The Hunter led the pirates on a merry chase through the woods, though the only one who felt merry at any given point was him. He saw her fly halfway through the chase, and knew that the Brother had been successful. He knew what to do next, and put on a burst of speed that carried him well ahead of the pirates. All it took after that was finding a secluded spot beneath an old, fallen log, where he wedged himself in tight and lay unmoving as they charged past him and over him, never thinking to look down or around as they sped away into the growing darkness of the trees. He knew it wasn't a nice thought, but for a moment he hoped that the dark things that lived in the trees would get them all, one at a time, until there was nothing left but scraps.<br/><br/>Once he was sure they were gone he turned and cut through the trees again, back toward the pirate's camp. He crept through the brush right to the edge, where he peered down at the ships collected around the dock. He could see Hooke's ship there, the clean white sails only just beginning to unfurl. Some of the pirates were back--the ones who had been chasing the Sister, if he had it right, but he didn't see any sign of her. Not her or the Brother, for that matter. For some reason it didn't seem right to him, that they weren't there, when they had been so prevalent before. Shouldn't they have met back here? And shouldn't the sails have gone up in flames? He hadn't questioned the Brother when he said he'd do it, even if the sails were soaking wet canvas thanks to the rain, but had he been thwarted so readily?<br/><br/>No, none of this felt right at all. The Hunter scowled to himself and slipped back into the woods, his feet carrying him to the tree that all of the siblings called home. The Lost Ones, he called them in his privacy, in their Lost Tree here in a lost world. He had sworn to see all three of them to safety, somehow. In retrospect that promise seemed very foolish, indeed. How could he hope to sneak them away past Hooke? And yet he had promised, and so he must find a way. What was the impossible, after all, if not a challenge for the skilled.<br/><br/>On his way back he passed the spot where the Cleaner had fallen and been slain. The body was gone. That only seemed right. Nonbelievers had no place here in this lost realm.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr"/><br/>Chris did not leave.<br/><br/>He stayed where he was until it was late, using a cleared trolley to pore over all his research into the types of injuries that had sent Erin into her coma. His tablet was set up, too, so he could send emails to any specialists whose names came up, asking them for advice or guidance. He knew he had begun to reach the end of a very finite list of men and women, but he'd written down every single name and their contact information. If he had to, he would resort to phone calls to try and get the answer he needed.<br/><br/>It had to be out there. He couldn't afford to tell himself anything else. There had to be a treatment, a surgery, a procedure that he hadn't heard of that someone had pioneered or thought of. It was to the degree that he was willing to entertain even experimental ideas, even bizarre Eastern concepts involving incense and abstract thought. Chris hated to admit it to himself--he preferred<i>driven</i>or<i>stubborn</i>or<i>hopeful</i>--but he knew he was sliding toward desperation, slowly but surely.<br/><br/>Sleep took him before he could properly process it, and he awoke some six hours later to a very nearly dead tablet. The email form he'd been working on had dissolved into a long string of 'j', as many as could be typed when one held down a key for at least six hours. He swore under his breath and closed the email, though it saved as a draft that he was sure he should never risk opening. He shut the device off and set it aside on the trolley, then looked over at Erin as he blinked the grogginess out of his system. "Morning," he murmured to her. "Oh, stop that. You know I hate the silent treatment. If you woke up in the night and decided to just go back to sleep, I won't blame you, but I need to know." He waited for a response that never came.<br/><br/>Not desperate, he reminded himself. Driven. Stubborn. Hopeful.<br/><br/>He got up and forced himself to visit the cafeteria, where he helped himself to a stiff cup of black coffee and a couple of cold pancakes. He was halfway through the second and considering the sausage that one of the cooks had just put out when his phone rang. He dug it one-handed out of his pocket and answered without checking the ID, too tired to care. "Doctor Tool."<br/><br/><i>"Tool-man."</i><br/><br/>"Ryan! Hey, kid. Kinda early for you to be calling, isn't it? Thought you'd be sleeping in."<br/><br/><i>"Yeah, well... that's the thing, man. I've got kind-of-bad news."</i><br/><br/>Chris felt his heart sink. "Okay. How bad? One to ten."<br/><br/><i>"Where ten's the worst? Like... a seven."<br/>
</i><br/>"So you're not in a coma," Chris said dryly.<br/><br/><i>"Not that I know of. No, it's... I wanted to bring it up yesterday, but seeing you and Sarah and Erin and everything... I couldn't, man. I just couldn't. I feel crappy doing it this way, but I ran out of time. I can't even make it to the hospital right now."<br/>
</i><br/>"Ryan, talk to me. What's going on?"<br/><br/><i>"Classes start again tomorrow. I'm flying back to California today. I board my plane in about twenty minutes."<br/>
</i><br/>It took every ounce of effort Chris had to not utter some sort of dirty oath and question Ryan's timing. Classes? He was going back to<i>school</i>when Erin was in a coma? Even as he processed his frustration, though, he saw the logic in it. Ryan had a life. Goals. A plan. His sister getting into a wreck hadn't been in that plan, but he couldn't just put his entire life on hold because of it. He couldn't stop in place... even if Chris himself had. He must have been quiet for too long, because Ryan's voice came again, small and meek.<br/><br/><i>"Am I a coward, Tool-man?"<br/>
</i><br/>"No. No, Ryan, you're not a coward." He cleared his throat a little. "No, actually, I bet Erin would be pissed if you skipped out on your classes just because of this. When she wakes up she's going to be glad you kept to your responsibilities."<br/><br/><i>"She won't be mad?"<br/>
</i><br/>"She'd be a lot more mad if you flunked out, kid. Leave it with me and Sarah, okay? By the time you come back she'll be up and roaring. Just keep your grades up, okay? She's gonna need help paying off these medical bills, some brainiac college kid brother would be awesome for her."<br/><br/><i>"Heh. Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She'd kick my ass if I stayed. So would you."<br/>
</i><br/>"God damn straight."<br/><br/><i>"Okay. Alright... thanks, Chris. Tell Erin I'm sorry."<br/>
</i><br/>"I'll tell her, but you know what she'll say. Just go try and have fun, alright? I'll call as soon as she wakes up. SHE'LL call as soon as she wakes up."<br/><br/><i>"I'mma hold you to that. Shit, they're calling--okay, I gotta go. See you later, Chris."<br/>
</i><br/>"Yeah. Later, man." He looked down at the phone as the line went dead, then threw it onto the table next to his half-eaten pancake. He knew it was reasonable, right, even healthy, but he couldn't help feeling like somehow Ryan had abandoned him and his sister. Chris stood and pocketed his phone, then threw away the rest of the pancake. He drank the rest of the coffee, too, and threw away the cup before he headed back to her room, reinvigorated to find a solution. He<i>should</i>be checking in on his other patients, but they could wait. Just one hour more.