"I thought it was only Fiona and Hanna who fought," Eva responded as Laurell and Fiona poked at the bugs she'd pointed out.
"You'd think, but the three take turns being at each other's throats," Roscoe said with a shrug. "Men use their fists to work out their differences. Those three prefer words." His head tilted thoughtfully, and Eva was reminded of the way Fiona and Hanna had thrown down the first day. "Most of the time."
"It's dead," Fiona announced.
"The poor bastards managed to kill the thing that killed them. Good for them," Ghost said in sympathy.
"More like once it finished its task it died shortly afterward," Fiona corrected.
Ghost pulled a dissatisfied expression.
Eva couldn't help but regret the loss of the two warriors and wondered if there was something more she could have done.
"The poultice wouldn't have worked," Fiona said, reading her expression. "They were too advanced. Hanna made the right decision. This infection or whatever you want to call it is moving much faster than Reece thought. Those spores would likely have infected us in much the same way the bug did."
Ghost grimaced. "What a way to go."
"Why didn't they go after us?" Roscoe asked suddenly. "We were both closer. Why them?"
"They went after the biggest threat first," Eva said softly.
Fiona gave her a sharp glance. "That's not the action of an insect."
Eva shook her head. "No, it isn't."
An insect wouldn't pick and choose. If anything, it would have been more hesitant to approach the two men and their flame, if only because it was afraid of fire.
That meant they had demonstrated conscious reasoning skills. That spoke of intelligence. Or someone guiding it from afar.
Laurell and the two men gave the bugs uncertain looks.
Eva didn't have to be good at reading people to know they were spooked. She was, too. There was a special sort of terror knowing you might become a puppet to someone else's whims. Alive, but not really.
It eclipsed the normal terror of beasts, perhaps because beasts might kill you but that would be the end. Not so with this.
Who knew how much the person those things used to be remembered of their lives? To be locked in your body, slave to another? Eva could think of no worse fate.
There was a sharp cry from a warrior near them and he stumbled back from securing the window as he clutched his hand. There was a slight scuttle of feet as one of the bugs finished crawling through, blood on its stinger.
As they watched, it seized and then fell dead to the floor.
"Rava protect us," Roscoe whispered.
"Watch out." Fiona yanked Eva out of the way before stomping down hard on one of the fist-sized bugs in the shape of a misshapen rose that had strayed dangerously close.
"Thanks," Eva muttered already hurrying past to the man.
She ripped off her belt on the way.
"Eva, get away from him," Fiona urged.
"There's still hope," Eva countered. She'd already watched two men die tonight. Perhaps they hadn't been her greatest friends, but she'd known them. She didn't want to see anyone else die if she could help it.
She wrapped the belt around the man’s arm about two inches below his elbow and tightened it as much as she could, creating a tourniquet.
"She's right, lass," the man said in a pain filled voice. There was resignation there. "It's safer to let them end me."
"Safe isn't always best," Eva said fiercely. "Reece was going to create a poultice. We need to get you to the healer and let him do his work."
