Jayson walks through the dark forest of the Eagle Enclave. The moon and cracks in the sky provides some light, and Jayson's shadowy form fades in and out through the trees. He can’t help but think how some of the trees look like Lexanne watching him, and every now and then he’d see an old military vehicle consumed by plant life.

When Jayson steps into a small clearing, crunching twigs catches his attention. He stops, his ear twitches, and he looks around while gripping his cosmic wood sword's hilt.

“Jayson Hopper, I would like to chat now that we're alone,” says Trafford.

Jayson snaps around and sees Trafford standing nearby, staring at him from the base of a tree. His eyes glow in the moonlight, and his imposing frame towers over Jayson.

Jayson frowns and steps back; his grip tightens on his weapon.

“Aren't you supposed to be watching that boring video with Lexia and Derrick?” says Jayson.

“Don’t worry, I am. And I'm also here with you,” says Trafford.

Jayson growls. “Great. So, you're definitely a clone. How many of you are there?”

Trafford steps closer, his steps heavy and eyes focused. “I can promise you, Jayson, I am not a clone. “

Trafford continues forward, slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on Jayson, forcing Jayson to step back. The Hobo’s heart thumps against his ribs and despite his best efforts, trembles are shaking his body.

“But I have to say, you're an interesting one, you know that? You see, Lexia has legitimate beef with Mama Bear. Derrick's is fine, too, if we’re going with a works for salvation angle. But you?” Trafford wags his finger at Jayson. “Something's not right about you and your reasons to destroy Mama Bear.”

“And yet you offered me money and erasure if I help you get Ramsey, which would cripple Mama Bear,” says Jayson.

“That’s because we want Ramsey. Mama Bear being weakened is just a bonus. As for you? I know what you did, Jayson, and it has little to do with Mama Bear. But her downfall is something you crave. It's very peculiar. You're peculiar in general.”

Jayson steps back and prepares to draw his weapon.

“Stay back!” orders Jayson.

Trafford continues forward. “Tell me. Where did you get that weapon? It is odd.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“I worked real estate.”

Trafford stops and furrows his brows. “That answers absolutely nothing.”

“Yeah, well that's all you're getting.”

Trafford grins. “Okay, you can be that way. But can you do me a favor and let me taste you?”

Jayson sneers. “What?”

“I want to lick you.”

“What? No! That's weird. You're weird. Why are you so weird!?”

Trafford taps his chin. “Let’s see. PTSD from a horrendous car wreck? Or maybe trauma from other terrible events? Hard to pinpoint exactly where the source is when you have dozens of memories in one mind. But anyway.”

In a blur, Trafford lunges forward and Jayson quickly blocks his strike with his cosmic wood sword. The sword's swirling energy glows in the dark, and Trafford tries striking again, but with the one-second time dilation Jayson blocks and dodges his next attack.

Jayson rolls away from Trafford, and after a few more quick and well-coordinated strikes, blocks, counters and more strikes and deflections, Jayson manages to whack Trafford in the side.

There is a sonic boom, and Trafford hits a tree, breaking off a chunk. Trafford falls to the ground, and the tree snaps and falls over, kicking up mulch.

Jayson watches Trafford, breathing heavily and rubbing his thumping heart. Then his eyes bulge when Trafford gets up on wobbly legs and coughs out blood, but he still smiles.

“Very nice. I’ll let you get a head start so I can catch my breath,” says Trafford.

Jayson's heart races, and Trafford's bloody teeth shine in the moonlight.

“Run, Jayson,” rasps Trafford.

Jayson bolts through the trees, opposite direction of Trafford. He looks over his shoulder and sees Trafford staring at him, but when he looks ahead, Trafford, in perfect health, grabs him by the neck and slams him into a tree.

Bark breaks, Jayson yells in pain and drops his weapon, and Trafford lifts him higher, putting his feet dangling.

Jayson's eyes lock with Trafford's as he gags for air and tries to pry the hand off his throat. His eyes intense with fear and anger, and Trafford is curious and calm.

When his attempts prove futile, Jayson reaches for his weapon, but Trafford uses his feet to kick it in the air and catch it with his free hand. Energy crackles, and Trafford looks at it with perked ears while his hand sizzles and cracks.

“Oh, nice. It's tingly. And... Odd... Its energy doesn't match this place. Yet I can feel some similarities,” says Trafford. “Now how about you?”

Trafford licks Jayson's cheek and frowns in disappointment while Jayson thrashes some more. The ram’s hand is also burning, with bits of burnt flesh falling off, exposing his bones.

“Darn. You are from around here,” says Trafford.

“What the hell are you?” grunts Jayson.

“Not what. But who. And you already know who I am. I am Trafford Augustine. I work for the ones who can reverse what you did while destroying the one you hate. I can help you if you let me,” says Trafford.

He throws Jayson to the ground, tosses the weapon to him and adjusts his outfit to tug away the wrinkles, not caring of the blood or his destroyed hand.

“That said, I'm hoping for an actual answer from your group soon. Yes or no, it doesn't matter to me. But then again, I don't have a past to erase. As for your wooden sword? Guard that item closely. We'll be in touch.”

Then Trafford walks away, and Jayson stares at him with wide eyes and drooped ears. When Trafford disappears in the darkness of the forest, his shaky hands grab his sword, and he uses it to prop himself up. And he keeps staring into the darkness, hand clutching his heavy heart. Each pump dragging in the darkness at the edge of his vision.

Soon, all he sees his darkness, and he collapses and passes out.