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8/23/2020 12:29:42 PM
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Ruthless Winter, Part 10

[url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/254979692/0/0]Table of Contents[/url] “I...” Elta murmurs, taking an unsteady step back. Her hands hover over the scorched mark on her chest, hardly larger than a button. It’s strange how horrifying something so small can be. “It doesn’t hurt...” “Oh Traveler,” I swear, getting a hold of myself and moving towards her to inspect the wound, “Are you-“ Another bolt of electricity passes dangerously close to my head. We both duck reflexively, even though it would have already been too late to dodge if we’d been in the bolt’s path. “We need to keep going,” I give her a worried look, “But-“ “I’m...fine,” she says. It’s not a convincing reply, but she turns to move on. We both jolt as yet another streak of Arc energy zips by. “Okay,” I reply reluctantly, following her. She doesn’t even take a dozen steps before slowing and doubling over. I hurry to her side and grab her shoulder, “I thought you said you were okay!” “I-“ Elta moans, struggling to take another step forward, ”Now it hurts.” “That doesn’t make any sense!” “I’m not an expert at being shot, Sal!” Elta barks. She’s surprisingly talkative. I have no idea what to do. My friend is probably going to die, everyone else is dead, and the Fallen are coming after us. Hoping the pirates aren’t already on top of us, I turn to look back. My eyes widen as I see Elena running straight for us, carrying someone’s body in her arms. The Fallen seem to be in pursuit, but they’re far behind and the towering form of their Kell is still near our crashed City Hawk. I can’t help but feel some relief despite the situation still being hopeless. I had thought all the Guardians were dead. “Run!” The Warlock shouts. The body in her arms moves, raising an arm over her shoulder. It’s Beledona. The Huntress levels a sidearm at the pirates, firing indiscriminately towards the hoard. At this distance I think the gunfire is meant more for intimidation than doing actual damage. Only a few Arc bolts dart past us, most missing by large margins. I grab Elta’s arm and pull her along. She groans in protest but stumbles after me. We don’t get far before a strange whooshing sound comes from behind. Elena soars straight past us, impossibly gliding through the air like a bird. She touches down ahead of us and stops. If she already caught up with us, then it probably won’t take long for the Fallen to close the distance. Elta is moving too slowly. Elena drops to a knee, laying Beladona down in the snow. The Huntress holds up a hand and Elena takes it, leaning in close to exchange words that I’m too far to hear. As I draw nearer Elena stands. Elta and I finally reach the Warlock and halt in front of her. “What-“ I pant, struggling to catch my breath. My question goes unasked when I see Beladona. The armor covering the Huntress’ right leg is scorched and damaged. There’s no way she can walk with that injury, but it’s the other wound that makes my heart sink. Her armor is rent and split from the shoulder down to her chest and splattered with blood; the handiwork of a sword. It must have been her Ghost that was destroyed earlier. “We need to keep going,” Elena mutters. She inspects us and locks eyes with Elta, “What’s wrong with you?” Elta can’t even stand up straight anymore, but answers through labored breaths, “They shot me.” “I’ll carry you,” the Warlock says, walking around Beladona, “We need to go. Now.” I‘m still watching Beladona, “What about Bela?” Elena only falters a moment before scooping up Elta and replying, “We’re leaving her.” “What?” I protest, “We can’t-“ “Shut up!” Beladona snaps. Her eyes meet mine. Tears stain her cheeks, but her face is stern and commanding. “I’m already dead. You’re leaving me or you’ll die too.” “I-“ I look to Elena, but she’s turned her head away. This was Beladona’s decision. For a moment I think to argue more, but a renewed chorus of Fallen howls stills my tongue. Instead I drop to my knees and lean over the Huntress. In this position I can’t help but be reminded of her shielding me from the Ketch with her own body. “Thank you. For saving me.” Beladona’s composure unravels a little and she uses her good arm to pull me into a brief hug. Then she pushes me away, “Go. You aren’t saved yet.”

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