Harmony had asked a few questions, but it didn't take long for the Scouts to get handed over to a set of security guards. While they’d been exonerated, apparently the whole group would have to skip out on conference panels so they could be taken to a safe room, just in case this intruder wound up being dangerous. It wouldn't be right for the ELD to risk their honored guests, after all.
That all sounded reasonable. Maybe even a bit too reasonable, Clover thought, particularly in how quickly they'd transitioned from prime suspects back to fragile guests. Never mind that they were each and every one a licensed Ranger, probably more capable of self-defense than most of the in-house workers.
Walking through the halls in a single-file line made up entirely of Scouts, flanked by a pair of burly fauns in front and a pair of towering centaurs at the back, all wielding spears, she couldn't help feeling like a prisoner more than anything else. And though it took some time, her fellow Scouts eventually seemed to come to the same conclusion. Their talk, jovial and relieved at first, turned into stilted whispers and nervous muttering, the firefly light cast them all in an ominous dim. It didn't help that their blue-clad retainers had rebuffed all attempts at conversation.
"Hey," Sam asked beside her, voice low. Clover glanced his way, noting the pinched look on his face. "Do you have any idea what's happening here?"
His cropped orange hair and broad frame stood in contrast to his meek posture, though it was hard to tell if that's just how he was or if it was due to the severity of their circumstances.
"Why would I know?" she asked, matching his volume.
"You've been kinda weird all day, so I figured you might," he whispered, and Clover had to acknowledge that maybe she hadn't been as subtle about her worries as she'd thought. "Plus, your mom being who she is..."
"Honestly, I'm not sure. But something's definitely wrong. Not just with the intruder, either. Something with the Council."
He looked at her, both skeptical and disturbed, but Clover felt sure of it now. They'd known Bishop was someone with computer access, so the list of suspects was already rather small, and why would Silviamon worry about the computers the moment he heard of a trespasser?
It all stunk. Hopefully Malcolm could give them all the run around long enough for her to figure her way out of this mess.
Soon they made it to a darkly lit chamber, one Clover supposed must be somewhere around the upper levels judging by how long they'd walked up inclined halls, though it was hard to say without windows. At the other end stood a door made of yellow-orange amber, like a glossy bronze rectangle. It was flanked by two other blue-clad security guards on either side, a pair of wolfmen.
She was just about to hit a moment of decision. Clover could feel it, her skin breaking into goosebumps, lungs drawing deep. Two at the front, two at the back, two by the door that lead to what was clearly a cell of some sort. Six against a good fifty.
"We outnumber them," she found herself whispering. Sam turned to her, wide-eyed, and while she didn't turn to face him back she did keep her face firm. "I can keep those two busy while you all take care of the rest."
"What?!" One of the fauns turned back at the sound of Sam's voice, making him cough and smile back with as much subtlety as he could manage. When the guard turned back, he leaned closer to Clover, speaking lower but no less frazzled. "What the heck are you talking about?!"
"We might not get another chance like this," Clover said, and the closer they got to the amber door the more committed she felt to not walking through it. "Help me, and the others might follow our lead."
"Oh my god, you're serious..."
Not a yes, but too late for anything more certain, because now they were right in front of the door and one of the wolfmen went to open it for them. Clover reached into her pocket, fiddling with the seeds she always kept there, and though she felt at once how out of practice she was after a year of sitting every job out she was still ready for action, or as ready as she could be anyway, and the blood pumped against her ears and the door opened and she took one last, long breath, ready to clap her hands, and there in the room beyond she saw her mother huddled against a corner.
Her breath hitched, and her hand froze in her pocket.
In a second Clover walked past the other Scouts and the guards and right through the door and she was there kneeling by this woman she'd worried over for the better part of two days.
Sam watched her go, gasping at the sight of the empty room and the haggard woman inside. "Mrs. Fall?" he said, and heard a few repeat the same behind him, along with 'Daphne' and even a single 'Boss.'
Tall and dark-skinned like her daughter, Daphne Fall looked at them all with bleary eyes. Her face, usually plump, now hung tiredly, laugh lines unused and carved sorrowfully around her lips. Gardening clothes hung loosely on her, spotted with dried mud and grime. Brown eyes passed over the group as if through a veil, before settling on the girl kneeling before her.
"Clover…" Her vision came into focus. "Goodness, girl..."
"Goodness you," Clover said, hugging her. "I didn't know if you were alright!"
Daphne chuckled ruefully. "I don't know that I am alright."
Daphne still accepted Clover's embrace, and the two knelt there as the rest of the Eco-Scouts were escorted into the room. Circular, windowless, and without so much as a chair to furnish the place. It wasn't exactly cramped once they all piled in, but with another ten people it might have been.
"We will inform you when it's safe to come out," one of the faun guards said, spear planted on the ground like a staff. "Until then, stay calm. Food and water will be provided within the hour."
His part played, the faun stepped back out of the room, and the amber door closed heavily behind him. The Scouts looked at each other, uncertain and scared, perhaps stunned at having been so easily trapped, and with their consent no less. Sam stood among them, looking at the door still, thinking he should've listened to Clover while he had the chance.
- - - — MKII — - - -
From what Red had seen, there were two roles in a battle: the attacker, and the defender. The former, as far as he was concerned, always held the advantage. It also had always looked by far the most fun of the two.
That's why he kept trying to go on the offensive, but it was proving a lot harder than he'd like. Instead, Red was stuck twisting around the glinting thrusts of Lorcana's silver lance and ducking under the swiping claws of her snarling chimera. He met this florid dance of knives with the stray punch or two, but even what little damage he could dish out was glancing at best, and it always earned him a cut for his trouble.
One such cut now sliced across his arm, ripping off what little remained of that sleeve with a splash of blood.
Okay, time to make a move. Red psyched himself up, knowing he'd probably get stabbed a little bit for this, and with a great heave threw himself at Khurang. The chimera reared back, surprised at the sudden aggression, and took Red's tackle right on the chest. The two rolled down across the platform, wrestling in a growling heap, and Red felt more than a few claws rip at his back.
Well, it was either that or stay on defense for who knew how long, so Red took it with a grunt and pinned Khurang below him as best he could. The beast was large—big enough to eat him whole—but all that animal muscle served only to buck as he got held down, then punched once, twice, and that was as long as Lorcana let Red get away with it.
She pointed her lance at him, and Red had just enough time to roll off the chimera before it speared a few strands of hair off his head, its point stretched a good ten yards.
Red fell on his arm and rolled to his feet, ready for more, but luckily neither enemy made to continue. He watched cautiously as Lorcana shrunk her lance back down, laying a hand on Khurang as the beast snarled and got its paws under it.
"It's not common for Khurang to be so thoroughly manhandled," Lorcana said, fingers combing through the chimera's white mane as it stood unsteadily beside her. "You make a good showing, human."
Red tried to ignore the sting of his back, not to mention all the other places his skin had been sliced open. He reached over and, with one pull, ripped off his hoodie's remaining sleeve, throwing it off the platform. It fluttered briefly in the high breeze, then grew damp against the soft drizzle and heavy mist that had by now filled the sky, falling along with it into the darkness below.
"You can't take much more," Lorcana said, looking at the blood pooling at his feet.
Smiling, Red raised his fists. "Don't be too sure I can't win. You can cut me up a bunch, but all I need to do is get my hands on you once."
Lorcana, surprisingly, met his smile with one of her own. "I find myself agreeing. You do make good prey."
That said, she threw herself up onto Khurang's back, and with a roar the beast spread his wings and leaped off the platform. Confused, Red dashed after them, stopping short at the edge, looking around at the rain and the fog. Did they run away?
The thought lasted barely a second before something in the dark shone with what little moonlight was left. Red stumbled out of the way right as Lorcana's silver lance pierced from far beyond into the trunk behind him. It then shrunk back as quickly as it had come, and Red regained his footing just as another thrust came at him, one he had to duck under.
So that was her game. She'd keep stabbing from the dark and out of his range while he stood perfectly defenseless, like some kind of sick, reverse wack-a-mole.
Red bent out of the way of yet another quick stab. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see past the filter of rain, seeing only a large, passing shadow and hearing only the muffled beat of great wings. "This is super unfair!"
A response came in the form of another silver thrust, one that grazed his shoulder. Well, he wasn't really in the mood to talk either. For once he had to actually think things through.
Lorcana kept trying to spear him about as fast as her lance allowed, extending and shrinking back in an almost rhythmic beat, and each stab came from a different direction. Perks of flying around. Sometimes the silver tip would spike into the tree wall, other times it would come from above and down through the platform, leaving behind perfectly round holes with a small pop of sawdust.
Red kept dodging, head churning for some strategy, and that all started with assessing the situation. First, he couldn't see where the attacks came from. Even if he could have seen it, he probably couldn't have done anything about it. Second, there was nothing nearby to throw, assuming his aim would be good enough to hit a moving target. If only he could get his hands on something.
Still thinking, Red twisted as another silver stab cut into his torso, ripping a hole right through the one shirt he owned. The same stab slammed into the trunk, and Red narrowed his eyes when he saw how—in that brief interval—the lance seemed to pause, if only for a moment, before retracting into the mist.
Maybe... Well, why not?
Red didn't have to wait long until Lorcana sent another thrust at him, and this was his chance. Once the lance came, he leaned out of the way like usual and, grinning, snaked out a hand to grab the shaft while it paused in that brief interval as it embedded itself on the wood.
Then, when the time came for it to retract, he kept a tight grip and simply allowed himself to be taken away by it, flying off the platform and into the cloud of rain, right to the source. Water smacked at him as he went. Red saw a shadow growing beyond it in his vision, so he drew back a fist, and once he saw Lorcana's suddenly shocked face he punched out at it with enough force to blast away some mist in a puff of air.
Unfortunately, she wasn't lacking in reflexes. His fist sailed by as she leaned her head aside, so that Red felt the fleeting brush of feathers but not much else.
Lorcana held the lance out, extending it just enough to get him out of her reach. They all hung there in the air, Lorcana on her chimera as it flapped against the rain, Red pulling himself up by the lance and looking rather sheepish.
Staring at him, Lorcana shook her head, bemused. "And now how do you suppose you'll get back?"
Hanging there with his feet in the air, Red could admit it was a fair question. "I'm still working on that." Then, hesitantly, "Um, would you mind putting me back down?"
"That's quite audacious," Lorcana said, and it was hard to tell whether she sounded impressed or exasperated. "I suppose you've been in a few scraps, child, but you don't have much experience in this area, do you?"
"What area?"
"Fighting for your life," she said, and with that she extended the lance a bit more, taking it with both hands and holding it out like an overgrown baseball bat.
Gasping, Red tightened his own grip as it moved him farther from her, kicking at the air for leverage that wasn't there.
When Lorcana swung the lance around, Red just barely held on in a desperate pendulum. She swung the lance again and again, fast enough to push waves aside each time, and Red grabbed at the silver shaft now with both arms, hugging it to him as he flew in circles through the rain. It was hard enough to hold on, drenched as he was and smooth as the lance felt, but Red kept a white-knuckled grip for the same reason he kept his eyes closed all the while, refusing to look down at the nothingness below. That would be a very, very long fall.
"I'm not dumb enough to let go!" he shouted, as much to Lorcana as to himself, though his stomach spun.
Lorcana grit her teeth and looked back at the World Tree nearby. "Then I'll just have to scrape you off like the bug you are!"
Red made to ask what that meant, but her words were made clear when she, at full speed, extended the lance further and swung again, smacking him against the giant trunk wall of the World Tree. The boy felt his breath wheedle out, and before he could at least let go of the lance near solid ground he was pulled out into the void again, then got smacked against the wall a second time. A moment later came a third.
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Each hit against the bark produced a small crack and an explosion of splinters, and each also wore away at what remained of Red's bearings. Sure, the pain was one thing, but no one could go through half of this without getting dizzy, and at this point Red had completely forgotten the meaning of up or down.
Perhaps feeling this, or perhaps wanting to gloat at how thoroughly dominant she'd been so far, Lorcana retracted her lance fully and held it out before her like a flag. Red hung there limply, holding on by sheer force of will, crosseyed and green in the face, looking down at her as if through blurred lenses.
Khurang gave a victorious roar, and with her free hand Lorcana patted the loyal beast, who she knew hated getting wet for anything less than her sake.
"Well, human?" she asked. "Do you see now how hopeless—"
Red threw up directly on her face.
It wasn't something he could control—his stomach had taken it upon itself to make its protests known. Groaning and panting, Red managed to focus his vision just enough to see the results: a now completely stoic Lorcana splattered with thick green, feathers stuck together in the stuff. Luckily for her it was raining, and the falling water did its work, steadily washing off the gunk. Still, judging by her pinched expression, it was pretty clear what she thought of how things had gone here.
For his part, Red wasn't exactly happy about it either. "I'd say I was sorry," he said slowly, "but let's be honest, you sorta asked for it."
Lorcana closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again, then with a furious yell extended her silver lance and brought it up over her head.
Yelping, Red got pulled along and had barely enough time to ready himself before the beastwoman brought the weapon down like a hammer, slamming it right through a section of the spiral platform nearby. He broke through in an implosion of splinters and demolished planks, and only now—due to both surprise and a failed constitution—did his grip finally slip.
On one hand, the platform he'd broken to did spiral around the World Tree's trunk, so falling from one level only had him fall down to the one underneath it. On the other hand, that lower level was a good fifty yards below.
Landing with a single loud, wet bounce, Red groaned, drenched and bleeding on solid ground. His skin still stung all over from the cuts and scratches, and now he was sure to bruise all over just as much. Lorcana was still out there in the mist and rain, he knew, hidden from his sight once more.
Damn it. While the marks of her offensive riddled his body, all he had to show for his efforts was a green splash coloring her shirt.
"R-Red?"
Looking over, Red saw Dimple there, riding atop Bessie. All the luggage was still piled up on the cargo bed, and the scrawny minotaur seemed more shocked than ever to see him. Well, Red had just technically fallen from the sky, so he supposed that was fair.
"Hey, Bull Boy," he said, grimacing and holding a sprained shoulder. "Thought I told you to get outta here."
Dimple gulped, looking around him at the platform, the raining sky. "I was d-doing that. I thought you were... with Lorcana?"
"Yep. She's out there somewhere. Not gonna lie, kinda kicking my ass."
"... Sorry?"
"Eh. It's a process."
Just then, a silver lance shot out from the sky, headed right towards him, and Red dodged it again with a curse. Back to this, then?
Dimple watched the lance retract into the shrouded mist beyond the platform, almost falling off Bessie's saddle in surprise. The giant snail itself didn't do much better, shying away from Red with an insistent mewl, and Dimple had just enough time to pull at the reins before it crawled them right off the platform.
"W-Watch out!" Dimple said, though by now the silver point was long gone.
Red's eyes searched the shifting veil of water and vapor. Would she just keep doing this forever?
Another idea nagged at him, and despite his ragged clothing, despite the sharp hurt of his injuries, despite his own uncertain vision, he smirked over at Dimple, hand up and fingers signing peace. "Take it easy, Bull Boy. I just figured it out."
Another shot of the lance came from the mist. Good. Red dodged, then ducked under then next one, getting back into the old rhythm.
Lorcana had reason to be confident. It was technically two on one, and she had the range, and she could fly. It was a crushing advantage, as every bit of their engagement so far had proven. She must've thought him so helpless, being attacked from where he couldn’t see. Nothing but prey in her hunt. A game.
Well, Red could play too, if given enough time to learn the rules.
The next lance shot came. Red dodged and saw it spear through the platform by his feet. He reached out and grabbed it, same as last time. Except, now he was the one to pull. And he pulled hard.
With a cheerful shout, Red swung the lance by the shaft just as Lorcana had, and just like her, he slammed the weight he felt at the other end straight up on the World Tree's trunk, feeling the satisfying squish of bodies smack into a solid wall. Then he pulled back, swinging the lance back over the edge of the platform, and with a sharp breath swung it at the tree again, and again, and again, using it like a long hammer.
He didn't feel much resistance once he was done, but he did feel the brief pull of the lance as it sought to shrink back into proper shape. He let it go, watching the thing shoot off into the darkness above, and there he could see the vague impressions of a shape cast with the little firefly light that still remained outside among the rain.
That vague impression grew as it fell, splitting in the air to form two distinct blurs of movement, and in short order Red saw both land harshly on the platform nearby. Dimple saw them too, and sat gobsmacked at the sight.
One was Lorcana, the great huntress, head of the ELD security forces, lying on the floor and groaning in abject pain, one of her arms bent the wrong way. As for the other...
Khurang lay closer, having almost squashed Bessie, but unlike Lorcana he expressed his own pain in blatant anger, one he remained fully capable of expressing. One of his wings broken, the chimera rose on unsteady paws, his great lion's face snarling at Dimple, eyes unfocused and wild, slobbering blood dripping down his maw.
A wild animal. That's what Khurang was, and his bond with Lorcana only just kept a leash on him. Now, with that bond strained by mutual disorientation, Dimple for the first time saw why all ELD residents were told to keep their distance from the beast.
The chimera seethed. Then he leapt, fangs sharp and red-splattered, claws sprouting and gnarled. Dimple sat there on his saddle, completely frozen, all feeling abandoned as death came closer, closer...
Stopped. Pink froth bubbled in Khurang's mouth right in front of Dimple, great teeth closing again and again like a bear trap, but coming no nearer.
Feeling steadily returned, and Dimple felt himself move as Bessie pulled away, the snail's own instincts still functioning just fine. When he was finally aware enough to be surprised at his own continued survival, Dimple looked down and saw a small yet stable form pushing against the chimera by the chest.
His shirt a mess of ribbons hanging off a scratch post of flesh, drenched in rain and sweat and crimson, Red held back the raging monster with gritted teeth. Dimple watched him do it, mouth agape. Seeing Red there, holding back the avalanche of white fur and muscle with unyielding strength, he found that he'd never been more glad to be alive now that he almost hadn't been, and he had this boy to thank for it.
But then, shunk!
Dimple stopped, feeling cold. Red hunched, almost crushed by the still snarling Khurang as a silver lance pierced into his stomach and sprouted from his back. Turning, Dimple saw Lorcana still lying there on the platform nearby, face a mask of agony and grim satisfaction, weapon propped against the floor and stretching all the way through Red's body.
"Still inexperienced," she said, breathing heavily. "Don't forget... there are two of us hunting you!"
Red coughed, gagged, and a stream of blood spilled from his lips. He stumbled forward, only barely keeping his balance, bending over the silver lance and almost leaning on it for support. His skin—already paling from the all the prior bleeding—grew nearly transparent.
It was too much. This was what Dimple should want, the thing that everyone else would like, but it was too much. A boy no older than himself, broken and bloody, dying right before his eyes.
Alexander had told his nephew that they were a family of warriors. Heroes. Monsters. Fathered by Zeus, betrayed by humans. Even now their ancient ancestor was said to still be trapped in his labyrinth prison, a being too strong to be let free, cursed to wander the dark in solitude. Dimple had been told, by both his father and his uncle, that he should seek to protect the weak, use the great strength of their kind for the benefit of others.
But what had happened instead? Dimple sat and watched as someone else protected him, because what he lacked in strength he lacked doubly in even the courage necessary to run away. He'd frozen, unable to decide in the face of fear, and Red had paid for it.
He always, always froze. But Red hadn't, and why not? Dimple had betrayed his trust. What did Red have to gain from defending him?
Unbidden, Dimple felt tears dabbing at his eyes. "Red... I'm sorry..."
The Ranger shook, arms trembling, shoulders dipping low. The rain came hard now, waves of water slamming against the World Tree, coming down the spiral platform like a shallow river. But when a streak of light next flashed across the sky, Dimple saw in the momentary brightness that Red was looking back with a bloody smile.
"Bull Boy," Red said, panting, looking at the minotaur over his shoulder. "That's... a funny look on your face. Don't look so worried..."
Even now... Even at the literal brink of death, Red still looked like he was having fun. God, he was practically bubbling with it. Dimple could tell just from that look, from the fire in his eyes that still shone, one lacking the dim of despair or even anger. No, he looked pleasantly surprised.
The lance pulled back, leaving a gaping hole that kept spouting blood, and Red added to it when he threw up a bit more for good measure. Still, he retained that smile, closing his eyes. "I always wondered what I'd do... if things ever got this bad."
Allowing himself a brief respite there, barely holding up the chimera, Red felt the rain wash his body and sting against his many wounds. He felt tired, wet, nauseous, covered in aches.
But above all, he felt grateful. He'd always known he lived in a strange world, if only because he could not help noticing that he himself was strange. He'd known the mark on his cheek wasn't normal, known his power was special, known the way he grew up was probably as unique as it got. He'd known, in his heart, that he was meant for something more, something wonderful. The regular world was too boring, too ordinary in its challenges. He didn't care about being good at something, nor did he care about the kind of success everyone else seemed to.
Safety, stability, fame, fortune, power. None of it was worth the effort, because none of it filled him to the bones with pleasure or excitement. None of it made his blood boil, made him happy about the mere fact of his existence. He didn't want to do something for something else, some prize that would come after, some extraordinary product created by a mundane effort he'd otherwise despise. If the doing wasn't worth it all on its own then it wasn't worth doing at all.
And this was worth it. This pain, this challenge, this thrill.
Red was strange, but if he belonged anywhere, he now knew it was here.
Fighting for his life.
And if he wanted to stay here, if he wanted to fee the exhilaration of looking over the brink of total failure, of coming face-first with real risk, of putting in everything he had to give without really knowing if it would actually work—if he wanted that, there was only one way to get it.
Tired, wet, nauseous, aching as he was, Red. Would. Just. Have. To.
Win.
Nose flaring, he breathed a lungful of air. Spirit surged, a jitter in his chest that went down his arms and legs, over his skin, into his heartbeat, and when Red opened his eyes he threw his head up and roared.
So loud was it that Khurang, propped up by him, had to pause a moment before responding in kind. The two struggled and roared against each other, both weakened.
But the main difference, aside from size, was that one pushed downward while the other pushed forward. Propped up as he was by Red, Khurang's leverage came exclusively from his hind legs, and that allowed the former to march ahead one agonizing step at a time, steadily dragging the beast like a lineman dragging a blocking sled. The water streaming along the floor helped, offering little friction for Khurang to retain himself.
Soon the two neared the edge of the platform, and the chimera's roars went from savage to panicked. One of his back paws almost slipped off, finding purchase back on the wooden panels with renewed desperation.
Red knew as much as Khurang did that it would only take one more push. So, he gave it. "You're a cool pet and all, but I think I'm more of a dog person!"
That last word stretched into a shout, and with one last heave Red shoved Khurang the rest of the way off the platform. The chimera went down, front claws slamming forth and trying to find purchase on the edge. His lion's face roared one final time, looking up at Red with primal hatred and fear. Then the pounding rain and his own massive weight dragged him all the way off with the shrill scratch of wood, claws cutting deep grooves, fighting to the end.
One last roar and he was gone into the dark, his falling cries an echo in the storm. Red looked on as the beast fell, thunder booming above.
Suddenly, a shrill scream of rage, and something cutting at the air with a sharp ring.
Red sighed. One last thing left to do.
Without even looking, Red raised a hand and caught the lance shaft, stopping it dead, the sharp tip an inch away from his ear. It trembled in his hand, both from the force of its extension and the shaky grip of its owner. Turning to face her, Red saw Lorcana now holding the lance up from her place on the floor, glaring at him with shock and anger, face drawn tightly in its feathered nest.
"You called me inexperienced?" he said, grip tight on the lance. Slowly, he reached up and grabbed it with his other hand too. "Guess that's true, but even I can picking up on your moves if you keep doing 'em over and over."
"You've lost even as you've won, human," Lorcana said, gasping as she drew herself up to one knee. Lightning arched nearby, casting her in an instant of bright distinction. Her eyes, narrowed and hawkish, now trembled with as much disbelief as anger. "There are more who will come and fight! They'll finish what I've started here!"
At this, Red smiled wide. "Sounds like something worth looking forward to."
He held the lance out before him, muscles taut. A momentary pause. Then Red yanked on the lance, throwing its tip behind him, tossing it right over the platform. Holding onto it at the other end, Lorcana flew up off the ground and into the air along with her weapon, trailing it with one hand on the handle like an anthropomorphic flag.
His hand curled into a fist, and Red reared his arm all the way back as she came. In a moment she was there in front of him, so he stomped a foot forward, turned his hip, gave a final yell, and punched the ever living daylights off her face. All of Lorcana's momentum immediately reversed, and in a second she flew back the way she'd come, this time well and truly unconscious long before she landed on the platform and rolled to a limp stop.
Blood dribbled from her lips, her nose, even a bit from her eyes and ears. The rain washed it all down along with it. Red watched out for any more sudden moves, but the beastwoman remained on the floor, knocked out cold.
Red stood there, heaving. Then he spoke, voice soft.
"Ha... Good fight..."
Adrenaline wearing down, Red now put a hand on his side where Lorcana's spear had stabbed through his body. He pressed down to try and stem the blood, though he could only do so weakly. After a few seconds, he sunk to his knees, and for the first time that night the rain washing over him actually felt refreshing.
Dimple sat on his saddle, looking on. When lightning next struck, he saw pictured there on the platform a wounded and exhausted figure, one with clothes coated in blood, shirt made nothing but a tattered string of cloth over one shoulder.
But still that back, cut and purpled as it was, set itself proudly, stalwart in victory.
Shaking his head, Dimple reached back and opened one of the bags in the cargo bed, pulling out a handful of clothes. He leapt off the saddle, patting Bessie once to comfort the poor snail, who still shook from the shock of all the intensity surrounding it. Running, he reached Red and came to a knee beside the boy who had saved his life, wrapping the clothes around bloody wounds. "That... That was..."
"That was awesome," Red muttered, words slurred, "but this part kinda sucks..."
"You get what you wish for, human."
That voice sounded all too familiar. Dimple froze, hands paralyzed against Red's wound. Slowly, he turned around.
There, completely unbothered by the rain or the wind, stood Harmony. Their marble face lacking in all expression, yellow eyes stared first at the unconscious Lorcana, then at the nearly unconscious Red, then at Dimple, who wasn't unconscious but was now at great risk of soiling himself.
Behind them stood a good half dozen Greenkin, all dressed in the blue of ELD's security force.
"Well then, little seedling," Harmony said. "Would you mind explaining what it is I've found here?"
Looking up at them, Dimple struggled to find his voice. Once he did, all that came out was a low, shaky groan. Next to him, Red joined in with his own, though for an entirely different reason. Barely conscious as he was, Dimple wondered if the boy even realized he’d survived such an arduous battle only to fall right into even more danger.