The cart rolled along at a steady pace, the creak of its wooden wheels cutting through the otherwise quiet atmosphere. The desert landscape had shifted subtly, the barren dunes now interspersed with patches of grass and sparse clusters of trees. It was a strange, beautiful contrast—like the collision of two vastly different worlds. The midday sun had begun its slow descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the land. The blue sky was dotted with wisps of clouds, but the air remained clear and dry.

Despite the beauty surrounding them, the tension inside the cart was palpable. Everyone sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Poca held the reins, sitting at the front of the cart with Carter by her side. She was quiet, which was unusual for her. Even Carter, with his ever-present eerie grin, seemed less jovial than usual. Abraham sat beside Paola, his small hands fiddling with the frayed edges of his shirt, occasionally glancing up at her with the wide, cautious eyes of someone who had seen too much, too young. Paola herself was trying to push away her swirling thoughts, but they persisted, relentless. She couldn't shake the guilt that had taken root deep in her chest.

And then there was Selene, sitting in the back of the cart, apart from the others, her ash-grey skin blending with the shadows of the wagon's canopy. Her white hair fell forward, obscuring her face as she stared down at the floorboards, her amethyst eyes locked in place. Every once in a while, she caught a glimpse of Poca glancing back at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her gaze. She was unsure of everything—her actions, her choices, even her purpose. What was she doing here?

Selene clenched her Mithralite arm tightly, the cool metal comforting against her skin. She could still feel the weight of the feather in her pocket, like an anchor pulling her deeper into the pit of her own guilt. The feather… It was more than just a trinket, more than just an item she had stolen. It was power. A dangerous power. Selene had taken it out of impulse, her instincts honed from a life of scarcity and survival. If an opportunity presented itself, she had to take it. That was the way of a demon, and she had become the best at seizing those opportunities. But this time… it was different. This time, it was Poca.

Poca, who had saved her after she had lost her arm, when Selene had been tossed around the river rapids like a rag doll, bleeding and broken. Poca, who had nursed her back to health, who had given her a new arm—this arm, the Mithralite prosthetic that now felt like both a gift and a curse. She had done all that for her, and yet… when the moment came, Selene hadn’t been able to stop herself. She had taken from Poca, taken from someone who had trusted her, cared for her.

The weight of that betrayal was heavy in Selene’s chest. She had stolen Paola's bag as well—Paola, who she had assumed was dead. The guilt of that act lingered too, but in a way, it was easier to dismiss. Paola had died. Selene had convinced herself at the time that she was simply salvaging what she could. But hitting Poca… That was a line she had crossed that she wasn’t sure she could come back from. She had hurt someone she cared about, and for what? The feather? Greed?

The demon woman’s lip twitched in frustration, and she fought the urge to scream. She was at war with herself, the darkness inside her battling against the small flickers of light that had managed to survive all these years. She had almost given into it completely back in that cave, when the greed had overtaken her. She had acted on impulse, her mind clouded by the desire for power, for control. But now, here in the cart, surrounded by the very people she had wronged, she couldn’t hide from the guilt.

She should hand the feather back to Poca, just like she had returned the slippers to Paola. But the blood oath… Korran, the leader of the Thieves Guild, had made sure that she couldn’t simply walk away from this. A blood oath was unbreakable—either the debt was paid, or the oath was fulfilled through blood. Selene had been promised unlimited resources if she delivered the feather, resources she could use to free herself from this mess. But the thought of actually going through with it made her stomach turn. What had she done?

She glanced up, catching Poca’s eye for the briefest moment before quickly looking away. Poca had saved her, and now, Poca was looking at her with… what? Concern? Pity? Selene didn’t know. She just knew that it hurt. The longer she stayed in this cart, the heavier the weight on her chest grew. She needed to say something, needed to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. Her tongue felt heavy, her throat dry. What could she even say? Sorry for leaving? Sorry for stealing from you? Sorry for hitting you?

The cart jostled slightly as it rolled over a rocky patch of terrain, pulling Selene from her thoughts. She glanced around at the landscape, trying to distract herself. The sandy dunes were fading, giving way to more patches of grass and clusters of trees. The terrain was changing, becoming more like the outskirts of Emberfall. It was beautiful in its own way, the blend of desert and greenery creating a strange, almost surreal environment. The sky overhead was still a brilliant blue, the sun casting long shadows as it made its descent towards the horizon.

But even the beauty of the landscape couldn’t ease the turmoil inside Selene. She had always been good at compartmentalizing her emotions, at shoving them deep down where they couldn’t hurt her. But here, in this cart, surrounded by people who had shown her kindness, those walls were crumbling.

Her mind wandered back to the cave, to the moment she had seen Paola for the first time. She had known, even then, that Paola was the Fallen Star. It had been obvious to her. The way Paola moved, the way she fought—it all pointed to someone who was more than just an ordinary adventurer. But what had surprised her the most was the bond Paola had formed with Oso, the chaos cub. That bond was powerful, and dangerous. If the wrong people found out about it… Paola would be in even more danger than she already was. And yet, Selene couldn’t help but admire her for it. Paola had faced the Eye of the Storm alone, fought with everything she had, and had almost won. Selene had only stepped in at the last possible moment, delivering the killing blow, but it was Paola who had done most of the work.

And then Paola had died. Right in front of her. Selene had watched her fall, helpless to stop it. Poca had been there too, trying so desperately to save her, but it hadn’t been enough. Paola had died, and in that moment, something had snapped inside Selene. She had fallen into the darkness, given in to the greed that had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface. She had taken Paola’s bag, thinking it was the only way to salvage something from the situation. But now… now she was sitting in a cart with Paola, who was very much alive, and the guilt of that act weighed heavily on her.

Selene sighed, her white hair falling into her face as she slumped back against the side of the wagon. What was she doing here? Why hadn’t she just left when she had the chance? She could have taken the feather and disappeared, could have fulfilled her oath and been free of this entire mess. But something had stopped her. Something had pulled her back, made her return to this group of people she barely knew but somehow cared about.

She glanced up again, and this time, she caught Poca’s eye. Poca was watching her, her expression soft and thoughtful. There was no anger there, no resentment—just a quiet understanding. Selene wasn’t sure what to make of it. She had betrayed Poca, had taken something that wasn’t hers, and yet Poca seemed… okay. Maybe even forgiving. It didn’t make sense. But then again, nothing about this situation made sense.

Selene shifted uncomfortably, her Mithralite arm clinking softly as she moved. The weight of the feather in her pocket felt heavier than ever, and she knew she had to make a decision. She could keep it, fulfill her oath, and walk away from all of this. Or she could hand it back to Poca, try to make things right, and deal with the consequences later. Either way, the choice was hers to make.

But for now, all she could do was sit in this cart, surrounded by people who didn’t hate her—yet.

***

Mikey stretched out on the warm sand, resting his head on his hands as he looked up at the sky, the orange hue of his scales blending in with the desert around him. "You know, Donny," he said casually, a grin spreading across his face, "I could really go for some fireleaf flatbread right about now. Extra spicy."

Donny, crouched low in the tall grass, peeked over the dune, his eyes scanning the horizon. His green scales were well-camouflaged, the purple ones woven throughout his skin barely noticeable. "Now’s not really the time to be thinking about food, Mikey," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "We’ve got bigger things to worry about."

Mike glanced over at his brother, still grinning. "Relax, Don. We’re hidden, Selene’s bringing them right to us. It’s like delivery, only with more sand and less flatbread." He shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable as he lay in the sand.

Donny sighed, casting another glance over the dune. "You’re way too relaxed about this, Mikey. We don’t even know where Leo and Raph are. They could be hurt, or worse…"

"Aw, come on, Donny," Mike said, waving a hand dismissively. "They’re probably hanging out with that shadow tentacle dude. What’s his name? Nothin’?"

"Nathor," Donny corrected, his voice tinged with annoyance. "His name is Nathor, and he’s not exactly someone we should be taking lightly."

Mike shrugged, unfazed. "Whatever. I’m just saying, Leo and Raph can take care of themselves. You’re acting like they’re new to this or something."

Donny turned to look at his brother, concern etched across his face. "I’m not saying they can’t handle themselves, Mikey. But this storm was different. It was… chaotic. We were all split up, and we don’t know what they’re dealing with."

Mike lifted one arm to point at Donny, his grin still in place. "Yeah, but we’re the best fighters on the team. Leo’s probably bossing Nathor around right now, and Raph’s likely threatening to punch the storm itself."

Donny almost laughed at that, despite himself. "You really think you’re the best fighter?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, I didn’t say I was the best," Mike replied, shrugging again. "But, you know, I’m up there."

Donny rolled his eyes. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"Hey, it’s what makes me so lovable," Mike shot back, his grin never fading.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Lovable to who, exactly?" Donny teased, finally allowing himself to smile.

"To everyone, obviously," Mike said, giving his brother a playful shove with his foot. "Come on, Donny, loosen up. We’ll hear them coming before they even know we’re here."

Donny sighed again, but this time it was lighter, less tense. "I just… I don’t like not knowing if they’re okay."

Mike’s expression softened, just for a moment. "I get it, Donny. But worrying won’t help us find them any faster. We’ll get them back. And when we do, we can all have some fireleaf flatbread together, how about that?"

Donny shook his head, the small smile still lingering. "Again, with the flatbread. You really are obsessed."

"Guilty as charged," Mike admitted, his usual grin returning. "So, what do you say, Donny? We got a plan?"

Donny nodded, the worry lines on his face fading as he focused on the task ahead. "Right. We wait until they get close enough, and then we jump them. It shouldn't be too hard. Selene is with, what looks like two women, a child, and," Donny's eyes narrowed, "A wooden, smiling man?" Donny didn't sound convinced, which was fair.

Mike frowned. "What, a puppet or something?"

"No, not a puppet," Donny answered. "Like a... a living, wooden, human-sized toy. Smiling."

Mike shrugged. "Alright, weird, but we've seen weirder."

Donny raised an eyeridge, clearly disagreeing, but he didn't comment.

"Okay, so, we wait until they're close enough and then we jump them. Easy. And once we have them, what then?"

"Well, maybe don't jump them," Donny clarified. "Selene is with them, and between the three of us, I'm sure we can handle it. No need to resort to violence. Yet."

"Fine," Mike replied. "So we're going with the diplomacy plan? Okay, I can do that."

"The plan for now," Donny emphasized, "Is to observe, and see what they're up to. To reconnect with Selene, and figure out what's going on."

"Sure, Donny, whatever you say. So, the plan is, we observe, reconnect, figure out what's up, and then, hopefully, get some fireleaf flatbread. Sound good?"

Donny rolled his eyes. "That's... not what I said, Mikey."

"I know, but it sounds better."

***

Paola broke the tense silence with a voice that was rough, the strain evident as she finally spoke. "Selene," she began, the words heavy, "it was fucked up to steal the belt, but worse to hit Poca."

Poca, who had been silently guiding the oxen, glanced back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes betrayed a mix of emotions—hurt, confusion, maybe even disappointment. Selene opened her mouth to respond, but Paola wasn’t done. She wasn’t going to let this slide without saying her piece.

"I get it," Paola continued, her tone softening slightly. "You’re a treasure hunter. You said that from the start. But it was obvious, Selene… the way you told your story, I could tell it was fabricated. You weren’t just some wanderer who happened to cross paths with us. You were after something."

Selene’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t interrupt. She felt the weight of Paola’s words, the truth in them. Paola had been onto her from the beginning, and yet… she had still risked her life.

"Then why?" Selene asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "If you knew I was after you, after what you had… why did you still risk your life for me?"

Paola met her gaze, her brown eyes steady and unflinching. "Because when you talked about being tired, I could hear the truth in it. You were spinning a story, but that part… that part was real. And that’s what made me trust you, even if it was just a little."

Selene’s mouth went dry. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Paola’s words were like a mirror, reflecting back all the things Selene had been trying to ignore. The exhaustion that had been gnawing at her, the weariness of running, of fighting, of hiding. It was all there, laid bare in front of her.

"And I was right, wasn’t I?" Paola pressed, her voice growing firmer. "You are tired, Selene. You’re tired of fighting, tired of running. You’re tired of this life."

Selene clenched her fists, her Mithralite arm feeling heavier than ever. She wanted to deny it, to say that she wasn’t tired, that she was still strong, still capable. But she couldn’t. The truth was there, staring her in the face, and it hurt more than any physical wound she’d ever taken.

Paola leaned back slightly, her hand resting on the bag at her waist. She didn’t say anything, but the gesture was enough. It was as if Paola was telling her, without words, that she still trusted her, that she still saw something good in her despite everything. That she still believed in her, even now.

Selene felt a lump form in her throat. "If you really think that," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "then why are you letting me stay on this wagon? Why aren’t you kicking me off, leaving me to fend for myself?"

Paola smiled, a small, knowing smile, and she patted the bag around her waist. "Because," she said simply, "I can see the good in you, Selene. I can see that you don’t want to be this person anymore. And I think… I think you’re ready to change."

The words hit Selene like a punch to the gut. She had spent so long running, hiding behind a facade of strength and independence, that she had forgotten what it felt like to have someone truly believe in her. Paola’s belief in her wasn’t something Selene was sure she deserved, but it was something she wanted to hold onto. Something she needed.

Selene’s hand moved almost on its own, reaching into her pocket. She felt the cool, smooth surface of the feather, and she pulled it out slowly, hesitating for just a moment before holding it out to Poca. "I… I can’t do this anymore," Selene whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m tired, Paola. I’m so tired of fighting, of running. This… this isn’t who I want to be."

Poca’s head snapped back to look at Selene, her eyes widening as they landed on the Thunderwolf Feather glimmering in Selene’s hand. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Poca’s expression shifted rapidly—from confusion, to disbelief, to anger. The smile stitched into her face couldn’t hide the hurt that flashed across her features.

"Did you… did you truly steal this from me?" Poca asked, her voice low and tight with emotion.

Selene couldn’t bring herself to look Poca in the eye. She nodded, shame washing over her. "I did. I was going to sell it, use it to… to get everything I thought I wanted. But now… now I don’t know what I want anymore."

Poca stared at the feather in silence, her hands trembling slightly as she took it from Selene. The weight of it seemed to press down on her, the realization of the betrayal hitting her like a tidal wave. She had trusted Selene, saved her, helped her heal, and this was how Selene had repaid her?

Before Poca could respond, her gaze shifted to the road ahead, and her eyes narrowed. Selene followed her gaze and felt her heart sink as she saw them—two figures walking toward them, their reptilian forms unmistakable.

Donatello and Michelangelo. River Lurkers.

"No… not now," Selene muttered under her breath, her stomach twisting in knots. This was the worst possible timing.

As the cart creaked along the road, the atmosphere inside grew tenser with each passing moment. The desert had gradually given way to patches of grass and sparse trees, the landscape changing as they neared Emberfall. But despite the shifting scenery, all eyes were on the two figures walking steadily down the middle of the road ahead. The River Lurkers, Donatello and Michelangelo, were unmistakable with their reptilian forms, and they seemed ready for a confrontation. Their confident stride down the center of the road made it clear they intended to intercept the cart, and Selene knew they were prepared to ambush.

Selene's heart raced as she recognized them. She had worked with the River Lurkers before the Beaststorm had scattered everyone, their mission clear: find and capture Paola, the Fallen Star. But the storm had changed everything, and now Selene found herself in an impossible situation. The River Lurkers didn't know what Paola looked like beyond vague descriptions—they knew she was a naked woman with pink bunny slippers. But Paola was currently draped in a black cloak that hung to her thighs, and she wore mithralite stirrups that Poca had crafted. She wasn’t in the state the River Lurkers were expecting to find her.

As the River Lurkers closed in, Selene made a quick decision. She turned to Paola and Poca, her voice calm but urgent. "I need to thank you both," she began, her words catching Paola's attention. "Especially you, Poca." She looked at Poca, who was still seething with anger and betrayal, her round face tightened in an expression that made it clear she hadn’t forgiven Selene yet. But Selene pressed on. "I know I've messed up. I’ve made terrible choices, and I want to make things right. But I can’t do that if I don’t handle this first."

Paola’s brow furrowed, concern creeping into her voice. "What are you talking about? Selene, what’s going on?"

Selene shook her head, a small, forced smile on her lips. "You need to go to Emberfall. I’ll meet you there in a day or so, I promise. But there’s something I have to take care of first." She didn’t admit that the River Lurkers were after Paola. She couldn’t—not now, not when everything was so precarious. "I’ll handle them," she added, her eyes shifting to the approaching figures. "Please, just go. Get to Emberfall as fast as you can."

Paola looked like she wanted to argue, but Poca, still hurt and confused, remained silent. Selene jumped out of the cart before they could stop her, landing on the sand with a soft thud. She turned back to them, giving one last nod. "Trust me. I’ll see you soon."

Without another word, Selene started toward the River Lurkers, her heart pounding in her chest. The cart began to move again, picking up speed as it headed down the road, leaving Selene behind. It was exactly what she wanted. She needed to keep the River Lurkers off Paola and Poca’s trail, even if it was just for a little while.

As Selene approached the brothers, they greeted her with urgency, their eyes locked on the cart as if they could sense something was amiss. Donatello, with his green and purple scales, was the first to speak. "Selene! You’re okay! We were worried. What happened after the storm? Is that the cart?"

Michelangelo, his orange scales glinting in the sunlight, was already half-past her, his focus entirely on the wagon. "Is she in there? Is that Paola? We need to check—"

Selene quickly stepped in front of them, blocking their path. "Wait," she said, raising her hands to stop them. "There’s nothing there for you. I’ve already interrogated the cart."

The River Lurkers exchanged confused glances, their urgency momentarily halted by Selene’s words. "What do you mean?" Donatello asked, his voice laced with suspicion. "You found them?"

Selene shook her head, keeping her expression serious. "No. I couldn’t find the Fallen Star among them. It’s just a family of farmers heading to Emberfall. They’re not who we’re looking for."

Michelangelo frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Farmers? Are you sure? We can’t take any chances."

"I’m sure," Selene lied smoothly, trying to maintain the authority she had once wielded among them. "There’s no sign of Paola or Ayla. We need to regroup. Find Nathor, Leonardo, Raphael… and Thrix. We need to bring the team back together. If Paola is out there, she’s most likely back in Emberfall. That’s where we should be headed."

The River Lurkers hesitated, their eyes drifting back to the cart that was now disappearing over a small rise in the road. But Selene could see the doubt creeping in, the uncertainty that she could use to her advantage. She pressed on, her tone firm. "Think about it. If we rush into this, we might miss our chance. But if we regroup, get our forces together, we can sweep through Emberfall and find them both—Paola and Ayla. They won’t be able to hide from us."

Donatello sighed, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. He glanced at Michelangelo, who seemed to be considering Selene’s words. Finally, Donatello nodded. "You’re right. We need to be smart about this. Let’s find the others, then head to Emberfall together."

Michelangelo’s playful grin returned, though his eyes still flickered with the remnants of suspicion. "Alright, Selene. If you say so. But we’ll be keeping an eye out."

"Of course," Selene replied, forcing a smile. "But trust me, we’re better off regrouping first."

The cart was now a distant speck on the horizon, safely out of reach. Selene felt a mixture of relief and anxiety as she watched it disappear. She had successfully diverted the River Lurkers’ attention, but it was only a temporary reprieve. They would regroup, and they would be back on Paola’s trail soon enough.

As the River Lurkers turned back the way they had come, Selene followed them, her mind racing with the implications of what she had just done. She had bought Paola and Poca time, but she knew it wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, the truth would catch up to them all.

But for now, she had done what she could. She had kept them safe, if only for a little while longer. And as the three of them made their way down the road, Selene silently vowed that when the time came, she would be ready to face whatever consequences lay ahead. She had chosen her path, and now she would see it through to the end.