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Pasha was supposed to be strong. To inspire Cruz, to put Rivener and Cesc at ease, to prove that she was useful, and more than just a guest in this search party. But faced with hundreds of slipping, chittering, clacking, scuttling nightmare bugs, all intent on stripping the flesh from their ribbons...

Melisande screamed.

The crystalline note was high, pure, and utterly deafening. Leaves shuddered down from the trees, and something snapped with a sharp crack in one of Pasha's pouches. The Muse slapped her hands over her own mouth, ending the clarion ringing as abruptly as it had begun. She'd never in her life had the occasion to scream before, and it shocked her almost as much as the centipedes had.

"Maybe...scatter the coals! Or the bug spray?" Pasha's tone was desperate, still muffled behind her hands clasped in horror over her mouth. She and Cruz would be fine, unless centipedes could jump, but the humans...

"Oh no, where's Trox?!"

Trox didn’t want to look down, the floor of the jungle was becoming increasingly crustier and that made him wince, thinking of what it could be, in no time he started legging it through the forest. With his hands in front of his face the pilot made a point of stomping his feet down on the mass of centipedes before giving up and all but sprinting in the underbrush to the opening of the cramp.

Meli’s banshee like scream was not something he was expecting, his hands clamped down over his ears and he became disorientated and stumbled over a vine, sending his flashlight skittering to the base of a large tree. He had to think fast. Panting, Trox smacked the stick to his left, and used it like a crutch to stand again, weight squarely on two feet. s**t that left ankle was less for wear. He must have twisted it during the fall but couldn’t think of that now.

It wasn’t until he heard the feint cries of his name that he looked behind him and saw them. The large creatures stumbling like him over each other, crushing their own kin but never to death. It was almost fluid. Then he let out something between a cuss and grunt.

“Oh ******** that s**t!” he exclaimed before limping forward, grabbing his flashlight and using his stick to smack the brush before breaking into the camp’s circle. The insects were already crawling out on the trees but the horde was coming. His eyes were wide and showed the slightest bit of fear but he kept a stern face as he smacked the centipedes off of ********’ run! Get her up that cliff if y’can, holler at me, I’ll be righ’ behind.” He dropped to his knees quickly pulling out his knife and ripping off his shirt. He had extras. The sensation of the bugs crawling all over him was not a pleasant one but the horde was coming. He wrapped his shirt around the end of the stick before stabbing the aerosol bottle of bug spray with his knife. The can exploded in his hand, sharp edge cutting his palm and he shouted briefly before directing the spray onto the shirt. It would act as fuel for a makeshift torch.

He quickly stood, stumbling due to the pain pinging through his ankle and threw his ruck on his back. The centipedes were swarming his feet again, crawling up his pants. He scrambled for the stick, tossing the worm like bugs every way before dipping the doused t-shirt in the fire. It caught like an aged book and he immediately started slashing it at his feet to get the bugs away. Only then did he run to follow his group members.

Melisande could feel herself growing distant, her vision was pulling back and everyone's screams becoming muffled. For a moment, the Sigel teetered, wings extending unevenly. The ground was a writhing carpet of shiny carapace and flame. The dark jungle pressed down on her from all sides, and Melisande squeezed her eyes shut against the black.

You can't use your talents for yourself, and for others. It's not allowed.

Bright points of light swam in her vision as she opened her eyes again. She could see Trox waving a torch, screaming soundlessly...she could see Cruz tugging at Anita, roaring something that Pasha could not hear. Everything seemed very surreal, as the memory of the elder Muse's warning came back to her.

Not allowed. But possible.

Melisande recalled their dire prediction. She would burn herself out, inspiring others and herself. Considering what they were faced with, that seemed like the preferable option.

Pasha grabbed the chain that hung round her neck, fist closing tightly around the ring that she wore against her heart. The edges of it pressed painfully against her palm as she focused, reaching deep for the light that seemed so far away. When she opened her eyes, the Muse could breathe again. This wasn't the end of the world, it was bugs in a campsite. That was all.

"Of course we can, Cruz." A distant part of her knew they weren't anywhere strong enough to lift Anita, but that fact seemed suddenly irrelevant. She laid her hand over the Frei's for a moment, and smiled. Strength and confidence seemed to flow between them, and the glow from Melisande's rune cast a rosy tint over the sea of shining black bodies. "Together!"

Woman willing, Melisande hooked an arm under Anita's and waited for Cruz to get into position. She ignored the terrible ruddy beast that had clawed its way up the woman's back, and now reared at Pasha's face. Its long antennae brushed her face for a moment, trailing across her cheek and lips, before it dropped its gruesome pinchers to the Sigel's hand and bit.

Pain shot through her hand, followed by a sick numbness. Pasha gave a twitch, and sent the monster back down into its tangle of brethren.

"Ready? We make for the cliff. Up!!" At best, they would only be able to manage a foot or so of lift...but if her inspiration held, it would be enough. She silently hoped they made it far before the poison spread. Already, dizzying pain was traveling up her arm, and the angry red welt on her hand split and bled, a thin trickle of red crossed with clear venom.

Somewhere, deep in another part of the jungle, Melisande's blossom began to wilt.

He felt a drip, drip, drip landing squarely on his clavicle, sweat sliding down his cheek due to the jungle heat, humidity and the torch in his hand. The swarm was pooling like water at his feet. Between the flames and his sizable footprint, Harrison was able to deter the beginning of the swarm; he didn’t know just how long he’d be able to keep them at bay. Now he was the only fleshy object on the ground and at the feet of the mass of scrambling exoskeletons. Trox’s breath quickened and he bit his lip, stepping backwards. He only needed to hold his ground until Pasha and Cruz had carried Anita out of the immediate danger zone. He looked behind him and saw Anita clinging to the edge of the cliff and immediately darted towards the vertical mass of rock. His ankle protested but he knelt down and gathered the leaves and wood beneath his feet. He had to buy time in order to climb the face.

Harrison hastily assembled a pile of shrub and leaves and rested the torch in the greenery. Hopefully the leaves would eventually catch fire. The jungle was too much of a moist environment to cause a forest fire and the cliff face provided a buffer of empty space. To be honest forest fire safety wasn’t on the forefront of his mind.

“Yenno what? ******** Smokey the bear,” the pilot mumbled to himself as he turned and hoisted himself onto the cliff face. Just like Mountain warfare training. Without the safeties or the ropes or any of his equipment.

The open wound on his hand seeped and shot flares of pain with each grip of some rock handhold he reached for. Rocks, dirt and pebbles dug their way into the laceration- something he’d definitely need to clean out later once given a chance. If they were given a chance. One thing was for certain, he noticed while hanging entirely on his arms, using his skeletal structure as means to hold him in place effortlessly, he might not be able to make it to the top with his ruck on. The backpack alone weighed near 70 lbs. Fault of being a prepared hiker. While he still owned the Ranger tab, he was far from Ranger fitness. Years in the cockpit had done a sizable number on his strength in the field.

It was then that he registered Cruz’s inquiry. His pride might take a hit but after barely two meters of progress in their closing time gap.

“Cruz, I need some he-“ His hand slipped from the rock, blood slickening the surface, “s**t! Help me with this ruck!” Trox hastily shouted, the spurt of adrenalin allowing him to scramble to a less compromised hold. That much closer to the top.

Melisande's heart was hammering from the exertion of helping Anita up the cliff. Inspiration could only go so far...her body had still done the work, and the muscles across her back ached from the desperate strokes of her wings. The line of numbness had crept to her chest, followed by blazing pain.

The moment they reached the top, the Muse slumped. Her ribbon undulated against the ground like the tail of a lounging cat. She rested her weight on the arm with the unbitten hand, face pale and beaded with sweat.

The illusion of infallible beauty that always seemed to surround the Sigel was broken. The pain showed in her expression, curls artlessly tangled and blood smearing across her chest as she cradled her injured hand. For the first time, Melisande looked like neither angel nor Muse. She looked like a woman, tired and sore, resting against the rocks atop the cliff.

"Yes." She answered Anita quietly, trying not to startle Cruz. Luckily, the kind hearted Frei was already lunging back over the cliff to help Trox. Pasha's wings spread as though she wished to go as well, but her stomach flipped at the effort and she pressed her lips tightly together. The numbness reached her other shoulder, and the pain had started its smoldering creep across her chest.

Instead, she moved her hand away from her chest and showed it to the woman. The welt was the size of half a golf ball, and was still oozing blood and yellowish venom from the place where it had split. "I just need...a moment. Can you help them?"

Melisande smiled wanly at Anita, trying to convince the woman she'd be fine. It was just a little bite. She felt the way she had the morning after she'd gone drinking with Laz and Rivener, but tenfold. Her stomach flipped again, and she took a breath, trying to pull herself together. Petals from the flowers at her temples fell free, plastering themselves to her cheeks.

Trox hated precarious positions. His work required them, as the mechanics of a helicopter are only marginally stable until something goes wrong and you spin out of control to a fireball ending. This was a bit too precarious for any peace of mind. The backpack weighed down his shoulders and Harrison had to slouch away from the cliff face. He could feel the presence of gravity all too clearly now and the unpleasant feeling of butterflies in his stomach rose up. He looked upwards, Cruz’s rune glowing under the brim of his cap. Relief flooded his body and he started to shrug the pack off, sliding it to one arm, holding it out for Cruz. Quickly his arm was spent.

“Okay,” Harrison panted, swallowing and wiping his forehead, “y’go- strai- Cruz!”

The plummeting frei was something he was not prepared for, a large hand swung down to grapple at any portion of the pack or Cruz but missed by a mile. He cussed loudly and slipped in his grip- sinking further to stability. That’s when the centipedes caught up to him. He couldn’t feel them due to the thick nature of his pants, pants that were artfully tucked into his boots in a feeble attempt to prevent anything from crawling in. When he looked down for the raevan his headlamp illuminated their ranging bodies, small and large, licking at his boots with their forefront legs. He kicked at them and shot upward a few holds.

“Cruz!” The pilot tried to get a positive location to the Frei’s position, once he turned his head he saw that the Raevan had started to pass him. Well he’d be damned. Cruz’s fierce ‘keep going!’ command warranted a barking laugh from Trox, not to be impolite but the relief of knowing he hadn’t been the cause of someone’s misfortune be it centipedes or a nasty fall. He needed the levity to keep his blood from boiling over. This situation was an all around shitty one and it wasn’t getting better at all.

Without the weight on his back Harrison was able to navigate the cliff face with relative ease. After the first few slips he’d taken to testing each hold before relying in the safety of the rock. Cruz’s aid was integral to getting him to the top of the cliff but the endeavor was not without its consequences. Lack of dinner and it being so late in the evening definitely had a stronger effect of exhaustion than had he done this climb first thing in the morning. And with the proper equipment. Trox was spent.

He moved sluggishly, arms hooking over the top of the cliff face grappling for something to dig his nails into. His bleeding hand continued to ooze and his ankle was pressing to the tight confines of his boot as it swelled. Minor injuries for sure but they still made themselves known. He was barely able to take a breather before looking over at Cruz.

“Are you okay, three trips up this thing…” He panted out and shook his head, “You’re a warrior, kid… What’s wrong with Pasha?”

Harrison moved over behind Anita, gripping her shoulder firmly, more to stay upright than to alert her of his proximity. He did an Anita once over to make sure she was all right then looked to the wilting Sigel. Her hand was swollen to all hell. s**t was that a snake bite? ******** swarm’s still following us and we need t’get the venom out…” Trox’s mind was racing towards his training for snake bites, despite the bite actually belonging to a centipede. The unfortunate thing was between the exhaustion, the physical abuse and the lack of food during SERE they skimmed over it or he was sleeping with his eyes open. When they were out in the woods they were required to call a medevac for a bitten soldier. This wasn’t so easy.

Pasha relaxed visibly once Anita's hitchhikers were thrown back over the edge, and Trox and Cruz were both safely up the cliff. She offered a wan smile to both of them. The Frei had done well. They'd lost some gear, like the Sigel's poncho, but there was no going back for it now.

She didn't argue as Anita tended to her bite, watching as the water washed away the bits of grime and blood. Melisande even took a sip as instructed, closing the bottle as carefully as she could one handed. The wound didn't look too bad once it was clean, just a lump with a scratch on it really, but she could still feel the effects. It felt like a fever in the center of her, hot and restless, and her muscles ached and burned.

"I won't pl-" Pasha's shoulders hunched, and she pressed her lips together until the wave of nausea subsided a little. "Play. I didn't know they were poisonous. I'll be okay." She finished, weakly. The Muse lifted one hand and pointed to the edge of the cliff.

Some of the heartier monstrosities had clawed their way to the top. Their antennae came over first, waving like silent reeds, before the rest of their terrible segmented bodies slipped over. It reminded her of the way Zul's chain had slid over the edge of the desk, but in reverse. She remembered the weight of the ring in her hand as she'd...

Pasha gave her head a shake, trying to stay with the program. The motion made a pain shoot from temple to temple, and her stomach flipped sickeningly again. "They're coming."

Anita carrying her was starting to sound like a pretty good plan.