  “He’ll just have to deal with it,” Mark answers. “It’s not our responsibility. He should be happy we gave him the corpse tree’s fruit at all.”

  As several tentacles slowly curl around the containers in my hands, I glance toward where Mark and the two hunters are gathered.

  Huh. What did they mean by that? What are they even talking about?

  Another wrack of pain vibrates from my lower jaw, making me wince. I quickly look away and clamp my mouth shut to keep a moan of pain from escaping.

  ...Let’s deal with one thing at a time, first...

  Dragging my tired body through the camp, I trudge toward where Mary and Hazel are camping for the night. The Essevian girl is resting her head on the woman's lap.

  Lingering looks bore down on me from all directions as I make my way to them. The tentacles barely notice, content to let me drag them along.

  As I approach, Mary glances up with a small smile on her face.

  I give her a small smile back and wave as I walk to her side. The moment Mary sees my face, something briefly flashes across hers—too fast for me to make out.

  The woman suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me closer.

  "What the hells are they thinking?" Mary says, grabbing both sides of my face and pulling me even closer.

  Quickly pulling my head free, I cover my mouth.

  "It's not that bad," I mumble, wincing at the way my voice come out.

  “Not as bad?” Mary says, her voice eerily calm. “Not bad?”

  She narrows her eyes and presses her lips together. “Beatrice, he removed—”

  “Yeah, but he gave me some antiseptic and a healing balm afterward,” I say, raising an eyebrow as I tilt my head to the side. “I can even speak normally after all that. He’s not that bad.”

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Mary sharply inhales.

  “Damn it,” she mutters under her breath, seemingly unaware that I can still hear her. “Am I failing her like I did with him?”

  I frown at Mary’s words and begin to open my mouth—but before I can get a word out, her expression suddenly smooths over as she turns back to me with a somewhat resigned look.

  "Fine," The woman sighs, slumping her shoulders. "Do what you want."

  Narrowing my eyes, I slowly scan the woman up and down.

  …Is it one of those days again?

  Observing the woman for a moment, I let out a small sigh, deciding to let the matter go.

  “It will heal,” I mumble, wincing at the pain radiating from moving my mouth.

  Gingerly opening my mouth, I slightly pull down my lip.

  “Look,” I manage. My teeth are already starting to grow back. “Not as fast as I’d like, but healing.”

  "Right," Mary says. "Of course."

  A long silence stretches between us after her statement.