Rick had to look away as a new light emerged into their tiny dark world, bright like the sun on a winter morning. He turned away facing Abigail, positioning himself to block her from the light. The light tunneling in and overshadowing the other small light in their room like waves overtaking waves.

Rick heard the steps of someone walking down, the steps echoing down like mice in the walls, non-stop and infuriating, smattering away endlessly. The light growing brighter and brighter as the steps grew louder and louder, growing louder until they reached their respective crescendo, like drums in a dance as it reached its climax. Rick glanced at the light, eyes narrow as he tried to puzzle out what little he could see, the bright ball of light doing little to help. But before he could see anything, he heard.

“Do-don’t do any-“

Noah’s voice sputtered out, stopped by a sudden coughing fit. His voice rather weak, his cough rather loud, a little too loud. The sudden noise startling Abigail something fierce, pressing her hands against her ears as she fell down on her knees. Protecting herself like a man pretending the earthquake wasn’t real.

Rick himself shrugged back at the sudden noise, but stayed upright, albeit barely, pain like a blooming fungus, quickly spreading from his stomach. He blinked quickly to remove the bright spot, trying to quickly get used to the bright light. Managing to at least see Noah’s shoes, normally black and lustrous, now smeared with dirt and grime.

The coughing fit subsided somewhat, stilling to rough and uneven breathing. Rick blinked, eyes finally realizing their purpose. Giving Rick the sight of Noah standing with an awfully bright lantern in one hand, hunched over, holding a knife in his other. The knife alarmed Rick something fierce, feeling his pain subside immediately as his body prepared to fight, a fight sure to lose.

He glanced back, Abigail already being in the most secure place of their tiny room. A secure place not even remotely secure. Turning back to Noah, he let his eyes fall low, body fall even lower, readying himself for a quick but fierce fight, like a wolf preparing to jump. Chains rattling like drums at night.

Noah, startled by the noise, shot his head up to look for the source, seeing Rick, his eyes growing wide in alarm. He tried straightening his back, pushing his hands out as if in a peaceful gesture. All but peaceful when one considered the knife.

“Is-is not like that! I-Im sorry! I-I-”

He stuttered, voice like that of a child after doing something naughty. Words tangling on one another, tying one another, stumbling on one another. His eyes darting from his knife up to Rick, down to Abigail, all around the tiny room then looping around. Everywhere except for Rick’s eyes.

Still, Rick kept his posture low, ready for anything. Noah keeping his posture low too albeit for a different reason. Eventually, his sputtering came to a stop as he stared at Rick’s stomach. His mouth hanging open as if frozen to the bone, eyes large like the ripest fruit. Then he suddenly reached forward with both of his hands, too far away to reach Rick.

“Is the wound oka-“

He stammered out, but the sudden movement, the jolt of his arm, was too fast for even himself. Stumbling on a dark rock on the floor, the hand holding the knife shooting forward even faster, reflexively letting go as hands sought solidity. The same happened to the lantern. The lantern falling to Noah’s right, Rick’s left with a smatter of metal, clanking loudly. The knife shooting straight for Rick, Rick’s body taking immediate evasive actions, ducking down while shutting his eyes, arms taut against the chains as they tried to protect his head.

The clanking and smattering of the metal lantern unbearably loud, louder than even the coughing that Noah had done earlier. Rick with his eyes shut, waited for the pain, the pain of a knife. The pain not coming. Daring to open his eyes while the metal lantern danced on the stone floor, Rick saw Noah on his knees, looking up at Rick, Rick looking down on him. In between the two, a knife glimmered in the still bright light of the still lightly rolling lantern.

Rick immediately dove for it, reaching down, stopped by a forceful tug. He glanced back; seeing the chain holding his arms back. He looked down again, seeing Noah scrambling on all fours as he himself dove for the knife. Rick brought his leg forward, a swift but unbalanced kick. Resistance met his foot, unbalancing him even further, falling to the side, painfully held afloat by chains, awkwardly straining against them to keep a fragile balance.

Noah wasn’t so lucky, having gotten a kick to the face. Not being ready for it, his head whiplashed to the side, his body following, falling on top of the bright lantern. Hard edges digging into his back. He cried out in alarm and pain, a loud shriek garbled out of his mouth, tongue bitten, filling his mouth with globby blood.

Fighting against the chains that held an unbalanced hold on him, he scanned the ground for the knife. Not finding it, Rick whipped his head around in rising panic. Noah’s shriek softening to a silent groan, his eyes flailing around in a dance as they tried to stop within his spinning head. Rick growing desperate, head whipping around even faster, like a berserker in a war, like a woodpecker on a tree.

His head shooting backwards as something tugged at his leg. Seeing Abigail, eyes like a cat after hearing a branch suddenly snapping. One hand holding his leg, the other reaching out with a knife in it. Rick looked shocked at the sight, but didn’t dwell on it, taking the knife quickly as he turned back towards Noah. Noah had rolled around back up on his knees, one hand on his mouth while the other balanced him upwards against the far side of the room’s wall. Rick took two small steps backward, keeping Abigail behind him. The steps necessary for the chains to hang looser behind him, giving him at least some small semblance of mobility.

It took some time before Noah recovered enough to recognize what had happened. Time spent quietly. Loud breathing from one, noiseless from the other. One staring the other down, the other trying to see. One bent ready to fight, the other bent ready for flight. A time spent quietly, like ripples in calm water after a stone being dropped in it.

The lantern still illuminating everything, having calmed in its rolling dance, bathing the scene in bright light. Their room, the small room, being silent. Calm. Their room being nothing. The silent breathing broken by Noah as his eyes finally regained clarity, mouth worming out words louder and more confidently than before. Spittle of blood trickling out, painting the floor below.

“Fuck”

A simple word containing many nuances. This particular nuance having one of anger and frustration. Noah stared at Rick, his former nervousness broken by anger and the echo of fear. A fear that grew but was overshadowed by anger.

“You fucking ass! Why the fuck did you kick me? I’m here to get you food, you dumbasses! You fu-“

He stated quite eloquently. Stopping with the last words as he seemed to realise what he was saying. The anger simmering away like oil on water, like blood through an open wound. His eyes growing wide, wider than the deer seeing a monster, alarmed and maybe spooked. He continued speaking.

“Nononono I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry! The knife was for cutting up food! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that! I really don’t wanna kill you.”

He spoke clearly. Rick narrowing his eyes as he spoke, feeling them soften in surprise, for in Noah’s voice, Rick heard no deceit. He felt no hatred; he felt no lies. Rick kept his posture low though and his pose ready, but subconsciously loosened the grip around his knife, his face softening a little. Noah rose a little at Rick’s tiny gesture, face seeming to grow even paler, even with the red lump growing on his cheek. He rose his hands in a peaceful gesture and stated quickly.

“I-I’ll get you the food! Wait a second!”

Before he could finish, he had already turned around in a flurry of tangled legs, dashing back towards the stairs and into the dark upstairs. But no sound of a door opening reached Rick’s ears, so he assumed the food to be somewhere on the stairs. Still, he once again tightened the grip around the knife.

A few seconds later, Noah emerged back into the light, holding a big bowl of soup and a loaf of bread in the other. He stopped as he saw Rick, holding the bread as if holding a shield. The soup shaking slightly in his other hand, splashing droplets onto his already damp arm.

He stayed like that for a moment, his body seemingly tighter than a rope on a ship. His whole body shaking slightly, like a sail in a raging wind. The moment left as he shook himself, awakening from his woken dream, seeming to realise he was staring. Quickly bending down as he put the bread and soup on the floor. Then he pushed them, rather harshly. The soup spilling everywhere, the bread sliding into a roll that bounced off of Rick’s foot. Rick glanced at it and lightly stepped on in, staring at Noah with one brow raise. The soup he did not even try to grab, spoilt as it was. Noah shooting back up on his feet, filling the room with a painfully loud yelp that Rick cringed at.

“I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to do that!”

He pushed his hands against his mouth in haste as he saw Rick’s reaction to the loud scream. Noah’s eyes being at the tearing point, far too big for someone who could or would think of killing you. Looking more like one who wished nothing more than to run away in tears.

Rick narrowed his eyes at the sight, shifting the grip around his knife. Changing his weight from one leg to the other. In Noah, Rick saw nothing that could indicate danger. But he kept those kinds of thoughts away, pushing them aside as he clearly remembered who had stabbed him just a few hours earlier, or was it days?

Rick bent down, reaching for the bread, grabbing it slowly as he kept his eyes on Noah. Noah making no moves to intercept, no moves at all. Rick slowly pushed the bread behind himself, hoping that Abigail would grab it. His leg going lighter, then the bread disappeared from his hand, and the weight reappeared on his leg. Rick didn’t need to see why, instead he kept his eyes on Noah, ready for anything. But apparently, he wasn’t ready for everything as Noah spoke of something surprising.

“It wasn’t meant to happen like this. I’m so sorry. I panicked! And now that you know my secret I can't let you tell that fucking champion! Fuck fuck fuck! Why is he here? I’m sorry okay? I’ll get you the best medicine I can find. And-and the best food! Fuck, but I really can’t let you go! I’ve done too much for this church for it all to go to waste. I can’t let you tell him or that -fucking- red haired royal guard would -fucking- piss down my throat! Shit why is he here too? Why is everything going to shit now?”

He spoke loudly, more to himself than to Rick. Rick hearing no lies, still not feeling comfortable. Abigail peeking around Rick's legs, seeming to get a semblance of bravery, or just curiosity. Staring at Noah, her face hidden underneath black hair and shadows. As she peeked, Noah seemed to notice her for the first time, his hands leaving his face.

“Abigail! I did not mean to do that! You know I wouldn’t? Right? Oh Abigail, to think you would feel so frightened of me. I did not think it would make you fear me so much. I’m so sorry Abigail.”

Noah said, his voice going lighter, softer, shameful and being at the breaking point. The breaking point of tears poorly held back. Rick turned slowly towards Abigail, keeping his eyes on Noah, shooting a swift glance at Abigail to see her reaction. The glance not able to pierce her black hair, pierce the shadows, not able to see her expression.

Rick didn’t dwell on it, Rick kept staring at Noah instead, shifting the weight of the knife around his fingers. Rick’s stomach growing increasingly painful, the energy that had once been a perfect painkiller, now gone with their long pause. He feared that he might collapse if it kept going.

“And if-if it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you keep the knife! Yeah! And-and I really deserved that kick, didn't I? Yeah hehehe. But seriously, I really can’t let you leave. Not now. Not until the champion and that royal guard leaves-”

He paused for a second, collecting his voice, breathing harshly with closed eyes. Eyes seemingly holding back tears. Breath seemingly choking. But with time, his breathing going calmer, each breath calming, each intake of air refreshing. And as he finished, he looked a different man. A man Rick remembered, the same man who’d stood confidently at the foot of the church’s doors with a smile that spoke of only kindness. Eyes that were still closed but with an expression that spoke of love.

“I can’t let them ruin this church.”

Holding the expression for a long while, longer than one thought a man in his position could. Looking like a monk on the steps of enlightenment. Like a father seeing their son succeed in life. Like a mother finding out that they are pregnant.

But the moment disappeared just as quickly as it had come. His eyes opening and the expression of shame replacing it. Head falling down as they avoided Rick’s eyes. Noah’s own eyes seeing the empty bowl on the floor, opening his mouth as he dashed away.

“I’ll get you guys new soup! And water, and clean clothes and something to clean with and-“

The voice disappearing with the loud clap of a door slamming closed. Rick feeling his entire body sag as if a doll had cut their strings. He managed a few stumbling steps backward before he fell completely, managing to stumble back into the wall.

Abigail shrieking in surprise, attempting to hold him up, failing miserably. Rick took a deep breath, breathing heavily, feeling as if he’d held his breath for the entirety of Noah’s stay. He breathed, tried to collect himself with his back against the wall and legs resting on the ground, each foot pointing in a different direction. The knife limply placed in his hand, hand resting on the ground, wide open. The other placed firmly against his stomach, trying to push against the painful wound, not helping.

Abigail sat beside him, staring at Rick with what he could only describe as owl eyes. Watching. Staring. Deciphering. She looked on the verge of tears, but they didn’t budge. She looked like she’d want to do nothing but hide, but she didn’t move. Instead, she sat and stared at Rick.

Rick turned to look back, weirdly humoured, the situation being so bizarre that he couldn’t help but feel humoured by it. And as he turned to look at her, he lifted the hand holding his wound, slowly petting Abigails head, trying to reassure her. Frowning as he noticed himself smearing warm blood in her hair instead.

Looking down, Rick saw a tiny stream trickling out between fingers. He frowned further, then turned to look at the knife. As he did, he tried flexing his hand, feeling it numbly closing around the knife. Strength like an insect, weak and pathetic. He blinked at the sight. And then blinked twice in surprise. For in his head, he found not despair, not anger, not sadness, not confusion, not fear. None of that. What Rick found instead, was a single thought.

How do I save Abigail?