MQ: When Blood Runs Cold

[Christoph]

“No, you don’t have any idea what it’s like!” Chris replied in a shout, standing up after Elijah. He clenched his fists, not wanting to accept what he was hearing. “My mother was the only family I had! She’s dead now, and the entire life that I’d been trying to return to for the past six months is gone. Don’t you get it, Elijah? I’ve only known two types of lives: the one I’d left in my hometown and the life of trials, travel, and violence. I’ve got nothing left besides that second life, and the man who did all this to me is still out there, terrorizing other innocent people as we speak. After all we’ve been through, how can you abandon me now?”

"Abandon?" The denim-clad man stopped in his tracks. "Let me tell you something about abandonment." Elijah swiftly turned on his heel and walked up to the chef, his tear-streaked face red with anger. "As far back as I can remember, my parents treated me like shit. I was kept at a point where I was barely alive--I was rarely fed, always cold, and so, so, very lonely. Then, the fuckers dumped me off on an aunt and uncle when they grew tired of me. And let me tell you, what they did was only worse. Then, they'd pass me on to the next branch of the family tree when they were done. It was like that until I ran away from the entire fucking lot of them."

He stood tense, his fists clenched, his once strong voice breaking down. "You, on the other hand... You at least had someone who cared about you. You had a family. You've known what it feels like to be loved by someone else. Yeah, I know you lost that family, and I am sorry as all fuck that it had to be under these circumstances. I can understand how pissed off you are." Elijah paused for a moment. "But killing in vengeance won't make anything right. Your mom will still be dead, joined in the earth by either Malachai and yourself." The ice-crafter slowly turned around and resumed his path. "Chris, man, you're the closest thing to a friend I've ever had. It'd tear me apart to see you die. That's why I can't be a part of this."

Christopher's glare intensified until his eyes burned like demonic embers. "And after all the times you've been abandoned during a time of need, you'd do the same damn thing to someone you'd call a friend?"

Elijah threw up in hands in frustration. "So I'm a fucking hypocrite, but at least I'll still be alive."

"Just go. Get out of my sight!"

“I’m sorry.” And then he was gone, vanishing into the snowy brush and branches, leaving an empty silence in his wake. Chris had never felt so cold in his entire life. He slammed his fist against a frost-covered tree trunk, letting out a cry that blurred the line between anger and anguish.

“It’s time to go,” he said at last, composing himself and forcing the image of his friend’s back fading into the forest from his mind. The time had come to take charge and do what he’d vowed to do. Malachi was still out there, alive and well. Chris would remedy that. “I want to get as far as possible with the daylight we have.”

Without waiting for any word of confirmation from the other two, the chef started taking down the tent and packing up the camp with cold efficiency. He didn’t even notice the stinging chill of the snow between his fingers. Elijah was gone and was never coming back. It didn’t matter. All that did was getting on the road and finding Malachi before he was lost forever as well. He stood, all of his belongings strapped to his back. With a huge effort, he kicked the woman's massive sword out from under a large pile of snow by the fire circle where he'd hidden it the night before.

“The Sway caravan headed down the southern road,” he said. “So either they’re taking the long way to Knife’s Edge, or they’re going to the border with Alerar. All I know is that I want to catch then before they reach either destination.” He turned and started for the rocky road. “If either of you really want to follow me, I’m leaving now.”