"Yeah," Genma nodded, a small movement that didn't flex his aching neck more than a few degrees. He looked over at his friend, pale in the moonlight, with his distinctive facial scar mostly hidden by crusted bandages. Hurt as he was, Raidou was still the epitome of strength, Genma thought. "Thanks." For getting me out of there. For carrying me. For enduring what no man should ever have to endure.

He started off at a slow, halting jog, pushing off strongly with his right leg, unsteadily with his left. Struggling to override the body's instinct to limit the weight he bore on the injured side.

Raidou matched his pace, falling in step not in his customary rear-guard position to his left, but side-by-side to Genma's right. To stop me pitching over, Genma thought. Raidou's concern was subtle, and strangely welcome, since it meant having Raidou where he could see him; look over and check that the bandages stayed in place, that no new grimace of pain crossed his face.

Genma stumbled, Raidou's attention riveted onto him, and Genma caught his footing again. Winced and kept going. "Don't worry--Rai--I can go--hours." He hoped. Hoped they both could. Raidou's skeptical frown said he'd believe it when he saw it.

There was no sound of pursuit. No sound but a spring breeze in the treetops, and their own laboured breathing.

"Yukaho--was from there. Near the border," Genma said. Keep talking. Keep alert. And don't let the memory of the woman you failed to save be only of her mangled, defiled corpse.