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Forest Trickster
Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"That was the Traitor. You'll need to talk to him later, but now is not a good time," a voice said. The Trickster opened her eyes, and looked around. Everything was blank, black nothingness, apart from Cassie standing before her.

"Am I dead?" she asked.

"No, just asleep," Cassie said. The Trickster frowned. This dream seemed real, somehow.

"Cassie?"

"Yes, yes, I'm still here, what a surprise," Cassie said. "Kind of. This is more part of your mind trying to understand the power I gave you."

"What power?"

"Your own. I gave it back to you. You see, you've never had your heart eaten by a witch, so part of your magic was lost to you when you switched from your original body. But my great aunt was a witch, and it's hereditary; I've got the right neural architecture to activate your full power again."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't remember Dr Alphonse, the neurosurgeon?"

"The what?"

"Oh, right. Five hundred years from now, never mind."

"Am I... Am I going mad again?" the Trickster asked, her voice quavering.

"Well, yes, but technically you were never mad, just slightly unhinged in time."

"Sounds unhinged to me."

"Well, yes. Don't be sad, I've got some good news! That's why I'm here; your mind put me in place to order all of this information. Technically having a split personality makes you more mad rather than less; on the other hand it helps you be accepted by society, so it depends on your definition I suppose. Instead of you seeing all your time at once, I'll sift through it and let you know the important bits."

"Are there any important bits?"

"Of course! For instance: when you wake up, you should get out of here as soon as possible, otherwise Faren will shoot you with his ray gun again."

"I think I would be doing that anyway."

"Good! Also, don't eat the mushrooms tomorrow, they're poisonous."

"Oh. Okay..."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"All right! Do you remember the plan?"

"... Run away from the strange man with the silver house, and don't eat mushrooms tomorrow?"

"Apart from that?"

"Go to the Glade of the Gods to ask for help, because the cultists are really determined this time."

"No, the big plan. The long plan."

"Oh." The Trickster hesitated, then said reluctantly, ".. don't wake up Bounty until Penny gets back."

"You remember, good! Now, I'll tell you if there's anything relevant you need to know, but I'll try to leave you alone as much as possible."

"... Do you have to?"

"Really," Cassie said, shaking her head, "you should get yourself some actual friends..."

The Trickster woke up smelling burnt flesh from the corpses of cultists surrounding her. She blinked slowly, took a controlled, calming breath, then scrambled up and ran as fast as she could away from the silver disc.

"Ey!" the man with the strange jacket yelled. The Trickster didn't stop to look back. The air hit her lungs hard in the cold, and her muscles ached; she must have been badly hurt by the... whatever it was...

"Ray gun," Cassie supplied in the Trickster's head.

Ray gun. Right. The Trickster healed faster and more thoroughly than mere mortals, even now when she technically inhabited mere mortals' forms. Even having his intestines taken out hadn't killed him, but the more she ran and worked her muscles, the more a numbing sensation moved through them, making her stumble over the uneven ground.

"What a bitch of a weapon," she muttered, slowing down. The smell of signed cultists lingered in her nostrils (unless of course that was her flesh she could smell...)

There was no use running without a plan that hadn't worked out well lately. She still wanted to get to the Glade of the Gods, but that had become more difficult from the time she had run from the archers in exactly the wrong direction. Now both Magnus and the cultists were between her and the Glade. She would have to be careful if she were to try and go around them, especially since Magnus at the very least would know where she was headed.

"Any suggestions on what to do?" the Trickster asked out loud. Cassie was silent. "Figures," the Trickster muttered. She would have to go out of her way a little to avoid her pursuers. Magnus would probably suspect that she would go back towards the village, because she did tend to gravitate towards people when she was in a bind. So off the other way, deep into the unknown parts of the forest was her best bet. She gulped, then resolutely turned away from both the Glade and the village, and walked, limping into the unknown.

*

It took a while for Magnus to convince the dire dog to sit safely under a log out of the way, but when he was settled Magnus turned and waited for the cultists to show up. The dog growled as a few of their pursuers approached

"I would like to talk to you," Magnus said. A cultist with a sword ran up to him with a yell, but fell dead before he could reach his target. Magnus shook out his hand. That one had stung.

"How about you?" he asked the closest live cultist. "Are you willing to talk?"

"Die, witch!"

"No, then," Magnus sighed, as that cultist dropped to the ground. An arrow flew out from the trees, but it grew leaves and fell well short of its target.

"Have you got that out of your system yet?" Magnus asked, hands on hips. Five cultists charged at him in response.

"Oh, for--!"