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"I don't know, Lucas. ...I don't know." There wasn't an answer. They were lab animals, and not even given the decency of having animal minds, so they wouldn't wholly know what was happening to them. They were such complex creatures, these feeling, emotional labrats. She didn't know what to tell him- not when he was so close to a brink she knew so well. A form of guilt had 'saved' her, keeping her from taking her own life or spiralling down into the darkness- but to what end? She'd been a zombie for the past few months, a shell of the vibrant personality she'd once been. There was a deep hurt in Emelyn, and the guilt she felt over having even that... disappointment, kept her on a manic edge. She didn't feel justified in giving Lucas any advice, to pull him from a brink into a white, nebulous world that was ugly in its clouds of denial and avoidance.
She returned to a previous thought- that they didn't even have the priveledge of the animal mindset to free them some of the torment... and somehow, it seemed- if not 'right', at least the only thing she could think of to say.

"Maybe it's not a bad thing that the dhole is so present. Maybe for a while- you should... let it ... run things." It was delicate thing to suggest, and she didn't know how he would take it.

She backed up, the ire in his voice settling the spines at her neck to a warning high point. She put her palms up, as well- a human gesture of defense that only added to her already hedgehog response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that was why..." she stopped, swallowing her words. "I just thought that maybe you could use a break. I'm sorry, I didn't know that was what it was like for you." Lucas was right, in his way. In coupling her genes with that of a hedgehog, Emelyn was still an omnivorous, friendly creature with aims for food, sleep, and general protection that was untainted by an overabundance of fear. There was a reason that wild hedgehogs were quite susceptible to the many hedgehog ailments and fatal diseases: it was Mother Nature's way of balancing out the population of a species with few mortal enemies and little fear of life. There was the 'gross factor' for Emelyn, upturning logs to seek out grubs, and the sweet smell of compost- as well as the need to burrow beneath leaves and even the faint, far-away desire to lick a frothy mess onto her spines... but all in all, Emelyn couldn't understand the particular brand of horror that Lucas and some of the others were going through. Her own experience had been horrifying and raw for much more emotional reasons- betrayal, loss... and loneliness.

That was the fatal treasure of Moreau's Hell Island- that each and every 'resident' was the owner of a very different brand of horror.

She dropped her hands, puzzled at his reaction, and then her eyes went wide to match his as she connected his words to his actions.

"Oh, no, Lucas- I know you... you wouldn't do... no. I just didn't want to upset you any more."

"Sure. Of course." She eased to a stand, her right knee popping as she did so, and went across the room to the mini fridge to get the bottle. She opened the cap with a little difficulty, squeezing the childproof cap between her hairless fingers in a way that her claws wouldn't interfere. She poured a handful into her palm, then shuffled the small white pills back into the bottle until only three remained. She replaced the cap and the bottle, then stood facing opposite of Lucas, the pills sheltered in the closed-off cave of her hand, and her eyes shut as she sighed softly. When she opened her eyes, her thoughts- and questions- which she didn't want to ask- were pushed aside. She thought to get some water from the bathroom for him to drink with the pills- maybe there would be a cup there he might be able to use. But on the way to the adjoining room, she brushed up against the bed and noticed for the first time the note there on the coverlet.

She didn't have to pick it up to read what it said. An eye for an eye. She shuddered, and found herself sinking to the bed. An eye for an eye. Who had written it? Who behind those white, pristine walls had that sort of horror in him? ...Or her. Lucas had said that the eye had been taken because he'd given himself over to the dhole- and now, here was a message saying that there was retribution behind it. Had he taken someone else's eye? Was there another sad, blind example on the island that she might one day come across and feel a similar sort of horror? Did Lucas deserve this?

She answered the question as soon as it solidified. Of course he didn't. His actions had been driven by the serum that they had inflicted upon him- in a moment of weakness. And who even knew the circumstances that would have provoked even an animal to blind someone? Animals don't feel spite, they don't feel anger- they strike for protection or for some manner of survival for themselves or others. Besides which.. in a world of eye for an eye... everyone would be blind.

Emelyn reached out and lay hand on the note, and she crumpled it. Then she went across the room and threw it almost vehemently into the trash. Her eyes welled up and she wiped the infant tears away angrily, as well. Only then did she clear her throat.

"Do you want something to drink these with, Lucas?" She asked, acting as if her grand pause had never occured.

She looked around the room, as if for the first time. It was a shambles. The only thing that seemed to be in place were those dog dishes for... she looked to the two canines. She'd not even asked about Lucas's new companion.

"Do... you have any bowls anywhere? All I can see is one for the dog. ...What's its name, by the way?" It was a veneer of normalcy, but it was better than nothing.

It was painful to watch him crawl, but likely not nearly as painful as it was for him. Emelyn took the bowl from him, and went to the sink in the bathroom to fill it. She felt no qualms in doing so- there was no indignity in drinking from a bowl, especially as she'd taken to it more often than not since her final transformation.

"Dasher," she said, turning off the faucet and balancing the bowl in her hand once the water level stopped sloshing. "That's a sweet name."She didn't ask where he came from. She'd been avoiding questioning so long now, that to focus on something trivial would be mocking- the very idea of it cloyed in her mind.

She came back and, kneeling near him, put the bowl next to his thigh, and offered out the pills in her hand. "Grandpa John used to say that aspirin on a weak stomach will make you sicker," she said softly- and simply.

"Food's something I'm good at." She smiled wanly. Since coming back to the village, and away from the scavenger's lifestyle, she'd gained a good fifteen or twenty pounds on what had been a very lean frame. It was a combination of her human stress and the hedgehog notion of how much food should be consumed in a day, and the result was a rounding out of all her features.

"I'll go get you something. Are you mostly a meat eater these days? Cooked, or more on the rare side?" She said it simply, hoping that by not placing a stigma of hesitation on the words he'd let her help him without undue embarassment.

"Alright. I'll be back soon. ...Do you mind if I take Dasher along? Does he mind?" She looked down at the dog, and was gifted with another flicker of a memory- someone coming in and out of a duplex with Reuben, while she turned on a feverish bed. It was viciously unpleasant, and her lips parted as if to hiss- but the sound was inaudible at best.