Bleed on those that did not cut you

It had been the driving spring rain that had chased Modesty underground, deep coughs being ripped from her chest until she left a smattering of blood in her wake. Her throat was red and raw, and if she didn't get dry soon, she might just catch her death. It had been foolish to leave her brother's home, but she would be damned if she was going to sit around and wait for Gilgamesh to come to her. Feelings weren't suppressible, and if he'd already allowed himself to fall for the other woman, then there was nothing she could do to change it. As far as she was concerned, he had made his choice, and now he would have to live with the consequences.

Even in the cover of the mine's entrance, a wicked wind still whipped through the tunnels. She retreated deeper underground, hoping to escape its biting chill. She found herself a nook where it seemed more sheltered than the rest and lit a small fire to try and get some warmth back into her bones.

The flames flickered weakly, casting sporadic light on the rough-hewn walls of the mine. Modesty huddled close to the meager warmth, her soaked fur clinging to her body like a second skin. Each shiver that wracked her frame echoed the unease within her. The echoes of her deep coughs reverberated through the narrow passages, the sound bouncing off the walls and reminding her that she probably shouldn't have left her room in the first place.

She settled down, allowing herself to try and get some sleep. If the weather wasn't going to let up any time soon, she might as well stay put. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was looking for her. When she awoke, the fire had dropped to mere embers, and the darkness of her surroundings felt suffocating. She didn't have her daughter's glow to lead her way. This was going to prove to be a challenge, but she was nothing if not horribly stubborn. Hauling herself up and shaking the mine dust from her fur, she set out.

The intertwining tunnels of the mine proved more confusing than she anticipated. The damp air clung to her like a spectral haze, weighing down her still-damp fur and making every breath a struggle. The echoes of her pawsteps melded with the distant drips of water, creating a disorienting symphony that played tricks on her weary mind. Her wracking coughs only added to the confusion, bouncing off passageways she couldn't quite make out with her eyes alone.

In her pursuit of the elusive warmth and the guiding light of what she hoped was the setting sun, Modesty stumbled upon an intersecting passage. She would have to find some way to mark it, or she might find herself trapped in a circle until her final breath. The tunnels stretched out like a web, threatening to ensnare her in a labyrinth of uncertainty. Her sickly pallor and the dimness of the mine conspired to blur the distinction between dream and reality. Was that a fever settling in? Or had the air suddenly become warmer?

The emotional turmoil she carried within seemed to amplify the challenge of navigating the mine. She kept getting distracted, listing off all the reasons she hated Gilgamesh to offset the ones that popped up to remind her why she loved him in the first place. Each junction became a metaphorical crossroads, a reflection of the choices she had made in her life up to this point and the path she had chosen. The mine, once a refuge from the tempest above, now mirrored the tempest within her soul.

As she moved deeper into the labyrinth, the sound of dripping water became a haunting reminder of her own vulnerability. The cold tendrils of fear clawed at her resolve, threatening to pull her into the abyss of despair. Yet, the distant hope of finding an exit fueled her determination to press on, to escape not only the mine's oppressive grip but also the emotional entanglements that had driven her underground.

The tunnels seemed to coil around her like a living entity, testing her resolve and challenging her ability to distinguish reality from the shadows. The intermittent glow of something distant guided her, but the path remained fraught with uncertainty—sometimes up, sometimes down. Each turn she took became a leap of faith, a gamble on the hope that the next corner would reveal the elusive exit.

As Modesty continued her journey through the depths of the mine, the emotional weight she carried began to merge with the physical strain of her sickness. Every step became a struggle, and the air grew thicker, making it harder to draw breath. Yet, she pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to escape the confines of both the mine and the emotional labyrinth that threatened to consume her.

Then, she heard it—the distant sound of birds. Relief washed over her as she used the sound to guide her around the next bend and then another. When she finally emerged, she realized the sun had long since set. So, what was that light that had glowed in the distance while she had been down there? A shiver ran down her spine—a consideration for another day.

“Speech.”