The following night was the worst. Morale was sorely diminished, and both of them - however reluctant they were to admit it - were almost past the point of exhaustion. Saxophone, with the scratches all down her side, feared infection. Snake, with his leg worn from climbing and running and walking, feared falling and not getting back up.

Above them, stars glittered like spilled diamonds, scattered carelessly, shedding light on the darkened lands. Twin moons smiled at eachother, and the unnoticed clouds crept slowly across the sky and threatened to cause a blackout. The scent of spices; the sound of laughter; both heavy in the air as the agents traipsed on through a tiny village that neighboured the sea. They were careful, here. So careful. Who knew what might lurk in the void of water nearby? Not them, that was for certain.

They were afraid of being seen by anyone. Biped creatures dwelled here; too-long arms and too-short legs, horns sprouting from seemingly random orifices on their hardened bodies. They didn't speak the same language as the two, as they could tell from the incoherent accents and voices that rang out in the badly-built houses the people inhabited. They were loud. Was there a celebration of some kind?

There was no time to stop and find out. Perhaps they could have rested there for the night, maybe found someone capable of healing their wounds - but that would increase their chances of being found again, which were already high due to a slow pace, and no doubt a strong scent trail. Hope? What was that, again?

The female nearly lost her mind when her male counterpart insisted that they stop. The village was long gone now, leaving them alone on a dusty road, where carriages had obviously travelled frequently. Slowly, the white-haired female turned to her comrade, lips pressed into a thin line, and asked him to repeat himself.

"We gotta stop." And then Snake collapsed on the roadside, left leg simply giving way and forcing him onto the dirty ground. He grimaced and clenched his teeth, panting, looking up at Saxophone pleadingly. The blood on her torn clothing had long dried, and she had refused to stop to clean or cover the gashes. Her lack of care, Snake thought, would get her killed someday.

"We--can't--stop." Saxophone snarled through sharp, gritted teeth, baring them furiously, eyes flashing. She did not kneel down beside him, or offer any sympathy. Not a single gesture of kindness. "Get the hell up!"

"I can't." He shook his head, chest heaving, fatigue threatening to take him. The woman near him looked similarly exhausted, if not more so. Perhaps she had more willpower than him. Perhaps she was just foolish. All these years of experience, training, and this was how they had ended up? "I can't, my leg--"

"Damn you and your leg! I'm not stayin' here to be found!" Her voice rose furiously, piercing the air - a stupid act that had given them away before, but did not seem to do so this time. Sax turned abruptly and stormed onwards, leaving her supposed friend behind her.

Desperate, Snake cried out. "Sax!" She didn't stop. "You can't damn well leave me here!" His voice cracked as if he was about to cry. "Anne-Marie! I need to see Anne-Marie!"

Saxophone stopped, tense.

For a long time there was silence and stillness save for their heavy breathing and the rise and fall of pained chests. Eventually, a breakthrough - the woman turned and walked back, glaring as she took Snake's large hand in her own, yanking him upwards. Both agents cried out in pain; Sax's ribs burning, Snake's knee throbbing. Saxophone pulled Snake's arm around her shoulders, helping ease the pressure on his leg, and forced him onward.

How far did they manage to struggle on? How many times did one of them fall, babbling incoherently, frantically, only to be picked up and dragged on by the other? How long did they groan and mumble about seeing home before their very eyes? How many times was the subject of turning back brought up and subsequently rejected?

When Sax collapsed, Snake thought the world was ending. He dropped to his knees beside her, begging her to get up, insisting they had to keep going, didn't she want to be free? He shouted, he called her a coward and screamed himself hoarse telling her unconscious body that she was weak, that she was useless.

Death was pushed aside by sweet relief's open arms as the night took them both, and suffocated them into submission.