"So, what do you say?"
Eline gestured once more for him to grab her hand and agree to the offer, but Alwyn did not give in. Or at least he made it look so.
The offer was actually really tempting. He could get protection while he healed his wounds, and his chances of finding the other Reapers would also increase exponentially. Furthermore, Eline had a carriage full of provisions. With that, the journey back to Westguard would be like a walk in the park.
But he still had some suspicions about her offer. Why team up with a person on death's door? Why team up with someone you killed? Why did they kill the porters in the first place?
If he immediately accepted, theirs would not be a one-sided relationship. He would just be a slave, another pair of eyes to search for her teammates.
So he remained motionless on the ground, staring intently in the slits of her mask.
"Why don't you get off me first?"
Seeing that she did not respond, out of spite, he decided to pull a prank on her.
"If you stay like that for any longer I could seriously get a boner."
Eline had always been an austere girl, never engaging in small talk and activities with both Reapers and porters. He was curious about how such a girl would react to an idiotic and provocative comment like his. He was secretly studying her body language, eager to discover her reaction.
Although Alwyn could not catch sight of her puzzled eyes, he still sensed a hint of confusion in her demeanor. She looked at his face, and then gradually lowered the gaze, trying to comprehend the situation better. He was sprawled on thick grass, and she was sitting on his stomach with her legs spread wide open.
'Is she embarrassed? Ashamed perhaps?'
But Alwyn had never successfully understood what went through her head, and that time was no exception.
Slap.
He did not expect her to smack his face with all that strength. Such occurences were only present in fiction.
"Ouch! Are you crazy?!"
Eline was not embarrassed at all. Quite the contrary, her voice remained unperturbed.
"Lower your voice, the Revenant is here."
After saying that line, she got on her feet and assumed a fighting stance, twirling the scythe with her agile hands.
"Just stay there and don't do anything stupid."
The Reaper remained still in that pose, waiting for any subtle change in the environment. And when she sensed an almost imperceptible movement in a nearby bush, she darted towards it with lightning speed.
Boom.
Her scythe hovered in the air, much faster than before, emitting a sound similar to a thunderclap.
And the very air that it had sliced, immediately caught fire, creating an even more powerful explosion that propelled it straight into the target. The scythe was no simple weapon, it was an artifact.
When the undead wolf pounced, its blade was already lodged deep into its rib cage.
The impact was so tremendous that it made Alwyn roll two meters back. Such was the difference between mortals and Reapers.
'Was she holding back with me?!'
Eline then threw the beast to the ground and put a foot on it to dislodge the scythe from the body.
Alwyn looked at the Revenant. It was different from when it was alive. In just an hour it had grown twice in size, becoming as tall as a standing human.
Its original dark green color of the fur, that was supposed to help him camouflage inside the vegetation, was now completely gone, replaced with black-purplish tones.
Long pale spikes, supposedly made of bones, protruded from it, creating sharp blades that resembled its new claws and tusks.
Such a change was only possible because of the stagnation of its soul, trapped in a dead body. That transformation was irreversible, no existence could ever escape from it.
It was no longer a wolf, but a dreadful abomination that vaguely resembled one. It was no wonder that it had managed to rip the rope of cloth that Alwyn had coiled around its limbs.
The Revenant shrieked and tried to stand up, but Eline raised the scythe once more. What followed was a relentless series of attacks giving the opponent no time to react.
To an outside observer it could almost pass for an elegant dance, but in reality, it was a massacre.
The assault continued for minutes, until the Reaper eventually stopped and dropped the weapon to the ground.
She briefly clasped her hands, praying for the soul that she had just reaped.
Alwyn thought the gesture was hypocritical. Had they done the same with the porters? He doubted it. Or at least, the other four hadn't.
'Eline, perhaps…'
He knew not to get his hopes up, but he saw her under a new light.
'Could it be that she said my name to Gariss out of mercy?'
If the alliance successfully went through, the two would need to pull an all-nighter. There was a lot to discuss.
When she finished, Eline turned around and approached Alwyn.
"Are you okay?"
She examined his injuries.
His throat had been mangled by the wolf's jaws, his arms were bleeding from all the scratches he had procured himself while crawling, the ankles were a mess and his feet were still missing. On top of that, she had just inflicted a gashing wound on both his shoulder and back.
He was basically a walking corpse.
Alwyn responded with a smug smile.
"Never been better!"
She stared at him with a questioning look, not that he could see her face with that mask on. He had actually never seen what she looked like under it.
"You've changed. You've never made jokes in the past week."
Alwyn shrugged.
"I guess dying changes you... You should give it a try!"
Eline gave him a side eye.
"Whatever. If you have the strength to joke then follow me."
The two walked to the nearby carriage and she helped him get on it.
"It's late, we'll discuss the truce tomorrow. You can eat and drink whatever you can find, then go to sleep. I'll call you when it's your turn to keep guard."
"What?! I have to work even in these conditions?"
"We are not partners yet. The work gets evenly split between the two parties."
"You know what? Here, take my hand. I'll help you find you buddies so please, let me sleep in peace!"
Alwyn needed time to rest and let his wounds heal. He had already discovered that the process would slow down if he overworked himself too much.
If he was lucky, in only two nights he could return in perfect shape.
Eline shot him an inquisitory glance.
"You don't even want to hear my conditions?"
"I don't care, just hurry up and take my hand!"
The two shook hands.
The deal was sealed.
"Sweet dreams!"
He mocked her and shut the door.
Eline remained alone, embraced by the silent, cold darkness. She looked at her hand, closed her eyes, and then leaned her back against the carriage, slowly sliding down, until she sat on the hard soil.
"...Goodnight."