Aunt T
Any luck?
Miranda
Not yet, but think I'm on his trail.
Aunt T
Okay. Let me know if you need a hand.
Oh, and keep your eyes out for a pillow. We could use another.
Miranda
I know. Thanks for letting me crash there.
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Green
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They followed racks of colorless cleaning supplies to the left, but behind a few stacked cardboard boxes, they spied a worn satchel; the brown of its leather was easy to pick out from the rest of the room.
Green knew this area to be one of the lesser used storage rooms, as it held cleaning supplies for after-hour staff. It was also on the opposite side of the store from most of the food items and it'll be fun to watch Two-leg cross a holiday infested food box on a deadline — he had about 20% left in the energy tank by Green’s estimation. If Two-leg got close to cycling, Green could hop ahead and grab something small to keep him from crossing, but he wanted to see if Two-leg could handle it.
Maybe he should start training fledglings? Sure, his methods were unorthodox, but Green was sure he'd have the best fledglings in all the Belly.
Two-leg picked up the satchel and slung it across his bare chest. “I should find some clothes if I can.”
“Not a bad idea.” It was a terrible idea, but he’d figure it out. Green moved towards the open door that led into the store proper.
“Colorful food, right?” Two-leg asked.
“Figured that out all on your own?” Green looked back and saw Two-leg smile. “Yeah, colored food. The gray stuff doesn’t provide any benefit.”
“Any food? Or specific types?”
“Higher the calorie count, the better,” said Green. “Oh, and grab me some leafy greens, you know, like parsley if you can.”
“Can’t you grab it?”
“I can eat it, but does it look like I have thumbs? That’s downright insensitive of you.”
“Sorry,” Two-leg said.
Green felt like he'd just bit a toddler. “It’s a joke, Two-leg. You didn’t violate the interspecies political correctness and diversity policy.”
Two-leg looked at him with a blank stare, crossing his arms over his chest, but stopped and dropped them awkwardly to his side. “That’s a thing? I mean, I’ll read it if it is. Wait, are you still messing with me?”
Green let out a couple honks, binkied, then moved through the open door and into the aisle before the temptation to have more fun at the fledgling’s expense got the better of him. He hopped across the outer shopping lane of the store, avoiding a few unbroken shades, then stopped at the foot of a floor level shelf, turned, and waited to see what Two-leg would do.
Two-leg walked up to the side door, brushed sweat from his forehead, and rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t step on to the outer lane. Instead, he paused, looking left, then right. He even scanned the shelves, looking for threats above. Pointing up at the rafters, he faced Green, then tried to say a sentence without words. What do humans call it? Mouthing? Mouth the words? It didn’t matter. Lip reading wasn’t a skill Green had, nor did he ever want to develop it. Humans had fully functional, weird, and expressive lips — ew.
“Don’t make me guess at your weird lips, Two-leg. I have big ears, so just keep your voice low. I'll hear you, and the shades probably won't cause problems.”
“Probably?” Two-leg whispered.
“The worst thing that happens is an unbroken shade, or ten, might bumble our way.” Unless a troll heard him, but that probably wouldn't happen.
“What are those?” Asher pointed up to the rafters where a dozen small furry creatures with bushy tails moved along the metal beams.
“Squirrels. They’re kind of slow,” said Green. “They hang out up there so they can easily find food. Lots of the smaller creatures live in food boxes these days. Just don’t make them angry.”
“Why not?” Asher asked, moving forward into the outer shopping lane behind a family of shades glancing at stoves.
“They can break shades, but shades can’t see them. These days pissing off an animal can lead to a serious problem for humans in a shade filled place like this.”
Two-leg nodded and cast a wary eye up to the rafters.
Why the shrivelled carrot had he just told Two-leg all of that? A rafter rodent getting the running part of this outing started would have been classic. Whatever, no point crying over moldy cabbage. “What’s the plan Two-leg? We stick around here much longer and you’re going to cycle.” Green settled down on top of his legs, assuming a fur loaf position.
Two-leg looked up at the aisle sign, tucking his shaggy head-fur behind his ears. Green knew they were in aisle 12 — fixtures, lightbulbs, and other houseware items. Food was on the other side of the store. There were two main tracks, an outer and an inner, that were connected by numbered aisles with product displays on both sides. Green enjoyed calling them tracks instead of lanes or paths because they were like race tracks, and at the center of the inner track were tables with clothing, low shelves filled with seasonal items, and toys.
“Okay.” Two-leg nodded. “The outer track has less traffic, so let’s follow it around and see if we can make it through produce, bakery, and the butcher sections. I don’t think we should go anywhere near the front of the store where the cash registers are.”
It was a good plan. The fledgling already knew the produce, butcher, and bakery sections would be difficult with lower displays and cluttered aisles, designed for a more meandering shopper, but Green knew they were going to be even tougher; Two-leg hadn’t taken the trolls into account. Green couldn’t wait to see the look on his face. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Two-leg was right, the traffic was less around the outer track, but there were still unbroken shades. Green easily avoided them, but Two-leg had a hard time avoiding shopping carts and strollers. At one point, Two-leg leapt onto a shelf carrying toiletries and plungers to dodge a three wide procession of shopping carts, then soon after he ducked into a display shower to avoid a lady and her stroller.
As they crossed in front of aisle 23, Two-leg paused, then turned down the aisle making his way towards the inner track. “I need a better look before we get to produce,” he said. “Plus, I want to see if there’s a chance to get….” Two-leg's mouth dropped and Green heard a whimper squeeze from his throat.
The fledgling stared, but not at the trolls Green was waiting for; no this shoulder slumped, open-mouthed expression was for the river of unbroken shades rotating in shuffling glee around the inner track and maybe, something more? Was that? Yeah, it was — a hint of wistful in Two-leg's features, and with quick vertical hop, Green saw the source. They stood out like beacons; colored clothing were lighthouses on table island floating in a sea of gray. Two-leg looked down at himself, his boxers faded and dry with blood.
Humans always feel exposed without clothing. “It ain’t worth it, Two-leg.” What was Green doing? That could have been amazing. Imagine if he made it across the inner track. No. That would take stupidity, not guts. At his current energy level, the risk was too high and shifted bravery to the realm of reckless.
“There’s an opening every few seconds, I might….”
“Sure. Give it a shot,” said Green. “But counterpoint. There’s also that.” Green turned his nose towards the front of the store. Normal shades weren’t the only problem. Two-leg should know if he’s going to commit cyclecide.
Two-leg followed where the bunny’s nose pointed out past the aisle and with a gasp he stumbled back a step when he saw the two figures. They were hunched over, just short of knuckle-dragging, but still doubled Two-leg’s height; their bodies were full of swirling gray mist, wide screaming mouths, and glowing violet eyes. Green heard the start of a scream form in Two-leg's throat, but he held it back jerking himself out of sight and into the aisle where his back slammed into support legs of side-by-side shelves — even without the Law of Observation they wouldn't have wobbled, but they were still metal and a clang rang out as the satchel's brass colored buckle slapped against them.
Uh oh, thought Green. That might get some attention. Here we go!
“Those are trolls? They’re monstrous!”
“Keep it down.” Green hopped back and forth on his paws. His eyes darted around, seeing if shades would start swarming towards them. “Yeah, it’s an amalgamation of sorts. There were twenty faces in the one. I think? I’m not great with numbers.”
“They’re already broken.” Two-leg ran his hands through his hair as he pushed off the shelf and quick-stepped to the other side of the aisle to avoid a shopping cart.
Green twitched his head to the side as Two-leg rubbed a knuckled fist over the center of his chest. “I’ve never seen an unbroken one.” What was Two-leg doing?
Two-leg glared. “Thanks for the heads-up. So, um, they can see me?” he asked, letting out a deep breath.
Green was about to answer when a loud crash echoed from the next aisle over, startling him into a leap to the opposite side of the aisle, and it was only through experience that he pushed through the adrenaline to toggle off the flight switch in his brain.
The sound of giggling followed him, and with a glance back he saw two kids righting a turned over shopping cart. “Control your spawn!” he shouted, adding in a double thump with his back foot, but concrete wasn't the most satisfying of surfaces to thump — wasn't nearly as loud as Green wanted it to be. “Didn't always hate kids,” Green muttered, hopping back to Two-leg — who hadn't moved. “But yeah, Trolls can see you. Two-leg, are you okay?”
Two-leg stood there knuckle on his chest again, eyes wide and blank while more shades came down aisle 23. It wasn't a swarm, but there was an uptick in the number of unbroken shades suddenly needing car batteries, oil, or wiper blades.
“Do you smell that? I….” The fist on his chest unclenched as he reached back, clinging to the metal frame of the shelf; his other hand grasped at his throat as he slid to the ground. Two-leg's breath came faster, each rapid and shallow, but what really worried Green was his color; it was fading — fast — whatever was happening gave Lady Wraith full sovereignty to suck him dry. “Two-leg? What’s going on? You need to snap out of it, Two-leg — come on!” The yellow-green energy over his heart swirled with desperate ferocity.
Two-leg whimpered and pulled his knees up to his chest with one hand while the other massaged his throat. He sobbed, the sound catching his throat and interrupting his breathing further, but Green could make out words between micro inhales. “Dad? Dad? Ben and Miri are hurt. Dad? Wake-up. Wake-up.” Shivers rippled through Green's body. What could he do? This was a human thing, not a bunny thing. Wilted! The shades! Never forget the unbroken; it was like fledgling rule number one. If a shade broke now, Two-leg was done.
The sound was attracting even more of the unbroken to aisle 23, so Green needed to get Two-leg as close to the shelving as he could. That should buy them some time. Green lined up with Two-leg's ankles, when Two-leg rocked back he pushed, lowered head leading the way, feet slipping on the smooth concrete, slowly he spun Two-leg sideways until his shoulder leaned against the rack, his feet just avoiding the first of the oncoming mayhem with a side of cycle. Two-leg was out of the way for now, but it wouldn’t matter, he was over eighty fiver percent faded.
What now? How could he stop it from happening? Itchy shed — some fledgling trainer he was turning out to be; food was the normal solution, but Green doubted he could get Two-leg swallowing. Maybe tough love would work? “Asher, come on! Save the breakdown for somewhere less shade infested.” Nothing, but maybe it wasn't enough; he should.... “Wilted!” The bond was back, but this time, multiple yellow-green tendrils of energy lashed out. Green darted under the gap in Two-leg’s bent knees, hopped through a space in the shelving, and skidded left on his footpads into the next aisle — evading the fledgling's magical plea.
“Hey!” shouted a voice from the rafters. “He doesn’t look too good.”
“Shut it, bushy,” Green said, adding a thump for emphasis. Not smart; didn’t you just tell Two-leg not to piss off animals? They break a shade right now, and it was all over.
“You should bite him,” squeaked a second voice.
“What? No.” That might work, but Two-leg was shook — bad. He might flail around and break shades, and he only had about 10% of his energy left. He glanced over. Nope, make that 5%. He was worse than he'd been in the alley.
“Uh oh,” declared the rafter peanut gallery in unison. A dozen squirrels all gathered at the edge of a rafter and looked towards the cash registers.
Green was about to thrash them verbally, but then he felt it; you always could with trolls. A slight drawing of air towards all those mouths as they tried to capture energy to sate their hunger — it was the closest equivalent to a light-breeze the Belly had. Green ducked into the inner track, muttered a curse about unlucky rabbit's feet, as a troll lumbered their way. With a glance back through the shelving, Green saw tears stream down Two-leg's face; his weird lips moved, but no sound escaped; something was wrong with him — inside. The familiar bond was flailing around and squirrels scattered as it struck at the beam below them, trying desperately to latch on to anyone, even a bushy rafter rodent; the energy tendrils were the flailing instinctual arms of an over-matched psyche, but it told Green something deep about Two-leg — the fledgling was full of fight.
Wilted! There was one path still to try, and his mind screamed that it wasn’t worth it, not again, but it wasn’t loud enough to slow him down; he spun, hopped back through the shelving, and squared off with — Asher. There was barely any color in him now, maybe the tiniest flicker of brown in his eyes, a glint of yellow in the satchel’s buckle. What was Green doing? This could drag him down too, but that was fear talking — true Ragers don’t speak fear.
“I’ve lived a long life. Let’s see if it’s worth anything,” said Green, his voice and feet steady as he took in a deep breath. “Asher, you can call me Green. I’m here for you, and I accept.” The splintered tendrils twined together and rocketed towards him in a blinding flash, but it didn't punch into Green; instead, as after flash danced in his vision, the bond brushed against his nose, and like a gentle thumb, slid to the top of Green's head.
Green had been alone for a long time, but a familiar bond was the promise of never having to endure loneliness again. The bond wrapped him in the warmth of a bunny burrito. It wasn’t the same as before; this felt — right. “I’m coming, kid.”
Without an active effort and training, their minds were open to one another, and while each bond was slightly different, Green knew the basics, so with a minor thought, he sent a pulse of sustaining energy along the newly formed bond; he felt himself fade, but saw the colors of Asher’s boxers and skin deepen.
The smell of oil and blood filled Green’s nose — it was starting. With a quick hop beside Asher, Green loafed down as the world around him dimmed and Asher instinctually pulled him along the bond and into a trauma of screeching tires and twisted metal.