Chapter 9 Chapter 8

They were safe at last when they crossed the threshold of the hut, and Dylan remembered that moment very well, for the din of noise stopped immediately.Tristan slammed the door shut and let her stand up, as if he'd burned him by holding her.She stood there, mouth gaping in fear, while he walked to the window and looked out. The hut was like the one of the previous night, and had no furnishings.There was a bench against the back wall, and Dylan stumbled across it and sat down on the rough wooden stool with his head in his hands.Fear spread quickly through the blood vessels of her whole body, her heartbeat fluctuated from time to time, and she tried her best to control it, sobbing tears slipped from between her fingers.Tristan glanced back at her with an unfathomable expression on his face, but he still hadn't left the "lookout" by the window, and she moved her hands away from her face and checked her arms.Although the room was very dark, she could still see the criss-cross scratches on her skin.Some were just scrapes, while others were gouged so deep into the flesh that blood was oozing from the wound.The skin all over her body was burning with pain.However, the adrenaline rushing through her body made her hands tremble, and she could barely feel the pain.

The cottage also has a fireplace.After a few minutes, Tristan walked over and bent over the fireplace.There was no firewood, and Dylan didn't hear the sound of a match being struck, but soon there was a fire in the fireplace.In the flickering firelight, terrifying black shadows flashed on the wall, adding some eerie atmosphere to the cabin. Although there is no plausible explanation for how the fire started, Dylan doesn't question the sudden fire.She has too many more important and incredible ideas.These thoughts are entangled in her mind, and you fight for each other, and you won't give in to each other.These thoughts were provoking trouble in the depths of her consciousness, fighting with each other, struggling to get out, demanding to be heard.She had so many questions that she didn't know where to start.

They stayed like this for a long time.Tristan stood by the window like a sculpture, with a calm expression.Dylan curled up in a chair, occasionally weeping silently, and panting quietly, a side effect of the adrenaline rush just now.It was silent outside.Whatever those things were just now, they're receding now. Finally, Dylan looked up, "Tristan." He didn't look at her, as if he was still preparing to deal with something. "Tristan, look at me." Dylan waited, and finally he turned his head slowly and reluctantly. "What's that?" She tried to keep her voice calm, but just cried, saying His voice was still hoarse when he spoke, and his blue eyes were already full of tears, but he still stared at him, hoping that he would be honest with him.Whatever those things were, Tristan recognized them.He'd been muttering to himself, "They're around here." He knew what was going to happen when she let go of his hand.How did he know?What else is he hiding from her?

Tristan sighed.He knew this moment would come sooner or later, but still hoped it could be delayed as long as possible.But the little tricks played at the party can't be concealed.Dylan saw those things and felt them firsthand.It is impossible to describe them as wild animal prevarication.He can only treat her honestly.He didn't know where to start, explain it all in a way she understood, and he didn't know if telling her the truth would minimize her pain. He reluctantly crossed the room and sat on the stool next to her.He didn't look at her, but stared at his intertwined fingers, as if hoping to find the answer from there.

If he couldn't hide it and had to tell the truth, he never blurted it straight out.He told himself that short-term pain is worse than long-term pain. But actually doing it because he just doesn't care.Whether they wept, whimpered, pleaded or bargained with him, nothing changed.He was there silently, indifferently, waiting for them to accept their fate.Then the two of them will continue walking with a tacit understanding.But this time... this time he didn't want to do it. They were so close that he could feel her breath on his face.He turned his head and stared at those blue eyes.That gorgeous dark green reminded him of woods and nature, and made his stomach cramp and his chest tighten.He doesn't want to hurt her.He didn't know why he was like this, but he had a desire to protect this person, a desire stronger than anyone else.

"Dylan, I haven't been telling you the truth," he said anyway. He saw her pupils dilate slightly, but there was no other reaction.He suddenly realized that she already knew.She just didn't know what he was hiding from her. "I wasn't on that train." He paused, trying to figure out her reaction.He expected her to interrupt him with a barrage of questions, a barrage of pleas and accusations, but she just waited, motionless as a rock.Her eyes were full of fear and confusion.She was terrified of what he might say, but determined to listen. "I was..." Tristan's voice trembled and stopped again.

How should I say it? "I was waiting for you." He was slightly relieved that she drew her eyebrows into a pile in bewilderment, but said nothing.Tristan seemed to find it easier to speak when he couldn't hear her voice.But he hurt her feelings by not looking at her when he didn't want to talk. "Dylan, you weren't the only survivor of the accident." His voice was almost a whisper, as if softening the sound would lessen the blow to her. "You were the only one who didn't escape." The words are clear, but they just seem to float in Dylan's mind without forming any meaning.She forced her eyes away from Tristan, as if to process what he had said, and focused only on a broken tile on the floor.

Tristan shifted nervously around her, waiting for her reaction.A full minute passed, and then another minute passed.She was motionless, only the quivering of her lips kept her from looking like a statue. "I'm sorry, Dylan," he added.This sentence was said very sincerely, and it was not added after thinking of it on the spur of the moment.Although he didn't know what was going on, he just didn't want to make her sad.He really wanted to take back what he said just now, but it was hard to undo it, and the matter was irreversible.He has no magic power to change all this, and even if he could, it would be wrong to do so, and it is not his turn to act as creator.He noticed that her eyes blinked twice, and watched her slowly understand.Now she may lose control of her emotions at any time.He could hardly breathe, and waited in fear.He is afraid of her tears.

Turns out she surprised him. "Am I dead?" she asked finally. He nodded, not daring to let himself speak.He expected her to vent all his pain, so he stretched out his arms to her, trying to comfort her. However, she was surprisingly calm.She nodded, sighed softly, and then smiled lightly. "I think, maybe somewhere in the dark, I already know." No, I wasn't quite right, Dylan thought.She didn't know it before...but somewhere deep down, her subconscious mind was keeping tabs on everything that wasn't right, everything that didn't make sense. These things are too weird and weird to be like real life at all.

When she finally admitted the truth, she felt that there was nothing to be afraid of, and she felt relieved, although even she couldn't explain why. She thought that she would never see Joan and Katie again, never see her father again, enjoy the family happiness they were supposed to have, never enter the workplace, marry and have children.She felt sad and heavy, but a sense of inner peace overshadowed her sad thoughts.If all this was true, and she had already foreseen this, then the deal was done and could not be changed.She's still here, she's still her, so it's a blessing.

"Where am I now?" she asked quietly. "The Badlands," Tristan replied.She looked up at her, waiting for him to say, "It's in the middle of two worlds, and you have to go through it. Everyone has to go through their own wasteland. Discover the truth of your dead in this place, and then reluctantly accepted." "Where are those things?" Dylan pointed out the window, "What are they?" Although the noise had subsided, Dylan was sure the strange creatures hadn't left.They're just lurking, waiting for an opportunity to attack. "Devils, I think you'd call them that. Scavengers, goblins. They'll try to catch a lonely soul crossing the road. The closer they get to the other side of the world, the more desperate they become, and their attacks become more and more desperate." It's going to get crazier." "What are they after us for?" Her voice was not much louder than a whisper. Tristan shrugged, unwilling to answer. "Tell me," she begged.Knowing this and being prepared is important.She doesn't want to be kept in the dark anymore. Tristan sighed and said, "They haven't caught you yet. Once they catch you, they will drag you underwater. Once they are caught, we will never see you again." "What will happen once it's underwater?" Dylan raised his eyebrows puzzled. "I don't know very well either." Tristan replied calmly.She grimaced, dissatisfied with the answer, but she could sense that Tristan wasn't coaxing her this time, "But when they're done, you'll be one of them—sinister, hungry." , a crazy black smoke demon." Dylan stared into the air, horrified at the thought of turning into those things.Screaming, desperate, brutal.These things are really disgusting. "Are we safe here?" "Safe," Tristan replied immediately.He tried to comfort her as best he could, "These houses are safe houses, they can't get in." She accepted his words calmly, but he knew that she must have more questions and wanted to know more truths.He would tell her all he could tell her.At least she should know this. "And you?" She only said two words, but there were a thousand questions lurking behind them.Who is he?What does he do for a living?What is his identity in this world?Etc., etc.He couldn't answer most of the questions, and in fact he couldn't explain all the answers clearly.But there were things he could tell her, and she had a right to know. "I'm a ferryman." He said.He had been staring at his hands just now, but would sneak a glance at her face.There was only curiosity on her face.Relieved, he continued, "I guide the spirits through the wasteland, and protect them from the demons. I tell them the truth, and send them where they are going." "Where is that?" Here comes the key question, "I don't know." He smiled wryly, "I've never been there before." She seemed to be in disbelief at this answer, "But how do you know you've reached your destination? Did you just leave the person behind? You know, this is the gate of hell!" He nodded intently, but his answer was indisputable, "I just know." She pouted, as if the answer didn't convince her at all, but she didn't dwell on the issue.Tristan heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't want to lie to her, but there were some things he wasn't allowed to tell others. "How many people have been guided by you..." Dylan paused, not knowing how to phrase it, "Guided?" He looked up, this time his eyes were really sad, "I really can't tell you. Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. I've been doing this for a long time." "How old are you?" Dylan asked. He can answer this question, but he doesn't want to say it.He had a premonition that if she knew the truth, if she knew how long she had stayed here—not studying, not growing up, not experiencing human life, just living like this—then the delicate relationship between them would also be important. will end immediately.She would see herself as an old man, an odd outlier.He realized he didn't want that, so he decided to make a joke. "How old do you think I am?" He held out his arm for her to examine. "Sixteen," she said, "but you can't be that old. Is that what you were when you died? Won't you grow old?" "Strictly speaking, I've never lived," he replied, with a look of melancholy in his eyes.However, soon, that ray of worry was replaced by a guarded expression.He's already said things he shouldn't have said.Fortunately, she seemed to understand this from his expression, and didn't ask any more questions. Looking around, Dylan took a closer look at his surroundings for the first time.The cabin was one long room, the furniture of which did not match it at all, and which had been badly damaged by long neglect.But compared to last night's hut, the house was in pretty good shape.The doors and windows were all intact, and the fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, and the room was warm.Next to the bench where Dylan and Tristan were sitting was an old bed with no blankets, just a mattress.Although the bed looked out of date and stained, at this moment it looked inviting.There is also a kitchen table and sink at the other end of the room. She stood up stiffly - she had sat on the stool for a long time without knowing it - and walked across the room to the kitchenette.She felt dirty and uncomfortable and wanted to wash her hands, but the sink looked old and hadn't been used for many, many years.It's not optimistic to look at it up close. There are rust spots on the two faucets.She grabbed one and twisted it, but when no water came out, she tried the other one.The faucet was also rusted, and she tightened her hand, feeling the tip of the faucet slowly poking into her palm.She felt something began to flow out, so she hoped to be cute again, and squeezed and twisted a little more.With a muffled clang, the entire upper part of the faucet was snapped off and held in her hand, the rust had already made the metal fragile. "Oh." She turned around and looked at Tristan with a wry face, showing him the half of the dragon's head. He grinned at her, then shrugged, "Don't worry, that faucet has been broken for years." Dylan nodded, feeling a lot less guilty, and threw the piece of scrap metal into the sink.She turned and walked quickly to the bed.She felt Tristan looking at her.She twisted and sat on the cushion, noticing his examining gaze. "What's wrong?" she asked with a slight smile.Now that the truth had been revealed, it was strange that she felt much more at ease with him.It was as if the secret was a wedge keeping her out of the cold wind. He couldn't help but also smiled at her, "I'm just surprised by your reaction, that's all. You didn't shed a single tear." His voice became smaller and smaller, and his smile also subsided. Sadness appeared again. "What's the use of crying?" she asked, with the wisdom of a seasoned adult in her tone.She sighed, "I'm going to bed." "You're safe here, and I'll watch over you." She did feel reassured, knowing that he was here, alert day and night.her protector. "I'm glad it was you," she muttered under her breath as tiredness hit her. Tristan looked puzzled, not sure what she meant, but he was glad to hear her say it.He watched her fall asleep for a long time, watching the flickering firelight swaying on her face.Her face was surprisingly calm unconsciously.A strange longing suddenly sprang up in his heart, wanting to touch her, sliding his fingers slowly down her smooth cheeks, helping her brush aside the hair that covered her eyes.But he didn't get up from where he sat.He told himself that he only felt this way because she was young and petite.He was her guide, her temporary protector, and nothing else. That night, Dylan had the dream again.Although encountering demons would provide enough material for a nightmare, the devil was not the main character of her dreams.She dreamed of Tristan. They were not in the wasteland in the dream, but it was very strange that Dylan had a feeling of déjà vu.They were in a grove of tall oaks, gnarled and weather-beaten, with overgrown, overlapping branches that hung high above them like a canopy.Although it was night, the moonlight leaked through the gaps in the trees, the leaves swayed with the wind, and the shadows of the trees were mottled like ripples.The breeze blew her long hair, and her neck and shoulders were numb.The road under their feet was covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves, and some places must have been rained recently, and the air smelled faintly of damp and nature.She could hear the gurgling sound of running water somewhere on her left, which was so delicate and graceful. In the dream, Tristan took her hand and walked slowly through the trees.They did not take the ready-made road, but chose a winding path that led to nowhere.Where she was touched by his hand, her skin felt like it was on fire.But she was even more afraid that he would let go and pull her fingers out of his palm. Neither of them spoke, but Dylan didn't feel uncomfortable.They are already satisfied with cuddling each other, and any words at this time will destroy the beauty of this good time, which is peaceful. In the cabin, Tristan saw her smile as she fell asleep.