Karofsky loomed over Kurt, holding his shoulders down against the bed with his hands. Kurt could see the rage in his face, the anger directly completely at him. He was being shaken while the larger boy yelled at him, spitting as he spoke, with the saliva hitting Kurt all over his face.

"You good for nothing whore. You totally useless slut!"

Kurt tensed up and shut his eyes, trying to will David away as well as the tears forming in his eyes.

"You shot me! YOU. SHOT. ME. I was the only reason no one took to killing you! Now there's nothing to stop them... or me!"

Kurt shuddered, knowing he couldn't respond. Wait. It wasn't that didn't want to respond, it was that he physically couldn't. He was trying to take in air and let it out as a scream, but his vocal cords weren't working. He couldn't make a sound, and no one could come to help him if they couldn't hear him.

"Now you're going to pay for what you did to me..."

Kurt knew he was in for pain. He knew there was no escaping, yet he continued to try to scream, try to beg for mercy, try to get someone to hear him.

"KURT!"

Wait, Kurt thought, that wasn't Karofsky's voice.

"KURT! Wake up!"

Kurt's eyes bolted open and he found himself sitting upright with his hands fisted around his blanket, sweat dripping down his brow, and out of breath. It took him a moment to realize that it had been a dream; no, a nightmare. In that moment, he heard the voice that made him calm, and feel safe.

Blaine had his hands on Kurt's thighs and was looking directly at Kurt from a position across from him. The campfire they had set up for the night was still crackling behind Blaine with a faint leftover smell of beans and rice from their meal before.

"Kurt... you were screaming in your sleep again..."

Blaine looked exhausted as he said it, and leaned back to sit on the dirt floor behind him with a sigh. Too many nights Kurt had woken up like this, and always to find Blaine looking out over him with worry. He had thought he would be fine when they left Lima. He hadn't been, and Blaine was the one suffering for it. Despite what he said, Kurt knew that Blaine would stay up well past when he needed to sleep to keep an eye on Kurt. He was exhausted - they both were, and Kurt didn't know how to make the nightmares stop.

And it wasn't just nightmares either. He was prone to jumping at the smallest noises, his heart beating like it was going to explode out of his chest when it happened. They had discovered that being around too many people caused Kurt to get anxious and afraid. On one occasion Kurt had smelled something that had reminded him of David's scent, and it took Blaine hours to get him to stop crying. His dream of going to the big city to become a big name tailor had effectively been ruined by the memory of his tormentor, and now he and Blaine travelled the lands aimlessly.

Blaine said he didn't mind - that he was happy to just be with Kurt, but Kurt felt like he had become more of a burden and less of a lover than Blaine would let on. Blaine was, after all, the one who would go into town to gamble and do odd jobs in order to make money for them both. Occasionally Kurt would pick up some tailoring jobs to do, but most people tended to be suspicious of the quality of travelling tailors, and it wasn't like Kurt had too many marketable skills beyond that.

Kurt unlocked his fingers from the blanket and reached up with a hand to wipe the sweat from his face. "I'm sorry Blaine... I'm sorry. I can't make them stop."

Blaine tsked and took a handkerchief from his duster, reaching over to wipe the sweat from Kurt's brow before Kurt could finish moving his hand up to do the job. "S'alright."

Blaine always said it was alright. Blaine never complained about not getting any sleep, or working to feed two men and two horses, or having to be a nursemaid to Kurt when he was at his worst. Blaine spared Kurt his feelings.

"It's not alright. Stop saying it is." Kurt spat out, looking at Blaine with sudden outrage. "I'm a bloody mess in the head and it's not getting better and you're the one who has to take care of me like I'm a child."

Blaine just rolled his eyes, a gesture which made Kurt angrier. "Kurt, I don't care. I'd rather have you with me then be without you, crazy in the head or not."

Kurt knew Blaine was trying to make light of the situation, but the comment only fueled the fire in him. He threw off the blanket and stood up, storming over to his black stallion, Kikife before Blaine could protest.

"I'm going for a ride."

Blaine stood up and frowned, his whole face darkening as he looked towards Kurt, "It's the middle of the night. You're not familiar with this territory - or Kikife for that matter. Don't be ridiculous."

The anger that was pumping through Kurt's veins was suddenly replaced with the knowledge that Blaine was, once again, right. Going off into the night would only show how stupid he was being, and likely get him caught up in trouble. How many bandit groups had they encountered on their travels already? And Kurt didn't understand the sign language that Blaine had used to negotiate passage with native groups. Hell, if Kurt suddenly was triggered by something, he could wind up a sobbing mess that would be perfect wolf food out here.

In defeat, Kurt slumped to the ground, back against the tree being used as a tie for Ominitago and Kikife. He dropped his face into the palms of his hands, and despite having been trying to keep it together, started crying again.

Almost as soon as he had begun, Blaine was crouched at his side and gently rubbing Kurt's shoulder, "It's alright Naehame..."

Blaine had called him that before, many times in fact. When Kurt had asked him about it, Blaine had told him that it was a Cheyenne word that reflected his love for Kurt. The musical way it came out of Blaine's mouth made Kurt's heart swell up, and for the third time in the past few minutes, his mood shifted again. He leaned against Blaine, who expertly wrapped his arms around Kurt and held him close as Kurt ended his crying.

"I need to do something Blaine... I need to do something so I can fix myself. I can't keep living like this - being so dependant on you for everything..."

"I don't mind." was Blaine's immediate response.

"You don't mind, but I do. I need to feel useful - like I'm doing something good in the world. I get bored sitting around when you work. It was fun at first, but now I only have my own mind for company when you're gone - and it's just not good company these days." Kurt turned to look to Blaine, seeing in his face that he understood. Blaine was silent for a minute, and his eyes darted around as he thought, before they came back up to meet with Kurt's again.

"We could go west... where I know some of my mother's people are."

Kurt arched an eyebrow, unsure of the meaning behind that suggestion. Blaine hadn't talked much about his mother's people, much less his own parents. Kurt knew that Blaine was part Cheyenne on his mother's side, and Irish on his father's side. His dad was in Philadelphia working on a political career and hadn't wanted much to do with Blaine as he had gotten older - not having a lot of use for a half-breed gay son. Blaine never spoke directly about his mother, it was always 'his mother's people', and when Kurt had asked what part she had played in his growing up, he had gotten a pained look from Blaine, and silence.

But Blaine had lived with his mother's people at some point, because he seemingly understood the language, knew the stories and traditions, and had apprenticed under a medicine woman. He didn't belong with them, or so he told Kurt, so he didn't stay with them.

Blaine himself didn't look very native, at least not what Kurt had seen of Native Americans since he had left Lima, nor did he look white. His curls had to be from his father's side of the family since all the Irish men and women Kurt had met had them, but the dark hair and sun-kissed skin had to be from his mother. He seemed to be passable as a darker skinned white boy in towns, at least until he started talking. Blaine didn't speak unnecessarily long, and had a habit of tossing in the odd Cheyenne word, though Kurt wasn't sure if that was purposeful or not.

For all of Blaine's tenderness and care, there was still too much Kurt didn't know about, and Kurt had wondered on more than one occasion if he would still be here, with Blaine, if Blaine hadn't been the first one, the first gay man, that Kurt had met. Technically, David was gay, but David was neither out nor an option for Kurt given the abuse Kurt had suffered at his hands. Then he had discovered that Sebastian too was gay, also secretly, and apparently had a relationship with David - one which Kurt still had a hard time wrapping his head around. But Blaine had come to Lima, and Blaine had wanted him, and loved him.

So Kurt was here now, with Blaine, instead of in Lima. But Kurt had nothing to do and no future for himself he could see, aside from one at Blaine's side. He wondered if he had made the right choice, or if his desperation to get out of Lima had caused him to make a hasty decision.

"... there are many ways to heal oneself beyond the ways the white doctors know. Perhaps my mother's people could help." Blaine had been talking and Kurt had not been paying full attention, though he caught onto that last bit and looked towards Blaine skeptically. He could barely articulate what was wrong with himself to Blaine, let alone someone he didn't share a language or culture with.

Blaine recognized Kurt's hesitation and continued speaking, "It is better than continuing to do nothing."

Kurt sighed and reluctantly nodded to Blaine. That was something he certainly couldn't argue. "Fine. How far?"

Blaine looked up at the stars, and mapped them in his head. It was a skill that Blaine had been teaching Kurt, though Kurt was still having troubles seeing the differences in some stars enough to be able to navigate with them. After a minute, Blaine looked back to Kurt with a gentle smile, "About three days only if we keep a steady pace."

Kurt nodded again, thinking of how his rear would eventually form a callus from sitting on a saddle so much. A few times they had gone at what Blaine had called "a steady pace" and Kurt's thighs had been numb afterwards. But to his credit, he hadn't whined or complained, since really, Kurt didn't have much to complain about compared to the situation he had escaped from. He was lucky to be alive, lucky that Blaine's bullet had cut the rope that held his noose before he was completely devoid of air. He didn't know why he didn't savour his life more given that he really was getting a second chance at it.

"Is your mother among your mother's people?"

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath, and Kurt could see in his face that his words had wounded Blaine's heart. He immediately regretted asking the question. Blaine's lips pursed and he looked away, giving Kurt a simple response. "No."

Kurt didn't inquire further and instead pushed Blaine away with a hand to the chest so he could stand up and walk back over to his bedroll by the firepit. He could hear the steps behind him indicating that Blaine was following.

Without speaking again, Kurt laid down and pulled his blanket back over him while Blaine went to sit on his bedroll, still unpacked, beside Kurt.

"Please sleep with me tonight Blaine..."

Blaine looked down to Kurt, who was looking up at him with pleading eyes. A soft smile was his first response and then Blaine got off his bedroll and undid the twine holding it together, letting it roll apart. He carefully placed it beside Kurt's and then crawled under his own blanket. Kurt immediately shifted over and snuggled against Blaine, who, as always, wrapped an arm around him.

"May the Wise one Above and the God below the ground give you peace tonight." Blaine spoke and gently kissed the top of Kurt's head which Kurt had rested on Blaine's chest.

Kurt let out a little murmur, but by the time it came out of his lips, it was incomprehensible, as Kurt had quickly drifted into sleep.

Three days had passed, and then four. Now it was their fifth day on the trail of a tribe that Blaine was hopeful about seeing. He never said as much to Kurt, but the intensity with which Blaine tracked the tribe, and the way he looked out into the distance trying to see the people he was trying to get to spoke loudly enough.

Kurt on the other hand was ready to complain. Kikife was reliable and gentle, but had no sense about his size or how every time he trotted he bounced Kurt up and down. Blaine had not been allowed to go near Kurt's ass in the past two days. It hurt. As did his thighs and abdomen. Every day he nearly fell off Kikife and went straight into his bedroll, which at this point Blaine was getting ready for him. His body was sore in ways he had never imagined. Blaine had been giving him tea laced with herbs to take the edge off the pain, but Kurt wondered how long that would help for. He wanted to get to the tribe now, if only to stop having to ride so hard every day.

Blaine continued to move with ease, and Kurt wondered how much he had slowed down Blaine's pace by joining him. It was clear that these long, arduous rides didn't phase Blaine at all, or, if they did, he didn't let anyone see it. In fact, he had made the extra effort to go fishing and give Kurt something different to eat just last night since Blaine usually preferred rabbit or duck.

Now Blaine was humming, riding Ominitago just ahead of him by a few paces. Kurt didn't know the tune, but it was upbeat, which from Blaine was unusual in and of itself. Blaine usually went for the mournful, slow songs, and usually played the harmonica instead of using his own voice. Not that Kurt would complain. Blaine's voice was always music to him.

"Whoa!" Blaine pulled on Ominitago's reigns and squinted ahead. Kurt pulled Kikife to a stop as well, and joined Blaine in his squinting, trying to see what Blaine was seeing.

He could barely make out smoke coming up from a singular source in the horizon. He couldn't see the fire, but could make out short, conical trees around that fire - a type of tree he couldn't place. Kurt looked sidelong to Blaine and saw that he had an actual full faced grin covering his face. Just to see the hugeness of the smile made Kurt smile in turn. Blaine smiled for Kurt easily, but rarely ever this large and with such joy expressed in all his features.

Blaine turned his head and faced the grin towards Kurt. "I think that's them!" He looked back to the horizon and nipped Ominitago in the side with the heel of his boot, causing her to bolt ahead and Blaine along with her. Kurt gave a similar heel-butt to Kikife, along with the customary "Giddy-up!". The brute of a horse running along after Ominitago as if it were a race, much to the chagrin of Kurt's rear.

As they came closer to the campsite, Kurt noted that what he had thought were tree's, were instead tall tents, covered in what looked like painted animal hides. What he thought had been one fire, had been several, one from each of the tents. He made out the forms of people, olive skinned with long dark hair. Many of them wore braids, and almost all wore animal hide clothing, some with intricately beaded designs.

The olive skin strangers watched cautiously as the two of them approached, and one of the older looking men in the group approached them as they halted their horses just on the edge of the camp. Blaine slid off his horse, and Kurt, slowly, followed his lead, grimacing as he felt the pain up and down his legs from having to stand on sore limbs.

Blaine and the man before him exchanged words in a language that Kurt could only presume was Cheyanne. It sounded absolutely musical, and flowed in a quick rhythm that matched the beat of his heart. He wondered how the Cheyenne were able to breath when they talked, since they didn't seem to stop for air.

A few of the women had walked closer to Kurt and seemed to be having a conversation about him, pointing to him and also talking in that quick, lyrical language. Kurt shifted uncomfortably in spot, wishing he had asked Blaine to teach him the language. He felt so out of place here, and lacked any ability to contribute to what Blaine was doing.

At this point, the older native man had called over an old and worn looking woman. The woman was smiling at Blaine, and he was returning the smile. Again the conversation started up and Kurt allowed his eyes to drift and take in the little village here. Most of the people had come to encircle them, watching curiously, or holding conversations of their own while pointing at Kurt or Blaine. The children were looking up at their parents and asking what Kurt assumed to be questions about them, because the parents spoke in that patient and deliberate way that parents do when they're explaining something to their children.

Finally, Blaine looked back and smiled at Kurt, turning his tongue back to English, "These are some of my mother's people. They will let us camp with them and the medicine woman will see if she can help you."

Kurt nodded in reply, noting that the woman who had spoken to Blaine must be the medicine woman. He followed Blaine as he brought his horse over to where a makeshift pen had been set up with about two dozen horses corralled inside. They took off the saddles and blankets and then let their horses join the horses of the Cheyenne tribe. Ominitago whinnied to the crowd, letting her presence be known, while Kikife skulked in behind her, looking none too pleased about this change in scenery.

As they went to set up a campsite of their own, Kurt noticed that they had been followed by some of the children, who watched them from a distance with curious eyes. As if he could read his mind, Blaine spoke.

"Most of the children have never seen a white man before."

Kurt made a small o with his mouth and nodded, then decided to give the children a smile of his own, which caused them to erupt into giggles. Before he knew it, they had crept up further and he could hear them whispering among themselves.

"What are they saying Blaine?"

Blaine smirked a little as he worked on getting the fire started. He looked up from where he was kneeling to look at Kurt and then look back at the children.

"They wonder if your skin has never been touched by Grandfather Sun, or why your eyes are the colour of the river and the sky. They wonder if your skin is painted on and if you take off your clothes, they will find someone like them underneath."

Kurt furrowed up his brow - a blend of confusion and disbelief. He looked back at the children and then slowly pulled off his jacket, and then his shirt, leaving on his undershirt but exposing his equally pale arms for show to them. The little ones gasped and immediately began conversing rapidly among themselves again.

Blaine chuckled from where he was kneeling and where he had just gotten a spark going in the firepit. Kurt immediately turned to him, realizing that he had gotten in on some sort of joke that Kurt could interpret. "What?"

"They think you must bathe in boiled white fungus to get that colour."

Kurt blanched and looked between Blaine and the children incredulously. "Well... can you tell them I'm just a boring white man who was simply born like this?"

Blaine looked up to the children and rattled off what Kurt assumed to be the explanation. The children seemed to process the information and then one of them, an older girl, replied to Blaine, who quickly replied back.

"Translate?" Kurt prompted, leaning down ever so slightly to pull off his riding chaps and hopefully do so in a way that wouldn't cause him too much pain.

"They wanted to know if you were one of the good white men or bad ones. I told them good - unless you have been riding for several days straight - then you are just a grouchy white man."

Kurt snorted at that, something between a short laugh and a huff of disapproval. He managed to get his chaps off and folded them to the side before he came to the final test of his pain - sitting down. Blaine was watching him at this point and again spoke in rapid Cheyenne to the children who all quickly flocked around Kurt and helped ease him to the ground. Kurt's eyes were wide in shock at this gesture, but realized that Blaine must have asked them to help. He smiled and nodded his thanks to them, but then had the sense to ask Blaine - "How do you say thank you?"

"Hahoo."

"Hah-hoo." Kurt enunciated slowly, copying Blaine to the best of his abilities. The children laughed and once they had each taken turns looking at Kurt's eyes with a bit of awe, they ran off together, back to the main village site.

"Well that was awkward..." Kurt mused, shimmying his trousers down and leaving him in his boxers.

Blaine was now setting up the bed rolls, side by side. Usually Blaine would have begun cooking them supper, but Kurt had the feeling they wouldn't need to worry about that here.

"They are just children trying to learn about the world around them."

Kurt hummed his acknowledgement and then saw that the medicine woman was approaching, a plate in her hands. Blaine rose to greet her and they chatted away for a moment before Blaine brought the plate to Kurt and the medicine woman walked back to the village. On it was a medley of different plants, some of which Kurt didn't know, what looked to be a type of bread, and stewed hunks of meat.

Kurt was salivating and greedily began scooping up the meat on the bread, moaning his appreciation of the flavour to Blaine, who laughed.

"Where's yours?" Kurt asked then, looking at the plate and wondering if this had been meant for them to share.

"I will go get mine later. The medicine woman put herbs in your food to help with the pain and help you sleep."

Kurt dropped the bread on the plate and coughed, looking at Blaine in panic, "What? Blaine! I don't even know her! What if she tries to poison me?!"

Blaine shook his head at Kurt and leaned over, picking the bread back up and scooping some of the meat onto it before bringing it back before Kurt's mouth, "She won't. It is her sacred duty to help."

Kurt looked at the food and then to Blaine's eyes, the amber in them pleading with Kurt to trust in him. So Kurt took a bite from the offered food and then continued to eat, albeit a little less enthusiastically now. By the time he had finished, he was feeling incredibly drowsy and crawled himself into his blankets without much more than a goodnight grunt to Blaine.

"Sleep well Naehame."