Ch 8

  As Matt slipped away from view, it took only a second before the first complaint erupted. The bow-wielder glared pointedly at Eleanor as she began, “Where does he get off just walking away like that when we still have questions about the survival plan? He hasn’t even asked me about how many shots each arrow is good for—even though I followed his instructions and ended up ruining one last night.”

  Eleanor let out a heavy sigh before replying, “And I doubt he ever will.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Look, I understand your frustration, but I told you all: he isn’t one for dealing with people. Although, in his own way, he does care—it just isn’t obvious. For now, please bear with me while I figure out how best to manage him.”

  Almost too softly to be heard, Emily murmured, “I don’t think he’s the type to be managed.”

  The second staff wielder, her tone dripping with condescension, demanded, “What do you mean by that?”

  “Um, well,” Emily began hesitantly, “when I look at him, I get the feeling that he prefers doing things himself rather than explaining what he wants others to do.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Eleanor added, “I see. Perhaps he gets frustrated when others do something in a way he feels is subtly wrong—when they fail to grasp what he considers basic. If so, it might be best to simply assign him tasks and hope for the best.”

  “You can’t be serious,” snapped the bow-wielder. “All of us dislike being in groups for one reason or another. Why does he get away with—”

  “It is because we are all women,” interrupted the smaller of the two sword-wielding women. Her words fell into a hush that silenced the others, who were uncertain how to react. With modest build, brown hair, and matching eyes set against pale skin, she might have been overlooked—if not for the horizontal scars that ran up and down her arms. Though her jacket and the myriad bracelets she wore usually concealed them, each had seen the marks when she first swung her sword, and none had dared to question them. After a longer-than-necessary pause, it was Eleanor who finally broke the awkward silence once again.

  "While your wording could use some improvement, I believe you're on the right track. Matt is an outsider in more ways than we are to each other, and we need to remember that. It’s precisely why, as much as it pains me to say this, Emily, you need to avoid getting too close to him—and that applies to all of us."

  "What do you mean?" Emily asked, her voice tinged with surprise. "I barely know him."

  "Yet you’re already trying to latch onto him, and if he were truly interested, you would almost certainly allow yourself to become completely dependent on him while convincing yourself that you were in love," Eleanor explained firmly.

  "That’s an awfully bold claim," retorted the second staff wielder, her tone edged with defensiveness. "I think you’re projecting your own feelings onto the rest of us."

  "Perhaps," Eleanor countered, a subtle flush of frustration coloring her cheeks. "But I wasn’t the one who was nearly snuggling him. Look, the main reason none of us should get too close is because he will run if he feels things are becoming too intimate, and if that happens, it will tear our group apart even more."

  "Or we could let her try seducing him," the smaller sword wielder chimed in with a mischievous grin. "Maybe that would make him a bit easier to handle, as long as Emily is willing to get him to—"

  "He won’t change who he is just because one of us wants him to," interrupted the other swordswoman, clad in black yoga pants and a tight white T-shirt that accentuated her olive skin, fiery red hair, and entrancing green eyes. Her presence made the four other women feel insecure, and even Eleanor found herself longing in secret when looking at her, despite her typically standoffish nature. "None of us will change because of someone else. Change only happens when we truly desire it, and the only reason any of us would want that is to survive. So until Matt feels that change is essential for his survival, he will remain as he is, and there is nothing we can do about it."

  "We can’t know that until we try," Eleanor replied softly, her voice steady despite the tension. "Sometimes all it takes is giving someone a chance for a change—a chance for people to grow."

  "Why say what you don’t truly believe?" interrupted the second sword wielder sharply. "Really, I know you want us to hold onto hope, but what does it say when we only speak this way when he isn’t around? It means that we don’t trust him, and sooner or later, he’ll sense that. That’s why there’s no chance of things working out long term as things are. I appreciate that he’s teaching us to make rope and showing us a few other tricks that could help us survive, but I agree with him: keeping his involvement temporary is for the best."

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  "You talk about trust, but why should any of us trust anyone else here?" Emily interjected before Eleanor could respond. "I was singled out because I was ready to follow him the moment he saved us from that goblin. That’s why I trust Matt. He killed the goblins without asking for anything in return, only relenting after we pleaded for his help, and all he seeks is to leave once he’s done assisting us. I truly believe his only motive is to survive on his own terms, even if that means retreating to his isolated existence. Eleanor, you say I can’t change him, and I understand that, but isn’t it so wonderful to dream about being the one who quietly exists in his shadow and supports him when he needs it?"

  “God, you really do have it bad,” retorted the other staff wielder with a scoff. “It’s disgusting, if you ask me. Why should any of us want to live in a man’s shadow?”

  “I’d take his shadow over yours any day,” declared the first sword wielder, her tone edged with a confident sneer.

  “Ha! Why should any of us care about what a cutter thinks?” scoffed the second staff wielder, crossing her arms as if daring anyone to contest her.

  “Be careful about throwing stones,” cautioned the second sword wielder, her voice low and steady. “Especially when you’re an easy target given the way you look. Scars tell a story about one’s past, not their present, and not every mark—or the reasons behind them—is obvious. Eleanor, you still have my vote to lead us. I have no desire to be tethered, much like how Matt would so gladly abandon us all.”

  “He wouldn’t—”

  “Emily,” Eleanor interjected sharply, “she isn’t saying that he would. She’s simply pointing out that he’d prefer solitude. As I mentioned before, he cares deeply—so much so that it seems he can’t help but isolate himself. It’s a significant part of why he longs to be alone; most people don’t truly care, and those who do often feel they’re eventually taken for granted.”

  “What would you know about that?” snapped the second staff wielder, her eyes flashing with resentment. “From what you told us, you lived in luxury and ordered others around.”

  “That’s merely running a business,” replied Eleanor evenly. “The ones who care make the best employees when kept happy—but they’re the first to burn out when forced to tolerate indifference.”

  “And just how do you manage to keep them happy?” The second staff wielder’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she leaned forward.

  “By ensuring they work in teams of like-minded people, those who care, and keeping indifferent outsiders at a safe distance.”

  “If he cares so much, why did he dodge my question, which showed that I care?” pressed the bow wielder, her face drawn into a frustrated grimace.

  “He retreated from the world for the most part—based on what we know, he burned out so completely that he likely assumes—”

  “I think you’re overthinking things,” stated the second sword wielder with a dismissive tilt of her head. “Some of us just never fit into the world and look for ways to avoid it. You lived in wealth but seemed to despise your peers, leaving you with no one to truly call a friend. So you retreated into your business, where no one dared get close enough to be called your friend, because you were simply too superior. I’d even wager that you were avoiding an annoying entitled brat trying to force you into becoming their woman.”

  “You really shouldn’t expect all the lives of the rich to resemble those splashed across the headlines,” retorted Eleanor sharply. “Since it seems necessary to share some of my past to put everyone’s mind at ease, I will. I was the only child of a remarkably successful businessman who built a company valued at well over a billion dollars. I never attended a formal school; instead, my mother devoted every day to teaching me until I turned 12, after which my father assumed responsibility. This meant that every day I accompanied him to work, absorbing every aspect of his enterprise. I recall hiring my first employee at 13 and firing someone at 14—that was the moment I realized that true friendship might forever elude me.

  “You might argue that it hardly matters when I possess the freedom to do virtually anything with our family fortune, but my father imposed one strict rule: under no circumstances could anyone learn of our wealth. I remained oblivious to our true financial situation until after I turned 21, having always believed that we were merely scraping by. In hindsight, I can now see the subtle clues that would have made the truth obvious, but my entire life had been meticulously orchestrated, leaving me without a proper frame of reference. I had never even seen a movie beyond carefully selected documentaries until my parents allowed me access to more extensive options after my 21st birthday.”

  “What the fuck,” growled the second staff wielder, her voice thick with disbelief. “How the hell are you meant to lead anyone when you barely know anything—?”

  “Do you even listen?” interjected the bow wielder sharply. “She said had never not have never

  —she’s corrected such mishaps by now, I’m sure.”

  “Not completely,” Eleanor conceded, her tone measured yet resolute. “But I feel I have come far enough to serve as a leader in this situation, for one simple reason: I am willing to take charge—unless one of you would rather try.”

  The other five women fell silent, exchanging uncertain and cautious glances, as Eleanor paused for a moment of reflection before continuing.

  “If I’m being honest, I fear that those both willing and capable of leading are in short supply, and those who should lead might simply refuse the role. After all, had all 12 of us remained together, Matt might have emerged as the ideal leader—if only he could overcome his compulsion to isolate himself. Instead, the six of us must maximize the advantage of having him around while we can, for I suspect that sooner or later, he will seek a way to extricate himself safely from our midst. Even now, I’m almost convinced that his plan is to return only when he brings with him the means for us to kill, once he deems himself unable to win the fight on his own.”