Aeylira and Benethin

Havermouth, Present Time

The smoke was so thick that Rhett’s eyes wept constantly as he scanned the shifting shadows that it created, hoping to find Aislen. Heath gripped onto the waistband of Rhett’s jeans so that they weren’t separated by the smoke and the drag against Rhett’s hips was both reassuring and annoying. Neither of them called out for Aislen. They had quickly agreed that walking through the smoke calling out her name would just bring danger to them all, and so, instead, Heath focused on calling out mentally whilst Rhett searched visibly.

Searching visibly was less about finding Aislen than about making sure they didn’t accidentally walk into the waiting arms of a zombie, fall over a corpse, or receive the pointy end of a Mer weapon. Rhett was losing count of his narrow misses.

Heath was starting to cough. He was trying to smother it, seeking not to draw attention to them, but it was persistent. Rhett had to admit that his own lungs were protesting, and he hadn’t reached fo