Talulah looked at the young Elafia standing beside Jeanne in sheer disbelief. How did she sneak out? She was supposed to be fast asleep at home! There was no reason for her to leave with them.
Talulah's mind was in a whirl. Who else could this little deer be but Alina? For a moment, her brain simply couldn't process the reality before her.
"Alina, why did you follow us?"
"Isn't it obvious? Of course I'm going with you. How could I let you two leave me behind and face everything alone?"
"No, you don't understand," Talulah argued. "We were driven out for specific reasons, but you weren't part of that. There's no need for you to come along! It's dangerous out here—this isn't the time for acting on impulse! Besides, what will Grandma and Grandpa do when they find you gone?"
Talulah's concern was well-founded. Compared to the two "superhumans" standing there, Alina was not a fighter. Moreover, her constitution had always been somewhat frail; Talulah worried she wouldn't survive the brutal blizzards of the tundra.
"I've already spoken to them, and they gave me their blessing to leave. They said they can look after themselves... and there's something I've never told either of you. I... I am also Infected."
Talulah fell silent. Having lived with her for so long, she had never realized that Alina was also carrying the Oripathy.
She glanced at Jeanne's expression; it was clear Jeanne had known all along. But thinking back on their daily lives, she couldn't recall a single time Alina had suffered an outbreak. Wait—come to think of it, Talulah's own symptoms had been unusually quiet since arriving here. She had initially thought it was just a mild infection, but now she realized there must be another reason.
"Alright then. Let's go together."
Talulah looked at Alina, moved that she would secretly follow them into such a dark night. If Alina was indeed Infected, staying in the village might actually be more dangerous for her in the long run.
However, the flame on Alina's tail flickered unsteadily, betraying the inner turmoil she was trying to hide.
"So, what's the plan? Find another village to hide in? Or should we try to leave Ursus entirely and find a more suitable country?" Jeanne asked the two of them.
Personally, Jeanne didn't mind where they went; she could thrive anywhere. If all else failed, she figured she could try her luck in Laterano. Perhaps they would take her in out of respect for the "God" she followed. After all, those halo-wearing angels must have some connection to her own Deity—and He certainly wouldn't appreciate anyone "bootlegging" His likeness.
"I want to take action in the snowfields," Talulah said solemnly. This was her true ideal. "I want to create a place where all Infected can live. Not like now, where we are treated as meaningless waste, used up as mere consumables."
Over the years, she had seen too many people snatched away simply because they were Infected—whether they were doctors saving lives or soldiers serving Ursus. This environment that oppressed based on infection rather than character made her yearn for change. And it had to start here, in the snowfields, where the oppression was most severe.
"What about you, Jeanne? Maybe you should go to Lungmen," Talulah suggested, looking at her friend. Jeanne was different; she was non-Infected and only leaving because she was implicated by Talulah. "It's far, but if I write a letter for you, you could find a good job there."
Talulah figured that if she wrote to that old man, Wei Yenwu, he would surely look after Jeanne for her sake.
Interestingly, a faint, hallucinatory voice echoed in the back of Talulah's mind, whispering: Let her go... leave this place... run, please... for the love of everything, just go... Was this some lingering curse Kashchey had placed on her before "dying"?
"I'm staying with you, obviously," Jeanne replied. Talulah had expected the answer, but it still struck a chord. "The two of you alone? I wouldn't have a moment's peace. Without me, you probably wouldn't even be able to find the next village."
"Instead of living out a dull life in some unknown place, I'd rather try to change something," Jeanne continued before Talulah could protest. She could guess what Talulah was going to say—the usual talk about Infected versus non-Infected. To Jeanne, who didn't subscribe to those labels, such arguments carried no weight.
"Now, move it. I remember a cave up ahead where we can rest. Honestly, I shouldn't have listened to you and snuck out in the middle of the night."
Jeanne grabbed both of them and pulled them toward the cave. The sudden movement broke Talulah's train of thought, making her forget her mission to convince Jeanne to leave. Jeanne had no intention of arguing; she knew that with a stubborn person like Talulah, the best way to handle her was to overwhelm her brain with a new task. Since Talulah could usually only process one thing at a time, she'd eventually just accept the new reality.
That night, the three girls spent their first night away from home in the cave. Talulah was already snoring loudly, while Jeanne was performing her prayers.
It wasn't anything mystical; she simply recounted the day's events to her God, using the ritual to organize her own thoughts. When she finished, she noticed Alina watching them with her trademark gentle smile.
"I thought you'd side with Talulah and oppose me joining the group," Jeanne whispered to Alina. She knew her gentle friend was, in fact, very pragmatic. Unlike the impulsive Talulah, Alina exercised restraint and rationality.
"I couldn't do that," Alina said, stretching. "If I could, I'd wish for you to find a Mobile City to live in; you'd have a better life there. But I know that once you've set your mind on something, you'll see it through. When you made your decision... I don't know if you noticed, but the light in your eyes was absolutely brilliant."
In the depths of sleep, Talulah had a dream.
She saw Kashchey transformed into a black snake, wailing piteously under a shroud of divine, holy light. Under that radiance, his body was constantly melting, yet the snake was being forced to regenerate over and over again.
It reminded her of a discarded Yanese torture she had read about in books: "death by a thousand cuts"—a horrific method where the victim's flesh is sliced away bit by bit while they are kept alive to feel every moment.
"Please... have mercy! I was wrong! I shouldn't have laid a finger on her... AAAAAGH! I surrender! Can I surrender?! Please, no more... I can't take any more..."
The Black Snake begged for mercy, pleading for the Master of the Light to forgive him. But the only response was the relentless, holy glow, continuing to burn through his very existence.