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A lump formed in Emelyn's throat- and she didn't even know why, until she fully thought through Emerwyn's words, wondering if they may apply to her. The lump didn't threaten to cause tears to form, or even to create a grip on her chest, seizing her heart- like so many other lumps that formed in her throat threatened to do. Instead, this one sat, pregnant- malicious, unwilling to move in the face of the situation.

"...Not quite," she said gently, easing her voice past the lump in her craw at a hoarse whisper, "but I've tried to help someone before... tried with all my heart to save them, and it just didn't work. It was out of my power. ...Maybe everything you've done to help this person- maybe it's truly just out of your hands." Her mind was on Mizzie, that beloved sister that seemed now so long ago gone from her life. ...She had sat by her little sister and best friend's side during every chemotherapy, every radiation treatment- surgery... and she'd been there for the last moment, those final breaths of peace that were the catalyst for the greatest war in Emelyn's life. Nothing she'd been able to do had helped her sister- no amount of pleading, praying, bargaining, or hopefullness... had kept that angel on earth. And Emelyn was only now forgiving herself for that.

They were going in circles, and Emelyn couldn't reconcile her understanding with this circular, neverending pathos of Emerwyn's pain. So instead, she placed both her hands on the woman's arms, staring her directly in the eyes as she spoke. She knew it would greatly distress the woman- but that was partially the point- to focus her on some sort of issue that she could resolve. She gave the gift to Emerwyn- of a pain she could deal with, a pain she could handle- something to supercede the endless self-doubt pit she couldn't possibly draw herself out of.

"You're injured, Emer. You need to get back to the village, and get someone to clean you up. Those cuts could get infected." She spoke in slow, deliberate words- though she knew that what she said was not so important as what she was doing, what she was implying.

In the same breath, Em found herself consumed by a fear that she would let go her convictions. She let loose Emerwyn and backed up, grabbing her torn garbage bag and holding it to her chest as if it were one of her beloved childhood stuffed animals she'd used to comfort herself in times of need. She backed as far away from the woman as she dared without running into the woods, and she took deep breaths. She prayed that Emer wouldn't panic or hyperventilate- nothing that would warrant Emelyn having to take her back into the village to be helped.

Would she betray such newborn convictions? Did their youth make them frail, more readily violated? Emelyn felt sick to her stomach, and felt sick of her nagging guilt, that she should help Emer, should guide the very troubled woman.

"Emer, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you, or make you do anything you don't want to do," she said softly, from several feet away.

The poem- how she established the word 'we' without seeming like she meant to include Emelyn... it frightened her, and if she hadn't been clinging to her bag so tightly, she would have run her fingers through her proto quills anxiously.

"Emer... we need to get you back into the village. Is there anyone you trust? Anyone you would feel safe with? Because I don't think there's any way I can help you." Emelyn truly did feel helpless- but also, she was at her breaking point. Emer needed serious help, and Emelyn was too distraught herself to provide it- and too tired of all the darker points in life. She was nocturnal now- but some part of her yearned for the metaphorical light.

Em wanted to scream. Who in the world carried this much angst inside them? If it wasn't so depressing, it would be damn obnoxious.

"No one can help you? Come on, that's a little... dark. It's easy to pity yourself, Emer," she said, realizing she was being cruel but knowing that kindness hadn't worked with her. Maybe 'tough love' would. "Come on, get up... oh, you've scraped your knee. I'm going to take you to the edge of the village- it's very near- and then you're heading straight into your duplex, and taking a shower and a long, long nap." She changed her bag to one hand, and used the other to lead the woman to the forest's edge- slowly.

Emelyn felt like she was leading a zombie through the woods. The creature that followed her was silent, somber- as if all the life had retreated back behind her eyes, hidden behind an invisible glaze of fear and confusion. She didn't know what to say, so she was the silent leader as the night approached. When she reached the edge, the village just in sight, she wondered whether she'd made the right choice- maybe she should go in with her, make sure she didn't harm herself, or fall deeper into her depressive pit. But as distraught as Emerwyn looked before- she was practically... subdued, now, and Emelyn honestly didn't know what good she might have done. The confines of the village would change nothing.

She wrapped her arms around the woman. "Take care of yourself," she whispered in her ear, "You don't want to hurt anyone... so just know that if you're not good to yourself, I'll worry about you." She then left a soft, almost unnoticeable kiss of friendship on her cheek, and before she could gauge her reaction to the gesture of affection, Emelyn disappeared back into the jungle, shaken from her encounter but determined to find her first 'settlement'.

Awen hadn't thought she'd be back here in a long time. After the months she had spent outside without anything, even her video games one would think the girl would hate the confines of the bark and leaves. But a walk was just what she needed to clear her head after her long talk with Amaya. She could do this. She would save the newcomers, if not the islanders. After all..everything had an antidote right? There had to be an antidote.... Something that could reverse them back to normal... Yeah. So she was getting away not just for Avery Rex..and the skeasy new guy.... but for everyone.

She had grown unaware of how loud she was on land, tramping hrough the bushes. She had always been used to being able to tread lightly on the forest floors of her home, but after two months she had gotten used to being a little clumsier on land. A littler louder. It didn't much bother her anyway, she was alone.