“Guys… wait…” Tuxedo Cake wheezed as he struggled to keep up with the other two rangers.
“Shut up and drink your healing potion! They’re getting away!” Wichita snapped.
Chandra growled.
Tuxedo Cake gulped his one potion down.
Healing warmth spread in his chest bringing with it the ability to breathe without stabbing pain.
“That’s what I’m saying,” he hurried to cut them off before they could leave the entry hall. “Listen,” he used his big frame to block them, “it sounds like a fucking battle outside. Which means they aren’t getting a clear shot out of here. They’ll definitely be slowed down. Which means we can get some back up at least. If you two are cool with just bailing on Sgt. Mouthy, Swanny… and Neckbeard… I guess. You remember them, right? They’re in there,” he gestured back the way they had come, “in the middle of a crazy battle with the most dangerous people in this shithole.”
That’s right, he thought, taking on the Meat Parade was actually the lesser danger.
“They killed my family,” Wichita said.
“Them specifically?”
“No, the Meat Parade. Those church freaks put us on the wall. Where the cannibals murdered my dad and brother. Me and my mom were next, but Cal saved us,” she ground out.
“They killed mine,” Chandra snarled. “I remember them. Five. They slaughtered almost everyone when we were hiding in Heddy’s. The Furies saved me. Killed two. The other three are getting away while you bitch. Do what you want, but get out of my way!” she snapped.
It’ll probably be fine, he thought. Yeah, safer out there than inside the great hall. We’re not strong enough to hang with the over 40’s. I’ll just put in a call. The others are supposed to be flying around out there, they could back us up. But… how will they spot us in the mess? It’s raining. It’s dark. Everyone is fighting. It’ll be fine. They’ll find us.
“Okay. Let’s go,” he shrugged.
“It’ll be fine. We’ve got flyers out there,” Wichita patted his arm, “put in a call and they can back us up.”
Tuxedo Cake did just that, struggling to fill the ranger in on the other end of the line as he ran to keep up with the other two.
The Slaver King’s estate was consumed in battle.
Massive canvas tents meant to shield party goers from the rain burned. Torn flaps whipped in the winds as water pelted down from the heavens.
The gods were angry.
Slavers fought the recently freed.
Collared monsters and mutant animals attacked everyone.
A well dressed family stood surrounded by an ever-dwindling ring of bodyguards, trying and failing to keep the monsters at bay.
They had fought well, killing monsters by the dozens in the short minutes since they had fled the chaos of the great hall.
But, they had expended Skills, drained stamina.
Weapons grew heavy.
Spell use slowed to a stop as pain stabbed from the rapid expenditure of mana.
Ugly, stinky ape-like things came hooting out of the darkness.
Many.
Too many.
They overwhelmed the beleaguered bodyguards and fell on the family.
The screams were swallowed by the storm.
Nobles.
Monsters cared nothing for their wealth and power, real and imagined.
The rangers ran on.
They passed a frothing woman astride a richly-dressed man’s chest. His eyes leaked red gore around her thumbs as she frantically smashed the back of his head into the cobblestone pathway.
So intent on her revenge, she didn’t notice the stalking shadow, vaguely cat-like.
Tuxedo Cake saw it.
“Taunt!”
The monster sprang.
Not at the woman, but at him.
He took the whirling dervish of teeth and claws on his cracked shield.
“Some help!”
Chandra slashed.
The shadowy monster went up like dry tinder.
The sound it made quivered Tuxedo Cake’s bravery for a moment.
“Hurry they’re getting away!” Chandra’s spittle sprayed his face.
He was about to argue.
They couldn’t just let people die… right?
That wasn’t what they had been taught.
He glanced back at the woman.
She had to have been enslaved.
The rich-looking fat guy was probably the slaver and all the horrible stuff that meant.
“We have to help—”
He saw it then.
An armed group had joined the woman, gave her a weapon. One of many taken from dead slavers’ hands.
They regarded him with narrowed eyes.
At least they’re organizing and working together, he thought. Safer in numbers…
He nodded before hurrying after the other two.
Somehow they stayed on the Meat Parade’s trail through the chaos of snarling monsters, snapping bullets and exploding spells.
They caught up near a huge tent.
The pet fun zone area from what he remembered from the map the slavers had provided.
The cannibals’ way down to the inner gatehouse was blocked by others.
----------------------------------------
A Little While Earlier
Things happened.
Familiar words Hillary said to herself when things went bad.
She didn’t remember when she had started the habit.
She thought it must’ve been something her brother had said to her when trying to explain to a child why there were monsters out there and why she would never see certain people again.
Things happened.
Like they had back in the dining hall.
Would she ever see her fellow Watch members again?
Commander Lawrence, Rebekah, Jake, everyone had tried to forbid her from coming along, but she was eighteen. Old enough and more importantly the best techmage from a talent and expertise standpoint. The only thing Jake had on her was levels and experience. They had needed her. Subsequent events had proven it. They wouldn’t have been able to sneak their gear into the banquet without her work.
Most of her remaining family.
The ones that had been with her for as far back as she could remember.
Were they going to die like her brother?
Things happened.
No one had said that when they had brought her brother’s body back from across the wide ocean.
Why had Ron left her?
She had asked before.
He had said something about ‘doing the right thing’ and owing people for what they did in giving her a safe place to grow up and be a child as best as possible in a spires world.
And whom did he owe?
Stern Commander Lawrence?
Scary Cal Cruces?
Both and others.
She had to live up to Ron’s legacy.
They had to succeed and she had to do everything in her power to make it so.
Otherwise what did he die for?
Things happened.
Her earliest memory came back unbidden.
Two years old.
Sleeping in her big girl bed.
A princess race car with toadstools.
She didn’t really remember it from that time.
She only remembered it after she was several years older when she had accompanied her brother back to their parent’s house for the last time to grab a few mementos.
She mostly remembered the dried, dark streaks and patches on the floors and walls. The claw marks on the same.
It took her back.
Pain and terror in the night.
Frantic shouts and screams.
Arms desperately picking her up out of the tiny gremlin’s grasp.
Tossing her in the closet.
Using their body to block the door and keep her safe.
Snarling.
Wet sounds.
Hours in dark terror.
Then…
Loud bangs.
A door ripped open.
Her brother and his fellow cops.
She didn’t remember much from the early days.
Things happened.
She aimed and squeezed the trigger on her spell rifle.
The bright beam disintegrated the Slaver King’s fighter.
Seven.
That made seven people she had directly killed in the last however many of minutes.
Seven more than she had on her tally.
She felt nothing in the moment.
Bad people.
Kill them before they did you and your family.
“You dropped stealth,” Cara said.
“It’s okay. It was running out soon anyways,” she didn’t see any immediate threats in their vicinity so she chanced a glance back.
Ginessa was looking better.
Oscar carried the short woman, while Tobin ran alongside, feeding Ginessa blood bag after blood bag.
No more burned and charred flesh.
She was back to her perfect light brown complexion.
“Hurry!” Cara urged.
They reached the pet fun zone tent quickly.
“No guards,” Oscar held them up with a closed fist, gun pointed at the entrance. “Too quiet.”
“I smell blood,” Cara sniffed.
“Same,” Ginessa said.
Such quick healing.
One would’ve never been able to tell that she had taken a face full of magic fire a few minutes ago.
Well… not counting the burned dress.
Thankfully, for modesty’s sake, Tobin had packed an extra jacket in her smartphone of holding.
“I’ll go left,” Hillary said, switching the disintegrate spell unit with the magic missile one.
Multiple projectiles with auto tracking was better when breaching a large space.
“I’ll cover the rest,” Oscar followed her to the entrance.
He tapped her on the shoulder and she burst in, spell rifle aimed.
No hostiles.
Just dead bodies on the ground.
Men and women wearing the Slaver King’s uniforms.
Cara pushed past them calling out for her pets.
The cages in the large tent were empty.
Movement.
Hillary snapped her rifle to the sound.
The lights at the far end of the tent had gone dark.
Eye shine greeted her.
Tall, almost eye-to-eye.
“Don’t shoot!” Cara pushed her spell rifle down.
Licorice padded out of the shadows.
The massive mastiff mix’s black fur was ruffled and stained wet.
More of the red matted the fur around his mouth. When he opened it in joy at the sight of Cara it became clear that it was blood.
The dog’s back end shimmied in that happy way as he rushed up to bump his massive side into Cara.
He was careful to avoid getting the blood on her.
No licks or nuzzling like he’d normally do.
“Where—”
The question died on Cara’s lips as more animals came out of the darkness.
Goldy landed next to her for scritches.
The two cats, Cinnamon and Chocolate slinked out, purring as they rubbed against her legs.
“They are bloody as fuck. I hope that’s mostly someone else’s,” Oscar said.
“What happened here?” Tobin said.
It seemed obvious to Hillary.
Dead slavers with bite and claw marks.
The cage latches looked torn.
“Pet rebellion,” she nodded sagely. “Class-boosted pets realized the danger their owners were in out there, so they went to save them.”
“Eh… then why didn’t these guys come help Cara?” Oscar said.
Licorice growled, giving the young man a baleful look.
“No offense,” he added hastily.
“They knew I was coming here, so they waited. That way I wouldn’t have had to worry about finding them,” Cara said with a certainty that Hillary was dubious on.
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No matter.
It was time to go.
They took a moment to help the animals into their armor and weapons before heading out toward the gatehouse.
The plan was simple.
Find a secure enough landing zone and call in evac from the rangers.
They hadn’t gotten far when they ran into a small group of familiar people.
Grotesque forms were a dead give away.
Meat Parade.
Things happened.
----------------------------------------
Michael cursed.
Britt agreed.
Someone up there wasn’t being very nice to them.
She recognized the giant monster of a dog more than the people.
Silver Division competitors, at least the young woman with the dog and the eagle and two cats.
The Watch… or something like that.
Everyone had a name.
Some dumber than others.
Most tended to be pretentious, over-selling their abilities.
The Watch had one of the tables closest to the Slaver King’s little platform show.
She didn’t know the connection, but she remembered they had been really pissed off by that naked, one-eyed chick chained to the X.
“Listen,” she began, “we don’t want a fight. You go your way. We go ours.”
“Behind us, incoming,” Michael whispered, “less than a minute.”
“Meat Parade,” the young woman wielding the futuristic looking rifle said.
The weapon smelled magical.
Dangerous.
Britt tried to keep the irritation down.
Meat was always acting like they weren’t meat.
She hated pretentious people.
“Little girl, all this fighting is really working up our appetites. You don’t want to be the ones the fills the bottomless pit in our stomachs, do you?”
The Watch remained silent, wary.
She took the moment to study them.
A little, hot chick in a tattered dress and an over-sized leather jacket smelled distinctly inhuman. However, she wasn’t giving off really dangerous vibes.
Two fighter looking people., a young man and a young woman with guns.
The one with the animals, which wore armor and appeared to have weapons affixed to their talons and paws.
Those were probably the biggest threat.
They’d have Skills.
The Watch in their way.
The rangers quickly catching up.
Surrounded by fighting slavers, former slaves and monsters.
Thousands of moving parts.
Killing each other.
Trying to get away.
A single gatehouse visible in the distance, which was jammed with vehicles and people.
Fortunately, they could just climb the walls.
“You all know the plan. If you can’t control yourself then I’m not waiting to drag you out with me, Randall,” she regarded the newly-recovered flesheater. “Which is to say, transform if you haven’t already. We’re going for the walls. Don’t stop to play with meat. Crush, kill, grab a bite, whatever, but no stopping.”
“Parade time,” Randall licked his long tongue across sharp teeth, drawing blood.
Britt fired off a barrage of light arrows before transforming.
The full flesheater form traded efficacy in casting her spells for an exponential increase to her physicals and the Skills connected to it.
A magic shield flared from the young woman with the fancy rifle, eating the spray of light arrows.
“Iron Fur, Licorice!”
The dog bristled, leaping in a blur of motion that belied its massive size.
It caught Randall mid-leap, huge muzzle clamping around his shoulder and much of his chest.
Sparks flew as Randall slashed while the pair tumbled wildly across the muddy grass.
“Prey’s Terror,” Charlie rumbled, her words distorted by her now over-sized mouth.
The effect was instantaneous.
The Watch froze.
The two cats yowled and leapt behind their owner.
Even the eagle flapped away from its aborted attack dive, screeching in panic.
They knew who were the true predators.
The parade rushed forward, eager for the kill.
Skills activated.
The scent of fresh meat soon to be devoured filled them with sublime pleasure.
Britt lost grasp of her plans.
Why… with the strength of a fresh meal in their bellies… why not stay?
This entire place was a feast.
So many prey.
So many levels.
Just running around like bleating sheep.
She was feet away from the girl with the fancy rifle.
Clawed hand reaching out to rend and tear sweet sweet chunks of the blessed sacrament—
Until she tripped.
Impossible!
Flesheaters were super predators.
Even the lumbering behemoths like Sarah, moved with quickness and agility beyond their sheer mass.
The muddy ground and slick grass shouldn’t have been a problem.
Britt scowled, spitting mud.
She could have sworn a hand had grabbed her ankles.
When she looked up the prey was farther away.
What had been in reach was now dozens of feet away.
Deep furrows in the mud showed that she had been dragged.
She looked left and right.
The same had happened to the others.
Charlie looked at her with a question.
One that she didn’t have time to answer for a flaming sword pierced through light armor into Charlie’s back.
The stupid rangers had caught up.
Steam shrouded the fire-haired young woman as the rain drops sizzled.
Although, Britt was sure that the loudest sizzling came from Charlie’s flesh.
“For my family. Burn!” the young woman snarled.
Fire flared blindingly bright for an instant.
Britt failed to shut her eyes quickly enough.
Bright spots danced as she struggled to back away from the intense heat.
“One down. Two more and my most important Quest is finished. My revenge.”
Britt felt the heat heralding the sweep of the blade.
She ducked under it with inhuman quickness, slashing blindly where she guessed the young woman’s midsection was.
Missed.
Thundering footsteps splattered in the muddy grass.
Britt dived to one side.
She knew who was coming to her aid.
Sara roared.
“Intercept!”
The tall young man from the entry hall. His voice rang out right before a loud boom shook the night, echoing the sporadic cracks of thunder in the hovering storm.
Her vision cleared.
The fiery sword traced bright arcs in the darkness.
The young woman’s flaming hair lit her face in shadows like an avenging angel.
Sara’s massive form towered over the two rangers as she hammered into the young man’s round shield while ignoring the burning cuts crisscrossing her body.
Stinging pain in her back drew Britt’s attention away from the fight.
The little hottie in the ruined dress and large jacket retracted her tongue.
Britt caught a glint at the end of the four-foot-long appendage.
What the fuck?
How had she forgotten about that one?
“You don’t want to fight.”
The hottie’s eyes shined in the darkness.
Britt felt the magic try to take hold. She got a sense of what it was immediately.
It probably would’ve worked on Michael. Definitely on Randall. But, she wasn’t into women, so it took a little exertion of her will to break the charm magic before it could sink its nails into her.
Before she could rend the young woman to shreds something heavy hit her in the back.
Teeth and claws tore wildly.
Not her own, but some kind of monster with sharp fur that added to the pain.
Britt snarled reaching back with an over-long arm and ripping the monster off.
She turned, slashed it and bit its throat out before tossing the dying thing to the side.
Where was she?
The young woman was gone.
No visual and nothing of her scent remained.
Blood and guts.
It was hard to remain focused.
“Michael, Sara… retreat… wall,” her enlarge mouth and jaw made her words come out in a guttural growl.
The former stood up from where he was crouched over one of the Watch. Blood dripped from his clawed fingers as the Watch member writhed and made mewling sounds like a dying animal clutching its guts.
Michael turned to run toward the distant wall.
He covered an amazing distance in just a few loping strides when bright orbs streaked from the darkness, burning through his armor and into his flesh.
The young woman with the fancy rifle fiddled with her weapon before aiming and firing again.
This time a beam lanced out and sheared through the back of Michael’s legs just as he got up to run again.
Sara sent the fire-haired young woman flying into the darkness with a bone-crushing kick only for a bolt of blue-white lighting to strike her in the chest.
The dark-skinned ranger had finally made her presence known.
Britt liked to think that under different circumstances they could’ve been cool. Mage sisters should’ve stuck together, after all. The brief thought to capture the other mage and take her back to be converted to the blessed sacrament crossed her mind. Sadly, it looked as though it’d take everything she had just to escape.
Seeing as how more monsters finally reached them.
They swarmed everyone.
Britt struck in the confusion.
A spray of light arrows at the tall young ranger’s back forced the mage to cast a magic shield, which left her open to some kind of giant rat with what looked like a baby’s face.
The creature latched on to her back and only her helmet kept her safe from its biting teeth and piercing claws.
In her struggles she lost focus on the real danger.
Sara leapt high, descending like a meteor.
“Switch Save!”
The rangers switched places in that half instant before impact.
Nearly a ton landed on the tall, young ranger.
Britt doubted that someone in the Silver Division had the Skills to survive that.
She used the monsters as cover, slashing and biting at the ones that were quick enough to touch her.
The young woman with the fancy rifle had cast a shining magic dome around the Watch.
Monsters swarmed over it in a frenzy of teeth, claws, horns and liquids, cracking it slowly.
The huge eagle screeched desperately as it swooped down, snatching dog-sized monsters in its talons before taking them up to the sky and dropping them.
She circled to their rear.
Less monsters and less attention.
She could escape now.
They weren’t paying attention to her.
Maybe grab Michael on the way.
Sara was beyond her reach, lost to the rage and hunger as she sought to crush and devour the dark-skinned mage lighting her up with spells.
Charlie was a charred corpse.
And Randall?
He still fought with the dog.
Escape was the logical, rational, optimal move.
But, she was too far gone in the flesheater form.
Too much pain.
The scent of blood and guts on the wind too alluring.
The hunger needed to be satiated.
She struck the dome where she felt the magic weakening.
A light arrow, followed by a fist.
The dome shattered.
The fancy rifle bathed the monsters in magic fire.
But the Watch’s backs were turned to Britt.
She leapt with a silent snarl on her grotesque face.
Two small balls of teeth and steel claws met her.
Fucking cats! Like tiny blender tornadoes.
They ripped their way across her arms and face.
But, they were just cats, even if they had tiny metal claws over their natural ones and a tiny coat of mail to protect their bodies.
She bit, jaw distending forward like a shark and caught the darker cat by surprise.
Its yowl was cut off as she bit down.
She spat the remaining half out.
It was a shame that it was wearing armor.
“Chocolate!” a woman screamed.
“Tasty… you… next,” Britt growled.
“Cinnamon, Cat Attack Art: Claws of the Whirling Dervish!” the woman roared.
The remaining cat became a tornado in truth.
Armor, clothes, strips of flesh and muscle went flying from Britt as the cat roamed over her body.
The attack ended just as quickly as it started.
Britt looked down at her ruined body. She cocked her head.
“Not… enough…”
She fell on the Watch, trailing strips of bloody attire and flesh.
One stepped forward with shield and gun.
The former blocked her claws, while the latter filled her chest with lead.
Not enough.
Inhuman strength ripped the shield away, overpowering the Skill.
A Skill-enhanced slash ripped the front of the full-faced helmet like paper along with part of the young woman’s face.
“Tobin!”
“You… screamer… scream… for… me,” Britt leered at the teary-eyed pet owner.
The remaining cat yowled and pounced, only to be slapped into the darkness.
A rush of wings, stabbing beak and crushing talons assaulted her face.
She bit and slashed until she was left with a mouthful and handful of bloody feathers.
The great eagle floundered in the red-slicked mud at short distance away.
“Hillary!”
The young woman with the fancy rifle glanced back with a curse.
“I can’t, Cara, if I stop shooting the monsters they’ll—”
“In my belly… or monsters… hard… choice,” she growled.
Her hand blurred to the side of her head, catching the sharp-tipped tongue before it could penetrate her ear.
The hottie had evaded her notice again.
She regarded the tongue.
A small, needle like protrusion peeked out of the narrow end.
Interesting, but now wasn’t the time.
She made to rip the tongue out, but it slipped from her grasp like a slippery eel.
She turned her attention back toward her original target.
Cara thrust a smartphone toward her.
An odd move for what was clearly a pet owner and not a techmage-type.
Perhaps that momentary confusion was what made Britt react too slow to avoid the sword launched from the screen and into her chest.
Cara drew a shotgun and started blasting.
The young woman Britt had thought dying joined in despite only having one eye left peaking out of the bloody ruin of flayed skin, torn meat and broken bones.
Shot and bullets peppered her body.
She retreated, badly injured, in need of the blessed sacrament.
More monsters charged from the distance.
They were yards away when a whistling sound cut through the ever-present patter of hard rain. Like jets of compressed air shooting incessantly.
Mud splattered as the aerial assault tore the ground apart.
The monsters became red mist.
Britt noticed the beating of what sounded like enormous, leathery wings in the darkness.
She looked up and saw the shape.
A flying monster… firing a gun?
Except, no gun was that silent.
Before she could ponder it, piercing pain crushed over her shoulders and into her back and chest.
Up she went in a rush of leathery wings.
She slashed desperately at the arms or legs of the large flying beast, drawing blood through tough scales, but not enough to force her freedom.
Keen ears heard the beating heart and wings of the beast as it took her up into the stormy sky.
Whispers reached her as she strained for anything she could use to get out of this.
“Do we kill her?”
“Negative, Valentine. Captain wants prisoners.”
“Okay, but she’s cutting Maverick. I’m not flying her all the way to base camp like this.”
“Knock her out.”
“How… okay, that’s a good idea, girl, let’s do this.”
Wings folded in a sudden dive.
The wind deafened Britt.
The air was stolen from her lungs.
She struggled to see through the tears in her eyes.
Warm shapes of men and monsters dotted the landscape.
Warmer still were the torches on top of the wall, which was a cold and dark thing in her predator’s sight.
A cold and dark thing that grew quickly.
The pressure around her chest suddenly released, along with the sting of withdrawn claws.
She—
Stone crumbled around the flesheater as she fell to the muddy ground, motionless.
“Is she out?” Valentine said.
The drake vocalized.
“She’s out,” he confirmed as he guided Maverick down to pick up their prisoner.
“Ophrys to command. One Meat Parade flesheater captured. Requesting orders.”
“Remain on site. Provide support for rescue operations.”
“Ask them if Chandra, Tuxedo and Wichita are okay?” Valentine said.
Ophrys relayed the question.
“Wichita’s in the yellow, Chandra’s red, Tuxedo… Tuxedo’s black.”
Valentine muttered a curse.
“Copy that, secured prisoner, we’ll provide support, over,” Ophrys said.
They landed in the middle of a ring of muddy ground that looked like a slaughterhouse floor.
The gun-bearing wyvern circled overhead just in case of more monster attacks.
A second wyvern had landed a squad of rangers, who had chained and bound two other flesheaters, though from their condition it didn’t look like they needed the thick and heavy chains.
A huge black monster of dog trotted out of the darkness to drop a flesheater’s head at the feet of the other two before padding over to what had to be the pet owner.
The Watch gathered around their own fallen.
“They need healing!” a young woman, a girl really, with a spell rifle slung over her shoulder harassed the medics. “And don’t give me that triage bullshit!”
The medic pulled her aside. “Listen, he’s got a gut wound and a bad one, we’re doing what we can, but he needs an airlift back to our base camp,” he explained in hushed tones.
“Okay, then do that!”
“We are. It would help if you didn’t get in our way.”
“What about Tobin?”
“It’s an ugly wound, but she’s not in immediate danger. She’ll have to suck it up until, again, we get her back to base camp.”
“Fine,” the young woman stomped away to join two others.
They knelt around a giant eagle and a cat, both badly wounded.
“I’m sorry, Cara, but they said humans get priority,” Hillary said.
“I understand.” Tears flowed down Cara’s cheeks mingled with the blood of her beloved friends as she did what she could with her first aid kit to clean and bandage their wounds.
Licorice whined as he laid against her side. His armor was torn and bloody, but he could wait. The littler and weaker ones needed help first.
“Here, healing spells,” Hillary handed a pair of smartphones, one to Cara and one to Ginessa. “They’re too weak to do anything for Oscar and Tobin.”
“Will they be okay? Maybe if we reach out to Cal?”
“If he could help he’d already be here or he would’ve been before all this happened,” Cara said flatly.
Hillary didn’t like the empty look in the other woman’s eyes.
Cara moved almost mechanically in tending to first Goldy, then Cinnamon.
“The rangers are taking everyone back to their base, you should go with them, Cara.”
“Aren’t we going too?” Ginessa’s eyes narrowed.
“You can. I’m going back. Everyone else is still in there.”
“Commander ordered us to leave.”
“Which we did. She never said anything about returning.”
“I’m sorry, Hillary, please don’t be mad at me. I’m only doing what I was asked,” Ginessa said.
“Wait! Wha—”
Ginessa’s eyes shined.
“You don’t want to go back into the dining hall. You want to follow the commander’s orders. You want to remain with your friends to make sure they get the help they need and are safe.”
“Yeah… yeah, of course,” Hillary nodded.
“Commander Lawrence always does her best to look out for us doesn’t she. Even if it all goes bad,” Cara said.
“C’mon, let’s make sure all of us have a seat on that scary beast,” Ginessa sighed.