Ferra awoke in the later afternoon wrapped warmly in a blanket. She felt a warm, wet cloth on her head as well. She didn't dare open her eyes and spoil this paradise. If she could just get Torr to bring her to the dining hall, it'd be the perfect morning.

She gave a tiny yawn and muttered, "Torr, wakey time."

"Oh, you're finally awake," that was not Torr.

Ferra sprang to her feet, stumbling and flailing a bit due to the blanket. She crouched on all fours like a wild cat ready to pounce; she even growled.

Not-Torr jumped back at the sudden movement but recovered quickly. "My, you're energetic, child. But you really should lay down a bit longer." Not-Torr was a small, blonde woman, and she had a strange accent to her; she was nothing like Torr. Not-Torr made to approach Ferra.

Ferra shouted loudly as though she were roaring and flicked her wrists, which should have opened her bladed gauntlets, but they were not there. Ferra looked at her bare arms and just noticed her current wardrobe. The Not-Torr had put some weird, colorful clothes on her. It was a shirt, pants, and even footwear all in one, and Ferra didn't like it.

"Now, child, you should really calm down," insisted Not-Torr as Ferra tried to rip off the clothing. "You need to rest, you're sick." She grabbed Ferra's wrists lightly.

Ferra turned her ferocity to Not-Torr and the woman had to grab the little kutter's shoulders to avoid having her nose bitten off.

In between snaps, Ferra shouted at the woman: "Where Torr?" Where Ferra?" "Who you?"

"Listen!" the woman suddenly snapped, it startled Ferra enough to make her cease her tantrum. "Listen, sugar, you're safe. My name is Jessy, and you're in my house." She smiled at Ferra, a kind, motherly smile.

Ferra looked at the woman and recalled last night's events. She could only remember so much, but she recalled falling, cold, Torr, bad doggies, a struggle, more cold, then warmth. A horrible thought crossed her mind, so horrible she crumbled to the bed at the mere thought.

"Where Torr?" Ferra asked with tears in her eyes.

Torr didn't wait long before shoving the cabin door open. He knew the situation was dire and he was never what you would call a gentleman to begin with.

Charging into the cabin revealed a few rooms, one of which contained a couch with blankets piled on it. He made a beeline for the couch and furiously wrapped Ferra in blankets. When Ferra was thoroughly swarmed in covers, Torr ran off to find more.

The behemoth was all but ripping the doors off the hinges in his search, and, needless to say, he was making quite a bit of noise. He never even comprehended this fact until he wrenched a door open to find another small child looking at him.

Torr, at the moment, was armored head to toe with spiked metal and, more or less a lumbering iron monster. So it was small surprise that the small child screamed bloody murder at the sight of him. Torr slammed the door closed and dashed back to Ferra, not sure what he was going to do, but thinking he was better off next to Ferra.

Seconds later, a tall man with a beard ran into Ferra/Torr's sights. Protecting Ferra on instinct, Torr stood up and roared loudly. He didn't know the bearded man had a shotgun. However, the ear-splitting boom and pain in his chest enlightened him. Torr looked down to see that, while it left a deep red burn, the shot didn't pass his thick skin.

Torr took a quick step forward, but the man pumped the gun and aimed it at Torr's head before the brute got too close. Torr stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the black barrel.

Torr looked to Ferra--who was passed out to the point that a shotgun blast didn't wake her up--and rumbled. Torr was by no means a genius, but he knew that the gun's power that close to his head would pierce his skin, skull, and brain. He thought this ending was fitting; beast dying protecting rider. He made a silent promise to Ferra to go down fighting.

However, before either brute or man could make the first move, there was a small voice.

"Tim," the voice came from the next room, where a woman and two children stood terrified.

Torr didn't know why that slowed him but it did. The man seemed to be having an internal conflict. After a minute, he squinted at Torr, held the shotgun firm, but said "Get out."

Torr looked at Ferra, not budging. He was not leaving Ferra in such an unsure situation. The man followed his gaze.

"We'll take care of her, but you," he poked him with the gun, "out."

It was the longest and hardest decision Torr made, but in the end it was either dead together or alive separate. He would not stand for Ferra dying so young.

Torr, with much reluctance, walked out of the cabin, never taking his eyes off Ferra.

Before he exited, however, he gave one last parting grunt to Ferra. Then, he turned and left.

"Where Torr?" Ferra asked with tears in her eyes.

Jessy hesitated. "Who's Torr, darlin'?"

"Torr! Big, strong, me friend! Where is he!" Ferra was sobbing by now.

The woman looked surprised. A knowing look of realization passed over her features. However, she put her hand on Ferra's shoulder and said, "I don't know, dear."

Ferra broke down and bawled. For the first time in their entire lives, Ferra/Torr had been separated.

Nooo! Ferra/Torr separated?! Impossible!

Sorry for the short, depressing chapter, readers but I plan great things for next chapter.

Next chapter will be the continuation of Ermac's misadventures in Japan

See you soon :)