If everything else going to shit wasn't enough, that goddamn dream visitor had to make a reappearance. Appealing to them. Begging for them to help save Mythris.

Outside their little cabin, the world was crumbling. They were running out of time.

And Mal was stuck laid up with a bum leg and a small host of other still-healing injuries. Two weeks offered some distance from the attack, provided enough healing he wasn't completely bedbound but…Mal wasn't an idiot. He knew he had no business walking more than the handful of steps it took to cross the room, but also decided he just didn't give a shit.

He'd already been pushing it; what harm was a little more going to do?

Besides, saving the world aside, if he stayed cooped up indoors much longer he was going to lose his fucking mind. Anything—even a painful walk through two feet of snow—was preferable to another morning watching dust settle.

When Mal heard Wisp leave the cabin, he stiffly climbed to his feet and limped his way out into the yard. Snow continued to fall in fat, heavy flakes. It piled up without warmth or sun to melt it, drifted high against the wooden walls of the structure, and threatened to drown the world in endless white.

It pissed him off, Mal realized. A spark of anger that flicked to life like a small, but stubborn flame. Mal was sick of being toyed with. Pushed around. Fuck all this stupid fucking snow, and fuck the end of the world, and double-fuck whatever shithead was behind it.

The apocalypse could kiss his ass.

Mal huffed, and continued his slow journey towards the figure pacing at the edge of the woods. Sharp pain splintered up his hind leg and crooked tail with the movement, but after a couple steps, he fell into a rhythm, and thought he could manage a longer walk. Just…maybe a slow one.

I'd ask how you're taking the news, but ah, judging by the trench you're wearing in the yard—I'm gonna guess 'not great'. As far as greetings went it wasn't the warmest, but dark humor was the best Mal had to offer. Shit's pretty fucked up, huh? A huffed exhale, followed by a wry grin. So—how 'bout a walk? Dunno if there's anything out there to find, but it beats sitting here on our asses waiting for the world to end.