Sam

Everything was really bright.

Her mouth was so dry. The limelights were beating down on her; blinding, almost. She was hurting, which meant she wasn’t dead, which meant she hadn’t lost yet.

She tried to blink away a blurry film in her vision, but it clung on, and shaking her head with what little force she could muster didn’t help either.

A vague silhouette appeared over her, blocking some of the light. Sam moved instinctively, wrapping her arms around the back of Henke’s neck and pulling him close, killing his leverage. If she could flip him around, get on top…

“Sam.”

She blinked. That voice wasn’t Henke’s at all. It was so familiar. Why couldn’t she remember who it belonged to?

“Sam, let go of me.”

Startled, she let her arms go limp, and they flopped down at her sides, outflung. The person with Will’s voice pushed off her, stood tall. She blinked and blinked, but still couldn’t make out his face.

“The fight is over,” Will said.

“Did I…” Sam coughed, tasted blood. “Did I win?”

“You did.”

“Yay…” She closed her eyes, so very tired. When she opened them everything was all different, as though time had passed. “Are you proud of me?” she asked, unsure if Will was still there.

“I am,” Will replied. “I’m very proud. But you’re hurt, so you need to keep still for me, okay?”

“Okay… I got to Level 6, you know.”

“Level 6?” There was a sudden urgency in Will’s voice. “Are you sure? Not five?”

“Yeahhh…”

“Have you spent your upgrade point yet?”

“Huh? Of course not. I was fighting… just a minute ago.”

“Right. Sam, listen to me. If you get the chance, you need to put another rank in Healing Factor. It’s important.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Say it, Sam. What ability are you going to put your point into?”

“Healing Factor.”

“Good. Drink this.” Suddenly, she found the edge of an earthenware mug pressed to her lips, a foul smell wafting from it.

Sam wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“Medicine,” Will replied tersely. “Drink it.”

“I want water.”

“I’ll give you water after.”

Sam grunted her displeasure, but did as she was told, taking down a big helping of something bitter and viscous in one long draught. Will took the mug away, and handed it back what felt like hours later, filled with water now. She drank greedily, found her lips numbing by the time she was done, as were her limbs.

She was so sleepy all of a sudden. She might have closed her eyes, except there was someone poking the top of her head.

“Who’s doing that?” she asked, annoyed. “Stop it.” She tried to reach back and stop them, but her arm was batted away by a multitude of hands.

“Shhh,” Will urged, stroking the side of her head. “Try to sleep, Sam.”

“Then stop poking me.”

“No one’s poking you. Try to sleep.”

“Yes, you…” The annoyance slipped through her fingers. The world was spinning, throbbing, and everything was so very heavy. Someone had dunked the back of her head in water; her hair was all soaked. Sam tried to make her mouth form words to complain, but her lips wouldn’t do what she told them to, and her tongue was swollen and unwieldy.

She shut her eyes.

* * *

Will

For maybe the first time in his life, Will regretted not being religious as he worked to save Sam’s life.

The whole kitchen was a mess of blood; it seemed as though every surface was covered in it, walls and furniture and people. The room stank with it, cloying and metallic. There was a scramble of activity as Number Three helped manage Sam’s wild thrashing, Number One rushed about fetching bandages, and Mongrel stood around being generally useless, mostly getting in the way.

It wasn’t good. Blood was pooling inside Sam’s skull, putting increasing pressure on her brain. Going by Mongrel’s description of how the finals had gone, Will assumed that one of the countless blows to the head she had taken was the culprit.

She’d had one seizure already, limbs spasming, and she would have fallen off the table if not for Will, Number Three, and Mongrel all holding her down. In this instance, her fearsome strength was terribly inconvenient, since it made her difficult to manage.

As did her Tenacious passive. Will had loaded her with enough sedative to put down a horse, but as long as she didn’t want to go to sleep, she kept thrashing and mumbling nonsense. He didn’t think she even knew where she was.

The pressure on her brain had been allowed to build the entire time they had spent traveling from Sheerhome to the farm, meaning the likelihood of brain damage was high. The fact that her skull had stayed relatively intact meant that it had been difficult to spot the hemorrhage—he'd only known to look for it when she began seizing out.

Using a trephine with a circular, saw-toothed blade, Will cut out a very small piece of Sam’s skull, allowing the blood to drain away into a large, slick puddle on the floor. She finally gave up and went under, which was a good thing—as long as she was unconscious, they could keep her that way by continuously feeding her more anesthesia.

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They got her bandaged up and squared away, and after that there was not much to do but wait and see.

He hoped what she had said about getting to Level 6 was real and not just fever rambling. At Rank 1, Healing Factor sped up the body’s natural recovery mechanisms; only at higher ranks did it offer more advanced regeneration. Will wasn’t entirely sure of the specifics, but it was possible that Rank 2 Healing Factor allowed for recovery of brain cells. He wasn’t sure, though, and there definitely wasn’t time to pop down to the Sheerhome library to double check.

As it turned out during packing, Mongrel had bet not only his own savings, but all of Will’s bugout funds as well. At least he still had the contract money for Philly Upnorth stuffed inside his coat, a little over 10 000G, which would likely be more than enough for their purposes.

They packed some basic food and supplies, and extra sets of things for the other chimps once they reconstituted.

It was definitely not a good idea to move Sam in the state she was in, but they had no choice. They got her on Zero's back, strapped her to the saddle and tied her hands around the mule’s neck to keep her from falling off, then set off north.

Will had been able to recover 2 AP while at the farm, putting him at three total; far from optimal, but better than nothing. It was still too little for him to spend it on reconnaissance; he’d save it for if they needed to protect themselves.

Merchants and guard patrols would begin using the main road come morning, so they were forced to go through rough terrain to avoid detection. Will’s Orienteering passive allowed him to sense the cardinal directions as well as the general features of the land around them, further boosted by his Awareness score of 6, which kept them from getting lost in the dense, sometimes nigh-impenetrable woodland.

He did his best not to think about how exhausted he was. He was done. He’d been done. Even with large doses of Prepared herbal stimulants taken continually to maintain wakefulness, he found that most of the time it was all he could do to stay on his feet and monitor his Orienteering, giving occasional instructions to Mongrel when they drifted off-course.

They were forced to stop frequently, maybe twice an hour, to take short breaks so that Will could catch his breath. He tried to check on Sam when they stopped, but quickly found that he was too out of it to determine much beyond the fact that she was still breathing. His hands were shaking so much that Number One had to be the one to administer her anesthesia.

They walked and rested and walked and rested, and every time they got up Will was surprised that his legs still held. The terrain changed gradually, becoming more hilly as they made their way inland, but Will hardly took notice except for the fact that they had to climb more inclines, slipping on undergrowth made slick by yesterday’s rain.

He hurt all over, joints creaking and screaming with every movement, and his mind was all a delirious mush. If it was only for himself, he probably would have called it quits a while back. Nothing was worth this much misery.

Almost nothing.

If he didn’t keep going, Sam was dead. So he kept going.

Will was zig-zagging up a forested hill, weaving between conifers, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked, and would have fallen with the surprise of it if the hand hadn’t clamped down on his clothes, kept him upright until he found his footing, awkward and splayed.

“Kid!” Mongrel said, sounding urgent. “Did you hear what I said?”

“What?” Will pushed out as a tired sigh, wiping a sheet of sweat off his face.

“Number One says there’s something coming our way.”

Will found it difficult to care. He just wanted to lay down and die. “What kind of something?”

“He doesn’t know. Look, I hate to ask, but do you think you’ve got a Detect left in you?”

Will laughed, since it was either that or cry. No, was the obvious answer. “Yes,” was what he said. “I’ll try.”

* * *

Mongrel

He dragged Will up the hill, carrying him as much as holding him up, and set him down on a rock. He swayed in place, eye never focusing, looking like he was cresting a really shitty high.

The kid had gone back up to 6 AP over the course of their little day trip through the interior—it should have been higher, but his AP regeneration was probably all screwed up on account of his present condition.

“Detect [Life],” Will said in a dry rattle; good eye fluttering, bad one twitching. He probably would have fallen over if Mongrel wasn’t crouched in front of him, holding both his shoulders. He sat there a while, then nodded. “Grinners again,” he said. “More of them this time. About a dozen.”

“Fuck,” Mongrel hissed. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. That’s a big pack.” Grinners usually attacked each other on sight, and would only come together if there were humans to hunt nearby.

“I think the one we let go is with them,” Will explained. “Guess he didn’t throw in the towel. Rounded up some buddies, tracked us down.”

“What do we do? I don’t think we can beat a dozen.”

With a flashing of teeth more grimace than grin, Will tapped the orange SP crystal on his left arm. “I might be able to get it done.”

“Kid…”

“What other options do we have?”

“Run like hell?”

“You know that would never work.”

Mongrel shrugged. He did know that. He just hated the alternative. “Will, listen to me. I won’t pretend I know the first thing about semblances, but I do know they take a lot out of you. In your condition, it might kill you.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

Mongrel wanted to argue. For all Will’s (many) faults, he loved the boy like a son. He’d never thought of it that way, but there it was.

“Here’s the plan,” Will continued, and Mongrel lost his opportunity to veto the whole affair. “We stay put, make them think we’re making a stand. There are more of them this time, but that means they’re more confident, too. They’re not trying to circle us like last time, they’re just coming in a wave from the south, think they’ll be able to bowl right through us.

“That should give us an opening. When they get close, you take Sam and haul ass. I’ll pop my semblance, try to trap all the grinners inside it. I haven't tried it out yet, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to take them all out that way, but in theory I should have a good chance.

“You keep going, don’t stop until you reach Millstone. Barricade yourselves there in case I let some slip, make sure Sam pulls through. If I survive, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. If I don’t show up, don’t come looking for me.”

“If you need to use your semblance, fine, but at least the rest of us can stick around to help. Surely, together, we can…”

“It’s not that kind of semblance. It’ll work better if I’m alone.”

“What do you mean? I—”

“They’re close, Matt. Tell me you understand.”

“I… Yeah. Okay.” Mongrel nodded reluctantly. “I understand.”

“Promise me you’ll keep Sam safe.”

“I promise I will.”

“If I don’t make it, keep going north to Timbryhall. Speak to a woman named Vivi. Ask about Big Deal Buck.”

“What? Why?”

“Just tell me you’ll do it.”

“Well… all right, then.” In a fit of sentimentality, Mongrel took the kid in a tight embrace, clapping him on the back. “Don’t die,” he said, chin resting on Will’s shoulder.

“I won’t,” Will croaked. “I’ve still got a beating to dole out.”

Mongrel sat back on his heels with a grin. “Damn. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

Number Three let out a series of shrill hoots from his scouting position in the treetops. That meant the grinners were close. Number One was with Zero, her reins in one hand and his mallet in the other, gripped just beneath the fat wooden head.

He caught a flash of something black between the trees, then another, and another, and suddenly the forest was alive with them, moving all back and forth in unpredictable patterns so they were impossible to count or keep track of.

“Help me up,” Will said. Mongrel did as he asked, hands still hovering over the lad once he was up on shaky feet in case he decided to fall over. His footing held, though. “Get out of here, Matt. Remember your promise.”

Mongrel nodded. There was no time to argue, and no time for long goodbyes. He turned and ran as the flurry of black shapes closed in, a living noose pulling tight around them. Number One got the mule moving, and Mongrel soon caught up with him as the last chimp slid deftly down a tree trunk to join them, drawing the bow off his back as soon as he was on the ground.

They hoofed it for all they were worth, but they could not go all that quick without rising Zero breaking an ankle on the uneven ground. He looked back and saw Will stand alone as the wave of hatred crashed down on him, some trying to streak past to make for the retreating prey. The steel of his sword shone silver against their black, and somehow, despite everything, he stood tall, as though all the fatigue had melted off him.

He thrust the sword into the earth, then let go of the hilt. The weapon sank down, ground swallowing the blade, then the guard, then the hilt, until it was all gone.

“Semblance Art: Forget Me Not.”

In the blink of an eye, a huge white sphere blinked into existence where Will had been, swallowing a chunk of the forest and all the grinners with it. The process was as instant as it was soundless. Solid and opaque, Mongrel had no way of seeing inside to know what was happening within.

All he could do was have faith that the kid would pull through and keep moving north, soon bringing the white sphere out of sight.