☑ THE SHADOW | Peter Maximoff

t w e n t y

~ 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 ~

Amara used her power to cut open the skin and determine whether the meat had been cooked through, and after getting over the slight queasiness in her stomach, she and Peter clinked their little pieces of meat and tried it together.

The meat was tougher than she expected. But it had little flavor, and all in all, it was food, meaning that after getting over the shock they were eating a squirrel, both she and Peter completely devoured the animal in their hands.

Never did she think that one of her days would come to this. And yet, there she was. Licking the bones dry to get any sort of substance she could to fill her stomach before she moved on to the next part.

At the sound of Peter chuckling, she glanced up with curiosity.

"No, it's just..." He smiled. "There was this one scene in Gremlins where a whole group of them are tearing through a bowl of chicken wings, and I kinda feel like that right now."

Amara didn't say anything as she watched him laugh quietly to himself, and she swallowed her bite, letting her eyes trail over his face. It was bad. There was a large gash on the side of his nose with dried, crusted blood caked onto it amongst plenty of other scratches, cuts, and bruises littering his skin.

His eyes were still bloodshot, his lips were chapped and bloody, and his stubble was seriously beginning to show through on his cheeks.

She could feel guilt creep up in her body. Here she was, a healing mutant letting her body heal itself while he had to trek around a never ending forest with a completely abused meatsuit.

But she was worried. Extremely worried. It wasn't a good idea for her to heal Peter - it wasn't a good one at all. It went horribly last time. It could go horribly this time. Maybe even worse.

And yet, when she watched him smile and toss one of the bones into the fire, her stomach clenched with guilt. No, not guilt. She had to be practical about this.

If Peter died because of an infection, she was never going to get home. She wasn't going to heal him because she was guilty. She was healing him because she needed him alive. That's it. Nothing else.

Amara nodded to herself silently. All she had to do was ignore It. She could do that. That's all she had to do.

She threw the skin of her finished squirrel into the fire.

Her body ached when she turned to face him, but she ignored that, too. Sure, she was still sore, and many of the deeper wounds still weren't fully healed, but she had enough energy to help him. He clearly needed it.

Without a word, Amara scooted closer to him and raised her hands. She ignored the confused (and kind of... cute? No. Not cute.) expression on his face as he looked at her face.

"What are you doing?" he whispered under his breath, though his expression was still soft when she cupped his cheeks.

"I'm helping you, too," she answered simply, finally gathering the courage to look in his eyes.

Peter shook his head. "Ames-"

"It's okay."

She knew he was thinking about it. The day that she ran away from him when she tried to help him. But she was better. She was stronger. She could do this.

His eyes told her he was wary. He was nervous. She knew he had every right to be, but she didn't want him to be nervous. She wasn't going to hurt him, and he had to know that. Her hand slid to the nape of his neck before she could tell herself not to, and her fingers twirled the delicate strands.