Abigail

11 - Abigail's Story Ends (and Begins)

"What are you doing!" Laz said, a new terror alighting in his eyes.

"I won't leave him again!" she called, turning on her heel.

"No! What are you doing? Abigail!"

She ignored him, sprinting into the falling rock.

"ABBY!"

Xander, she thought helplessly. Oh God, please no.

He was gone, he had to be gone. There was no way he could have made it through this maze, no way he could beat the collapse, no way he could have survived against Nefarious with his 299 knacks.

He had taken a chance on her, taught her, led them through forest, laughed with them over fire. She had given up on him after a stray comment by a bard in a pub. Her chest tightened with guilt. What have I done?

Every story ends in death.

The rocks were falling from above as if the walls themselves were caving in on her. All she could do was trust her feet, one step at a time, believing with all her being that doing the right thing would be all right in the end.

She coughed. The dust was thick, the enemy was in disarray.

And there, battered and bruised and nearly fallen, was Xander.

"Abigail?" he coughed. His side was bleeding.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, but he was slow, so slow to move. They were both coughing now—too much. They ran for what seemed like forever, past enemy bodies and darting around blocks.

There! The light of the tunnel just as the last of it collapsed behind them. Xander coughed weakly, holding his side wet with blood and water. Laz pulled him up, and Abigail after.

They were safe. The cheers went up.

Laz placed a hand on her shoulder as they looked out at the scene. These forty men—warriors, husbands, brothers, fathers—and she and her brother: and all was silent. No words were spoken for none needed to be.

"Nefarious?" Abigail said, looking at Xander questioningly.

"He won't be bothering us anymore," the old man responded, a small smile lighting his face.

"You saved us all." Abigail shook her head in disbelief. "Again."

The light filtered through the clouds, Helvete's sky turning with the pinks of sunset before them.

"No, Abigail," he said. "You saved us all."

"I suppose I did get to help," she said with a small smile. She did not blush, though if she'd heard the words a month ago, she would have.

Here I am, she thought. A little older, a little more tired, a little more aware of all the ways I am unsure.

"It appears," Ethan the Strong said, clearing his throat and sounding nervous, "that I have quite a lot to hear about my daughter."

She smiled a little. Daughter. The journey back to Nowhere had begun, and what a journey it would be.

And, I suppose, dear reader, that is the end of the story. Like all stories, it is up to them to make it a happy one.