The morning sun oozed faintly through the rapidly darkening clouds above, distant thunder rumbling deeply as David and Claire stood atop a rocky ridge, their eyes fixed on the distant figures of Kozlov and his group. The forest stretched out before them, a sea of green that gradually gave way to the murky expanse of the swamp. Ancient oaks and towering pines stood sentinel along the border, their branches reaching out over the marshy terrain like grasping fingers.
The air was thick with a cacophony of scents that assaulted David's sensitive nose. The rich, earthy aroma of decaying leaves and damp soil mingled with the sharp tang of pine resin and the musty odor of fungi. From the swamp came the unmistakable stench of stagnant water and rotting vegetation, undercut by the faint, sickly-sweet scent of carnivorous plants lying in wait for unwary prey.
Claire's nostrils flared as she too took in the olfactory landscape. Her reptilian sense of smell no doubt picking up on subtleties even David missed; the faint musk of small mammals scurrying through the underbrush, the mineral tang of sun-warmed rocks, and the complex bouquet of pheromones released by countless insects going about their tiny lives.
Despite her earlier attempts at optimism, Claire's massive form now drooped visibly. She let out yet another heavy sigh, her scales seeming to lose some of their luster as she watched their friends disappear into the distance.
David, hanging from a thick branch above her, silently shared her melancholy. He knew their departure was for the best, but that knowledge did little to ease the ache of separation. His thoughts kept circling back to Kozlov's parting words about needing a purpose.
I don’t have one, do I? Not really. ‘Survive’ is more of a…baseline? Yeah. Even normal animals back in the day could manage that, for the most part. Granted, they had Humans to worry about back then but…
Frustrated by the direction of his thoughts, David began to flap his wings irritably. He caught himself mid-motion and let out a loud sigh, only to hear Claire sighing in perfect synchronization below him.
Claire's sigh cut off abruptly, replaced by a rumbling chuckle. "Am I really that predictable?" she asked, her tone a mixture of amusement and self-deprecation. "You're being a real asshole calling me out like that, bat boy. It's not like you, sorry if I was being annoying."
David shook his head, his ears twitching. "Nah, it's not you, fatty. I was sighing for my own reasons. It's just... something Kozlov said is stuck in my head like a bad song."
"Oh?" Claire tilted her head, fixing David with one large, inquisitive eye. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"
David hesitated, struggling to put his feelings into words. "He said they needed a purpose. And it got me thinking... what the hell is mine? I mean, I didn't even have one before the world went sideways. Now? I'm just... existing."
Claire was quiet for a moment, her tail swishing thoughtfully. "Well," she said finally, "how about finishing Omega's quest? You know, killing a boss solo without going batshit crazy. That seems like a pretty good purpose, at least for now."
David shook his head, his wings rustling. "Nah, that's not a purpose, Claire. That's just a goal. A purpose is... bigger, y'know? Something that drives you, gives your life meaning. Finishing Omega's quest is just a checkbox on a to-do list."
"Huh," Claire grunted, her brow furrowing in thought. "I guess you've got a point there. So what, you're having an existential crisis now? Because let me tell you, bat boy, the apocalypse is a hell of a time to start questioning the meaning of life."
David snickered to himself, shifting his upside-down position to look straight at Claire. He mulled over her words, briefly wondering if he was having the monster equivalent of a midlife crisis. After a moment, he shook his head.
"Nah, I'm not questioning the meaning of life or anything that dramatic," he said. "Just... trying to figure out what the hell I want to do with mine now. You get me?"
Claire nodded slowly, her huge clawed feet crunching the rocky soil beneath her as she shifted her weight. "Yeah, I think I do. Look, I'm not gonna pretend I know what it's like to have Omega's bullshit ultimatum hanging over my head, or to have some creeper like Xi playing mind games with me…” She paused slightly, shifting her gaze down into the dirt thoughtfully before continuing.
“But I do get what it's like to sit here, watching my friend deal with all that crap, and not being able to do jack about it."
David felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. Claire might not always know the exact right thing to say, but she always tried, and damn if she didn't always have his back. Without a word, he sent a mental command to the Cuddlebugs scattered around the forest:
Turbo Cuddle Claire. She's sad.
The reaction was instantaneous. Every Cuddlebug scattered in the forest around them froze in place, from the dimmest bulb to the sharpest tack. David could practically hear the gears grinding in their tiny heads as they processed the concept of 'sad'. They didn’t seem to understand for a few moments, though David sensed a few of them default to ‘Claire is injured’ and immediately became alert and slightly aggressive.
Suddenly, a distorted image flashed through the mental link from the veteran Cuddlebug - a memory of the moment the Owl had obliterated two of their number. It wasn't quite sadness as humans understood it, more a sense of loss, but it was close enough.
Yeah, that's it. Claire's sad because the others leaving is like losing them, even if it's just for a while.
Understanding rippled through the swarm like a furry, squeaking wave. Within seconds, Claire's face was buried under an avalanche of Cuddlebugs, each one determined to cheer her up in their own unique way.
Some licked at her face, focusing on the area around her eyes as if trying to lap up non-existent tears. Others simply rubbed their impossibly soft bodies against her scales, purring and chirping encouragement in their own incomprehensible language. Even the Empowered Cuddlebugs joined in, their efforts more focused and determined, fueled by their ability to grasp the nuances of Claire's emotional state.
Claire's reaction was exactly what David expected. At first, she tensed up, her eyes widening in surprise at the sudden furry onslaught. Then, as realization dawned, her expression morphed into a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.
"David, you absolute ass," she growled, her voice muffled by the blanket of Cuddlebugs. "I swear if these little fuzzballs start nesting in my nostrils again..."
But even as she grumbled, David could see her jaws open slightly in a happy little grin. It only took a few moments of her basking in the affection of the tiny summons before she had mostly returned to her usual self. Her tail, which had been lying limp and dejected, now swished back and forth with renewed energy. David’s sensitive ears also detected a very faint happy rumbling sound from where the enormous reptile was, and he felt some of his dejected mood boil away as he watched the spectacle.
David grinned to himself, feeling a surge of affection for both Claire and his army of furry therapists. "Come on, fatty," he called down. "You can't tell me that's not at least a little bit awesome. It's like a living, purring security blanket!"
Claire's only response was a snort that almost sent a few Cuddlebugs tumbling, but David noticed she made no move to shake them off.
Sometimes, the best cure for existential angst was a good old-fashioned cuddle pile. Even if said pile came with a side of potential nostril invasion.
David recalled the Cuddlebugs with a mental nudge, watching as they reluctantly detached themselves from Claire's scales. With a soft rustle of leathery wings, he released his grip on the branch and glided down to Claire's broad, armored back. Landing with a gentle thump, he stretched languidly, his wings extending to their full span before folding neatly against his sides. His elongated neck arched backwards, tiny fangs glinting in the muted light as he yawned widely.
Claire swiveled her now Cuddlebug-free face around, observing David's display with amusement. As if on cue, her own massive jaws began to part in a yawn so wide it seemed her skull might unhinge. The sound that escaped her was a deep, rumbling bellow that sent a momentary shiver through David's mane. He grinned to himself, marveling at how quickly one could adapt to the bizarre. Claire's jaws snapped shut with a crisp clack that echoed across the ridge.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Without warning, Claire shook herself vigorously, the motion rippling from her neck all the way to the tip of her tail. David flared his wings for balance, surfing the undulating scales beneath him. The Cuddlebugs squealed in delight, treating the impromptu ride like a furry roller coaster.
As the tremors subsided, Claire shot David a bemused look. "Is that contagious yawn thing part of your Control bullshit now?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and accusation.
David chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm not that much of a monster. Just good old-fashioned sleep deprivation at work."
On a whim, David turned to one of the newer Empowered Cuddlebugs perched nearby. He sent it a series of mental images: Kozlov's group, the distant highway to Riverport, instructions to observe but remain hidden, returning when they were on the highway and out of danger. The tiny creature sat at attention, its beady eyes focused with an intensity that bordered on comical. It looked for all the world like a furry, pint-sized soldier receiving top-secret orders.
David snickered internally, recalling how long it had taken the other Empowered Cuddlebugs to develop personalities of their own. This one was still in its ‘yes sir, no sir’ phase.
With a serious chirp of acknowledgment, the Cuddlebug launched itself from Claire's back, streaking towards the forest where Kozlov's group had disappeared. Claire watched it go, her reptilian features arranged in an expression of amusement.
"So," she drawled, "you just gonna use these little furballs to spy on everything and everyone now that you've figured out how?"
David grinned, unabashed. "You bet your scaly ass I am. It's way too good an option not to abuse."
Claire mulled this over for a moment before shrugging her massive shoulders, nearly unseating David in the process. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "Well, just remember, bat boy. If I catch any peeping bats while I'm changing, I'm having barbecued wings for dinner."
For once, David didn't freeze up at the faux-flirting. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, he heard himself say, "Please, as if I'd need to peep. Echolocation lets me see around corners and under doors anyway."
Claire froze, her eyes widening to comical proportions. For a heartbeat, David thought he'd gone too far. Then, without warning, she erupted into a cackling laugh he'd never heard before. It was a full-bodied, belly-deep sound that reminded David of nothing so much as rocks being tossed into a wood chipper.
As Claire's laughter echoed across the ridge, David felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the approaching storm. Maybe he didn't have all the answers yet, maybe his purpose was still a work in progress. But right here, right now, trading barbs with his best friend atop a cliff overlooking the end of the world? This felt pretty damn close to where he was supposed to be.
Claire's laughter finally subsided, leaving her with a bemused expression. "Where the hell did that come from, bat boy? You're usually tripping over your own wings when it comes to this stuff."
David shrugged, his wings rustling. "Honestly? It just popped out before I could think about it. Brain-to-mouth filter must be on the fritz."
Claire snickered heartily. "Well, you should do it more often. It's..." She froze for a split second, looking as if she couldn't believe what she'd just said. With practiced ease, she covered by snapping at a non-existent bug nearby.
David wasn't quite sure what to make of that, and from Claire's expression, neither was she. By unspoken agreement, they both seemed to decide that particular conversational path was best left unexplored. At least for now.
Clearing his throat, David changed the subject. "So, uh, want to join me in letting Wonder Weasel’s pet snake know I offed the Owl? I'd rather not get jumped during the boss fight by some vengeful electric ferret who thinks I'm buddies with bird-brain."
Claire shook her massive head, scales glinting in the dim light. "As much as I'd love to see you try to explain that mess, it'd take me forever to lumber over there and back. Besides," she added, her tone growing serious, "we're running out of time to plan your boss takedown. You know, the whole 'kill or go crazy' deal?"
David patted Claire's neck, his leathery wings rustling. "I'll make it quick, fatty. Meet you back at the lean-to for one last hurrah before we hit the road."
With a powerful flap, he launched himself off Claire's back. As he took to the air, he sent a mental nudge to the veteran Cuddlebug, giving it permission to stay with Claire. The tiny creature seemed positively delighted, immediately fluttering forward to perch on one of Claire's horns. It began to chirp at her in an almost conversational tone, mimicking the cadence of speech if not the actual content. David paused mid-flight, watching the interaction with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
Just how smart are these little guys getting? And what's the upper limit here?
The thought flickered through his mind before he shook it off, focusing on the task at hand.
With a familiar surge of exhilaration, David fed his Wildsoul into his wings. The rush of power was intoxicating, propelling him to speeds that would have been impossible for a creature his size just a few months ago. The world blurred around him, wind whistling past his elongated ears.
Suddenly, he realized he'd left his furry entourage in the dust. Cursing under his breath, David slowed to a languid glide, allowing the Cuddlebugs to catch up. They swarmed around him, chirping grumpily as they landed on his back and shoulders. A few even clung to his mane, their tiny claws tickling his skin.
"Sorry, guys," David muttered, feeling a bit sheepish. "Guess I got carried away there."
David made a quick detour to the Observatory, snatching up the Owl's severed head. He felt a twinge of awkwardness, realizing this was the second time in recent memory he'd be presenting someone with a decapitated noggin.
Maybe I should start a collection. Bat-monster taxidermist has a nice ring to it.
With his grisly prize secured, David took to the skies once more. He homed in on his Cuddlebug spy's location, pouring Wildsoul energy into his wings. The rush was immediate and intoxicating. The landscape below became a blur of green and brown, wind roaring past as he cut through the air like a furry missile. What really amazed David most was how little stamina this Wildsoul-fueled flight consumed, at least when traveling in a straight line. It was a far cry from his early days of exhaustion after even short flights.
Speed-focused Evolution, you're a little bit addictive, aren't you?
In less than an hour of focused flying, David had arrived at his destination. His Empowered Cuddlebug spy was still hidden motionless in the trees, keeping a watchful eye on the giant serpent coiled grumpily under a thick stand of trees. As David circled overhead, he mentally recalled the tiny scout. The Cuddlebug emerged from its hiding spot, looking positively bedraggled. Its fur was ruffled and its eyes drooped with exhaustion. With a start, David realized the little creature had been awake and on guard this entire time.
"Aw, buddy," David cooed, feeling a pang of guilt at the effort it was clearly taking the poor thing just to fly. "You did good. Here, take the VIP spot."
He gently guided the exhausted Cuddlebug to the comfiest spot between his shoulder blades, where his mane was thickest. The Cuddlebug currently occupying that prime real estate chirped indignantly but grudgingly made way for its weary comrade.
Time to face the music. Or in this case, the potentially very angry, very scaly person.
With no fanfare or elaborate entrance, David called out bluntly, "Coming in for a landing! Don't freak out, please!" Angling his wings, he dived through the tree cover with a precise arc, braking with a overly loud whompf of air.
He touched down about thirty feet from the serpent, his wings kicking up a small cloud of grass and debris. In one fluid motion, David whipped his hind feet forward as he balanced on his wings, tossing the Owl's head so it landed with a soft thud directly in front of the massive creature. The serpent's gaze snapped onto the head reflexively, its coils tightening. For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the faint rumble of thunder in the distance.
"So," David began, trying for casual and missing by a mile, "I hear you've been having some bird problems lately. Thought I'd drop by and let you know the pest control's been taken care of."
The serpent's gaze darted between David and the severed head, its expression a mixture of shock, confusion, and what might have been a hint of grudging respect.
Is it weird I'm getting so good at reading reptile facial expressions? Or would that be body language? Hrmm.
"You..." it finally managed, its masculine voice a low, crackling hiss. "You killed the Owl?"
David nodded, spreading his wings in a 'ta-da' gesture. "Yep. Turns out, he wasn't a fan of my redecorating skills. Or my Miasma. Or, you know, existing in general."
The serpent's coils began to loosen slightly, though David noticed its tail still twitched with nervous energy. "Why?" it asked, suspicion clear in its voice. "Why would you do this?"
David sighed, his ears drooping slightly. "Look, I know we didn't exactly get off on the right foot – or wing, or whatever. But that Owl? He was bad news for everyone. I couldn't just let him... I’m sorry about your friend." He finished lamely with a splay of his wings.
He paused, gauging the serpent's reaction. "Plus, I figured you might appreciate knowing what happened to the guy who... you know." He gestured vaguely at the Owl's head.
The serpent was quiet for a long moment, its gaze fixed on the grisly trophy. Finally, it spoke, its voice softer than before. "Thank you. For this. And for... telling me."
David felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "No problem. Just, uh, maybe don't plan on ambushing me next time we meet? I'm kind of on a tight schedule, and crispy bat isn't on the menu. Maybe just yell ‘Hey Stupid’ or something."
The serpent made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "No promises. But... I'll pass it along."
As David prepared to take off, he couldn't help but feel like he'd just navigated a minefield blindfolded. And somehow, against all odds, he'd made it through without losing any limbs.
Just another day in the life of David, the reluctant bat-monster diplomat.