Page 104 of Unhinged Omega

And deadly, if we don't find better shelter soon.

At least for me. Not sure about him.

I turn my attention back to the Knight. He hasn't moved, those glowing eyes still fixed on me. But there's something different about his gaze now. It's less predatory, somehow. Almost curious.

"Can you understand me?" I ask, my voice rough from sleep and cold.

He doesn't respond.

I need to get him up. Need to get us both moving before we die out here. But how do I communicate with a creature I'm not even sure is fully sapient? Maybe not even sentient.

Wincing at the way my joints crack, I rise to my feet. "Up," I say firmly, making an upward gesture with my hands. "We need to get up now."

For a long time, nothing happens. Then, slowly, laboriously, the Knight begins to move. I step back, giving him space as he struggles to his feet.

Even hunched over as he is, clearly weak from his injuries, he towers over me. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, and for a moment, that old fear threatens to overwhelm me.

But I push it down.

He hasn't hurt me.

Hesavedme, in a way, by providing warmth and protection through the night.

And right now, he's all I've got.

"Good," I say, trying to keep my voice steady and encouraging. "That's good. Now we need to walk. Find shelter."

I take a few steps, then turn back to see if he's following. He is, but his movements are slow and unsteady. Blue-black blood oozes from some of his wounds where my makeshift bandages and herb packs have come loose. His breathing is labored, each exhale ending in a wet rattle that can't be good.

But we're on our own out here.

And I doubt anyone would try to help him.

I lead the way deeper into the forest, picking my way carefully over fallen logs and through tangles of dead underbrush. The Knight follows, his heavy footsteps crunching through the frost-covered ground. Every so often I glance back, making sure he's still with me.

He always is, those glowing eyes never leaving me.

As we walk, I try to recall everything my mother taught me about wilderness survival. I wonder if she ever imagined a scenario quite like this.

First priority, shelter, her voice echoes in my head.You can survive three hours in extreme temperatures, three days without water, and three weeks without food. Find something to keep you out of the elements.

I scan our surroundings, looking for anything that might serve as a temporary refuge. A cave would be ideal, but those are hard to come by in this type of forest. A fallen tree, maybe? Or we could try to construct a lean-to...

My eyes land on a massive oak tree not far ahead, its thick branches reaching toward the pale sky. It's not perfect, but it'll have to do.

"This way," I say, gesturing toward the tree. I'm not sure if he understands me, but talking helps. It makes this whole surreal situation feel a little more normal. "We can use the branches for shelter."

As we approach the oak, I start gathering fallen branches and dead leaves. My fingers are numb with cold, making it difficult to grip anything, but I force myself to keep working. The Knight watches me in unnerving silence. I can't tell if he's confused or just observing.

"Here," I say, holding out a branch to him. "Can you help?"

He stares at the branch for a long moment, then slowly reaches out. His fingers—not the metal claws—brush against mine as he takes it, and I'm struck by how warm he is, even now. He examines the branch, turning it over in his massive hand.

"Good," I nod, encouraged. "We need more like that. As many as you can find."

To my surprise, he seems to understand. Or at least, he starts mimicking my actions, gathering branches and piling them near the base of the tree. His movements are clumsy, but he's trying. It's more than I expected.

As we work, I keep stealing glances at him. The silver rays of pale morning light catch on his exposed skin, highlighting every ridge of scar tissue, every place where metal meets flesh in crude surgical seams. Most of the plating is concentrated on his right shoulder, upper right chest, and upper right back, supporting his clawed iron arm.

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