#Get’im boys!

[arcane-vagabond]

Behold! The TikTok that made me lose my shit!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Savanna Cleaner.

Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat well for a day. Teach a man how to fish, and he’ll never go hungry.

He'll clean up his plate, and the town along the way.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

He's up before the first crack of light hits the horizon. When the sun makes itself known, Ruggie is already halfway across town.

Sneaking is a specialty of his, learned from a young age. He darts along the savanna, quick as a whip, even when he's balancing several large containers. Their contents are as precious as gold.

His shadow ducks into alleyways and behind homes, hugging the darkness as the sun seeks him out. It was here where he would hide, waiting for easy pickings: gullible people to relieve of their wallets, rotten or meager scraps of food no one but the truly desperate desired.

Those days are long behind him now.

He passes a schoolhouse, a library, a park and a playground. All shiny and new, bearing shiny plaques. They had sprouted up years back, paid off by some generous benefactor. To liven up this place, they had said.

His destination appears along the road ahead. It's a building, simple and squat, with a similar plaque hanging by the entrance.

[The Sunbeam Community Center]

{Donated by Ruggie Bucchi}

He sneaks around, producing a hairpin from the breast pocket of his vest. A tool of his trade. Setting his containers down, Ruggie kneels and jiggles the pin around in the lock of the back door.

A minute later, and the door swings open without a problem. He enters, containers and all, placing them on the first free counter he spots. The instant his hands are freed up, a band of shrieks erupts from somewhere in the sun-streaked room.

“Get’im!!”

Small bodies rush at him from every direction, bursting out of cabinets and from behind furniture. They cling to his limbs, grip at his clothes, squealing for attention. Ruggie careens this way and that, body swaying from the extra weight thrown on top of him.

"Alright, alright," he groans, "I get it, you little brats! Get offa me already! How's a hyena supposed to get anything done like this?!"

"Awww, do we HAVE to?" one boy whines.

"But we haven't seen you in forever, Ruggie-nii!" a girl complains. "You're so busy with your fancy big-bucks job that you can't hang out as much as you used to."

"Yes, now off or no treats! We gotta fill our stomachs first before playing, right?"

At the promise of food, the children scrambled off of him. They collect in a sizable pack, all staring up at Ruggie with wide eyes.

Heh, always does the trick. He knows--at one point, he had been in their shoes.

"That's better." Ruggie adjusts his crooked shirt, then eyes the slum kids and street rats. Grimy, thin, sickly--that is how he remembers them. Now they've filled out a little more, their outfits well-fitting and clean. Some of them have a restored ruddiness to their cheeks, or a sheen to their tails.

Receiving the basic necessities tended to do that.

"Anyway, how'd you guys get in before the staff did? They must all still be snoozin' in their cots."

"Picked the lock," the kids chant.

"Then we hid and waited to ambush our prey!"

"... Great Seven, guess I'm a bad influence after all," Ruggie confesses. Tsk. They beat me to the punch. I was gonna be the one to surprise them. He doesn't linger for too long on it. "Eh, whatever. My conscience is light. Since you're all here, you might as well help me prep for tonight’s soup kitchen services."

"Whaaat? You said we'd eat first!"

"Yeah, eating and then playing!"

A slow, mischievous smile spreads on his face. "Huh, did I say that?"

"You diiiiid!"

He laughs. "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I didn't forget." Ruggie slapped a hand on one of the main containers he had bought in. "Here's your surprise--had Granny help me whip'm up."

"Thanks for the grub!"

The children clamor, greedy hands sticking out to snatch up rings of fried dough--perfectly golden, crisp exterior and fluffy interior. Some were dipped in chocolate, others iced in sugar glaze or coated in a fine powder. The toppings varied greatly, from crushed nuts to rainbow sprinkles and freeze-dried fruits.

One donut after another is wolfed down, fingers growing increasingly sticky from the indulgence.

"Oi, oi, eat that fast and you'll get bellyaches!" Ruggie warns. "And save some for me, I'm hungry too!!"

He makes a dive for one, capturing it before a child's nipping teeth do. The hyena sighs before popping it into his mouth and breaking off a piece. He's still chewing when one of the kids pipes up.

"I'm jealous, Ruggie-nii! You get to eat yummy stuff like this every day and swim in a pool full of gold and jewels and thaumarks."

Swim in a pool full of gold, jewels, and thaumarks? Is that what they think the mega-rich do for fun...?

"Nishishishishi, I wouldn't say that--but it's definitely a way cushier life than what I had before." He absentmindedly licks off granules of sugar from his thumb and goes in for another bite.

Ruggie thinks of his grandmother--sweet Granny Bucchi, who speaks with a stutter and needs assistance shuffling from her bed to the front door. She's getting up there in age, but never lost her fierce spark.

At least she can live comfortably in retirement now.

"... Yeah, definitely a cushier life than before," he remarks.

"You have buildings with your name on it too!" another child says. "They only do that when you give a lotta lotta LOTTA money! I want a building named after me too."

"’N you still visit us," a third adds, "to give us gifts 'n stuffs."

Ruggie finishes off his donut and shrugs. “What else am I gonna do with my cash, burn it?”

I wouldn’t turn my back on this place and take off into the sunset.

He had been poor, but he had also been happy here in spite of that. Long days watching Granny work her magic in their decrepit kitchen, sharing scraps and tricks to the local troublemakers, making up games that didn’t need tools or money. Those were precious memories, forever immortalized in amber.

He crams a second donut into his mouth.

Man, when’d I get so sentimental?

“I wanna be just like you when I grow up, Ruggie-nii. How can I be like you?”

“I wanna know too!”

“Me too, me too!”

“C’mon! Pretty please tell us?”

Ruggie swallows. "Okay, squirts. You wanna know the real secret to success? Clean the gunk outta your ears and listen up.”

The kids leaned in, ears perked and bobbing their heads eagerly.

Ruggie pretends to look both ways, then leans in as well, making a show of dramatizing his announcement. "… You eat well, play hard, and work and study even harder! That way, you can make your own bright futures and keep spreading the wealth~”

“Aw, we have to study?”

“That’s what the school and the library’s for. Can’t live off of money taken from the pockets of rich folks—you gotta sustain yourself, cuz I might not always be here.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.” Ruggie points out of the window, and to a sky brightening with sunshine. “One day, I’ll be a star too. Then it’s all up to you guys to send the same message to the next litter that comes along. One story from this generation to the next, and then to the one after…”

It’s how they tell stories in the slums, when they were too poor for paper and pencils. They had only words and the voices that spin them.

“… Oh, right. Speaking of that, how are you guys doing with your homework? I know you just started recently and it’s kinda tough getting into it.”

“Errr…” The kids worriedly glance at one another. Ruggie’s suspicions sharpen—this experience, so reminiscent of hunting down his dorm leader for missing assignments.

“You have been doing it, right?”

No one is brave enough to offer an answer. One girl at the head of the group blurts out, “Run!!” and sends the children into a frenzied panic.

They race for the exit, but Ruggie is quicker. He blocks the door and playfully snaps his teeth.

“Think you can escape?” A flash his teeth. “Try me.”

He’s having too much fun to let it be over this soon.

[exittotheartscape]

GET’IM BOYS

[muselexum]

@son-of-beast​ sent:  

 "You don't look so good." Yamato @ Ace maybe boy has had too much to drink

---> [ meme ]

                Ace had perhaps underestimated how much his new companion could tolerate in terms of alcohol. He usually had no trouble matching someone drink for drink, but was it possible he had finally met his match?

                When he stood he could not seem to keep his balance, swaying from side to side as he struggled to focus on what Yamato was saying. “M’fine~” he reassured, the grin plastered on his face slipping into goofy territory. “Y’know, th’ first time Lu-- my lil bro... I’ve mentioned him already right? Hah--! I used to get’im drunk. You shoulda seen him haha~”

[alwayssimmin-alwaysrantin]

As fast as the days had moved before, they began to move even faster. Amandine was getting closer to her Young Adult birthday with every moment, but she and her mother paid no mind to it. The two were finally on the same page again, and they weren’t worried about what the future would being; they had dealt with tough times before, and they were certain to do so again, but they were ready for whatever came their way next. 

At breakfasts and dinners, the women cracked jokes again, with music always playing in the background. At every meal, they both thought to themselves, smiling, the house is loud again. It’s happy again. 

Amandine asked her mom to help her with homework almost every night, and on those nights when she didn’t, she would visit Sam and his family. She was making friends at school again, and she was slowly beginning to feel like she had a handle on life again.

One morning she realized, when she looked over to her mother making a strange face, that she was okay. She was okay. She missed Dakota, and she didn’t doubt that she always would, but she was okay. And that was good enough for her. 

“You know, I think we’re still not quite caught up yet,” Aurélie said one night at dinner.

“What do you mean?” Amandine replied.

“You sneak off somewhere whenever you get the chance. I’m not upset, of course, kiddo; I love that you’re feeling well enough to go places, but where is it that you’re going?” Amandine scratched her neck, blushing.

“Ehhh...” she giggled, “well there’s this boy?” Aurélie gasped.

“No! Tell me more!” She leaned in toward her daughter, smiling.

“Do you remember Sam Illes? I met him in middle school, but we lost touch after a couple years.” Aurélie tilted her head, pondering. 

...

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do. Vaguely.”

“Well,” Amandine said, “when Dakota died and I was out of school for a while, he called me up to check on me. He’d talked to Nate who had told him what was going on, and Sam wanted to make sure I was okay. We got to talking for a while, and we started hanging out. Then we started hanging out more often.”

“And the lobster red your face just turned talking about him?”

More below the break~

“Okay, so I might have a teensy-weensy crush on him.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Amandine sighed.

“Probably not anything.”

“Oh, come on, kiddo! You’re a firecracker! Don’t let some ol’ crush get in the way of that.” Amandine smiled.

“Yeah, you’re right, Mom, I know you’re right. It’s just nerve-wracking.” Aurélie puts her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Now, there’s no reason to be nervous. I may be a little biased, but he’s either glad you made the first move, or he’s silly.” Amandine laughed.

“Mom, you know that’s not true.” Aurélie tilted her head back and forth, thinking about it, then she laughed.

“I know, kiddo, I know. He must be a wonderful boy for you to like him so much.” Amandine smiled, then paused, staring at the wall. Aurélie waved her hands in front of her daughter’s face. “Dine? You there?”

“I gotta go, Mom,” she kissed Aurélie’s cheek. “Love you!” She rushed out the door.

Go get’im, Dine, Aurélie thought, go get’im.

...

On her run out to the car, Amandine called Sam. 

“Dine? What’s up? You sound like you’re out of breath; are you okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I’m just– are you home right now?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Wait right there; I’ll meet you out front in 30 minutes.”

“Ohhkay? Dine are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m better than okay, but we’ll see how I feel in about 35 minutes.” Sam laughed.

“Okay then. See you soon, silly.”

[upperstories]

HATIM AU "I made a mistake." Can be either fluff or angst, I'm not picky. Thank you!

Bendy and Buddy AU - Good Ending

- - - - -

Boris always liked it when Alice cooked breakfast. 

When Bendy and lil’ Buddy tried to help, the kitchen would turn into a hurricane of messy stovetops, burnt eggs and smoldering toast. 

“Morning,” he yawned, jowls peaking past sharp teeth as he yawned. 

“So it is,” the angel hummed, flipping a flapjack with ease, “Any chance you can go wake the boys? I made Buddy’s favorite– chocolate chip pancakes!”

Boris perked up one ear.

“And don’t worry, you get bacon pancakes. I don’t intend on poisoning my favorite wolf.”

“Well thank goodness for that,” Boris huffed a deep laugh, making headway to the rumpus room, where Bendy usually took residence. Bendy was usually easier to rouse than Buddy, who seemed to be catching up on every sleepless night he’d had in the studio. 

“Pssst!”

Several small exclamation points popping up around his head, Boris paused mid step, just past the doorway to the den. He took a long step back, sound effects and all, and peered in. 

“Boris,” said Bendy’s long suffering voice, curled up on the couch. “Help me. I made a mistake”

Boris’s jaw fell open. It didn’t quite drop to the floor… because he was too busy smiling from ear to ear. 

Bendy was lying on the floral-print couch, looking grumpier than a cat with its tail caught in a mousetrap, with a tiny little bundling fast asleep in his arms. Buddy was practically glued to Bendy’s front, little arms wrapped around the larger toon, tail tucked up all neat. If it weren’t for the fact that Bendy was awake and disgruntled, the entire picture would’ve been hallmark-card-worthy. 

“Well, I’ll be a Sheep-Skin Seat Cover,” Boris cooed. “He’s like a lil’ pup.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Bendy groused, face greyed in a blush. “Could’ja get’im offa me? I’ve needed to use the bathroom since 2 AM!”

“that’s only part of the bit,” said Boris, still smiling. “Toons don’t need bathrooms.”

“Well I’d still like some freedom to stretch my legs and be a proper member of society!”

“Like you’d even try, Ben,” Boris huffed, but obliged anyway.

Buddy made the smallest of noises when he was pried from his comfy, warm pillow, but the second Boris tucked him against his shoulder, Buddy merely reached around Boris’s neck and went right back to sleep, nuzzling close. The wolf almost melted, patting the tiny toon’s head. 

“He likes me best now,” Boris teased. 

“Yeah yeah, yuck it up fuzzball,” Bendy waved him off, stretched his arms and giving his entire torso a twist. Now that the bit was over, he relaxed fully, and smiled in satisfaction. “I gotta tell ya Bo, I dunno how you play the straight man. Being the annoyed one of a duo’s exhaustin’!”

“That’s what happens when you’re the responsible one,” said Boris, patting Bendy’s head. “Now shake a leg! Alice made pancakes.”

[flightfoot]

Last Days of a Meat Puppet Chapter 4

(A/N) Thanks to ArtJunkyard for creating this AU and for looking over this chapter! I've had most of it planned for awhile, but kinda got distracted from it. I was never gonna end the story THAT badly for Lester, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

-------------------------------------------------

Movement.

Dragged back.

Summoned, piece by piece.

Bonding together seamlessly.

Reforming... me?

Me.

I existed.

I existed!

But who was *I*?

As more pieces gathered together, I dove into myself.

People flashed by me. Two young boys and a girl giggling and running away as I chased after them, pretending to be the Tickle Monster. I caught one of the boys and tickled him mercilessly. Causing him to laugh and cry out for help. My hearing seemed distorted. I focused, sharpening my hearing, straining to hear his words. 

“-ter! Help, Tyrone! He-he-he-” he collapsed into a fit of giggles. 

Tyrone? 

The second boy leapt into view, attempting to pull the first boy from my grasp. “I’ll rescue you, Tyler!” he shouted bravely. 

I felt my cheeks hurt from smiling. A warm sensation welled up inside me. Tyrone and Tyler... I loved them. I loved them so much. I loosened my grip a little, allowing the twins to escape.

I felt something wrap around my back. I didn’t have time to ponder what, though.

Hands kneaded at my belly and side. I laughed and laughed, unable to defend myself. The tables had turned. The Tickle Monster was being tickled himself.

The boys cheered, “Get’im, Katie!”

I craned my head around. A little girl wearing a tutu and a tiara greeted me, an evil grin on her face as she gleefully tickled me.

“I’m the Tickle Monster Princess!” she declared. “This is my servant Tickle Monster now!” She turned an evil grin towards the two boys. “Ooh~ I spy some new prey~”

Uh Oh

The boys saw the writing on the wall and RAN. With a grin, Katie and I ran after them.

A new scene interceded, demanding attention. 

I let it come.

A blond-haired boy, older than the other two, sat in front of me. He looked maybe ten years old. 

He seemed closed off. Withdrawn. Wary. As if he’d been through this before, and knew he’d go through it again. 

A tall woman I didn’t recognize stood off in the corner, watching everything.

“So what do you like to do?” a voice spoke from beside me. I turned slightly. The voice belonged to a tall man with curly hair and a kind face.

Dad!

This... this was my father. How could I have forgotten him? 

My past self wasn’t as enraptured with my dad as my current self was, unfortunately. My eyes darted back to the boy.

He shrank back and mumbled, not seeming to want to meet anyone’s eyes.

Things blurred forwards slightly.

I was at home with the boy (the boy? I knew his name. I KNEW it. So why couldn’t I remember? Please let me remember...). He wandered around, attempting to look casual, but I noted how his eyes kept darting to the doors, as if mapping escape routes.

“Cameron?” I heard my voice call out (Cameron, yes, THAT was his name!)

He startled a little. I felt myself give him a small, hopefully reassuring smile.

“I was going to play some Mario Kart,” I told him. “Want to join me?”

His face lit up. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Still, it was louder than the mumbling I’d heard from him before. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

We played a few rounds. Cameron fumbled a little on the first few tracks, but soon got his bearings. That’s not to say that he could beat ME, of course, I had years of practice over him - but he was consistently able to make the top five.

“You two having fun?” An amused voice interrupted. I looked over my shoulder. 

The woman smiled back at me, affection shining in her blue eyes. Just being near her made me feel warm and safe.

Mum.

“Mind if I join in?” she continued. The smile seemed less warm and motherly now, and more of an evil smirk. 

Crap.

I handed her a controller.

Cameron looked confused at my expression. “What’s up with that face? You look like your cat just died.”

“You’ll see,” I groaned. 

And oh did he EVER. Mum was a DEMON, shunting racers into hazards, laying down some hazards of her own, and dodging everything that Cameron and I could throw at her. 

Cameron looked at her in awe as she strode off at the end of the set of races (she won first place of course). “How... how did she DO that?” 

“She’s been playing Mario Kart for longer than I’ve been alive,” I chuckled. “What did you expect?”

“Have you ever beaten her?” he asked. I shook my head. “Nope. I haven’t had a lot of other live opponents to practice with though, just the NPCs. Want to help me unseat her and end her reign of terror?” 

I held out a hand. He shook it, a fire lighting in his eyes. In my new brother’s eyes. “Let’s DO this.”

It took YEARS of practice, but we finally beat Mum in a race. Ok, so maybe it took us ganging up on her, but still, we WON. 

The vision ended. That was okay. I remembered who I was now, and who my family were. 

But... where was I now? Why had I forgotten in the first place?

I opened my eyes.

Three people stood in front of me, their eyes filled with relief and joy. I didn’t recognize two of them - the dark-skinned teenage boy or the lighter, younger-looking teenage girl next to him.

But the final figure...

He looked about my age, but I sensed - no, I KNEW - he was much, much older than I was. He glowed softly in the darkness, illuminating his expression. I saw the same relief in his eyes as I saw in everyone else’s, but also sadness and a deep, gnawing guilt.

Apollo. 

Everything came rushing back. Zeus, the kidnapping, Apollo’s punishment, and my destruction.

But if what I remembered was correct... if I’d truly been destroyed. Then...?

“How?” I asked. I startled slightly. That was definitely my voice, but speaking felt... different. As if my thoughts had simply sprung out of my head audibly.

I started again. “How... how am I still here?”

Apollo spoke up. “I- I encountered your mother while I was on a quest. She thought I was you. Before that, I’d just assumed this body was an empty shell, a prison Zeus had created for me. That’s when I discovered the truth. That Zeus was crueler than I had ever imagined.”

He drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I ran into your mother on the street. I didn’t recognize her, of course. But she recognized me. I realized what Zeus had done.”

He shifted uncomfortably, not meeting my eyes. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t do that to her. Pretend to be her son. To be you. I promised her that I’d come back. And I ran.”

“I broke that promise.”

My brow furrowed. What did he mean? Couldn’t he just go to her now? I felt like I was missing something...

Apollo looked up, catching sight of my expression. His face collapsed in misery, realization filling his eyes.”You haven’t realized, have you?”

“Realized what?” I asked. I didn’t think I wanted to know, but I NEEDED to know.

“I- I couldn’t help you then. I needed to help defeat some evil people, and I had no idea where to even start at restoring you, if I even COULD. I’d hoped that getting back into Zeus’s good graces would be enough to persuade him to restore my godhood and to restore you back to your body. But it didn’t work like that.”

His expression fell even further, the light around him flickering like a candle in the wind. “I helped stop the Emperors and kill Python, but your body was destroyed in the process.”

I should have felt shocked. But I didn’t. I’d known this. I just hadn’t wanted to accept it. But that still didn’t explain...

“How am I here at all? Zeus said he was going to totally destroy my soul. It certainly FELT like he did.”

Apollo grimaced, disgust leaking into his voice. “My father TRIED to destroy your soul. And by Greco-Roman standards, he did. Not even a god could have restored you.”

He smirked. “Egyptian magicians, on the other hand...”

I took a closer look at the other two teenagers. They DID seem to have a lot of vaguely Egyptian-looking items on them.

Apollo continued. “I told some of my friends about what I knew of your situation. Luckily, they’d heard that these two had restored a destroyed soul before. My friends put me in contact with them - Carter and Sadie Kane.”

The boy - Carter, I assumed - took over. “People’s souls are often destroyed in Egyptian mythology. If someone’s heart is evil, their soul is fed to Ammit the Devourer -”

“Poochiekins,” the girl - Sadie - cut in.

Carter glared at her for a moment, then resumed as if nothing had happened. “-but sometimes evidence of a person’s innocence arises, and Dad needs to reverse the punishment. That’s where the sheut comes in.”

“Sheut?” I asked. I’d never heard of that before. 

“Shadow. It’s basically a back-up copy of the soul. One of my friends had part of his soul devoured, but we were able to restore it using his sheut. Finding it was the tricky part.”

“But if it’s just my shadow, wouldn’t it be attached to my body?” I asked, confused. I’d brushed up on my Greek mythology, but this Egyptian stuff was new to me.

“Well... sometimes. My friend - the one who had his soul partly destroyed, his name’s Bes - actually hid his sheut away in a rendition of the past. He’s a god though so that kind of thing’s normal for him. We weren’t entirely sure where to look for yours since it’s not like you would’ve known how to hide it. Luckily we didn’t have to look far.”

Where would I have...?

Oh. 

Of course.

I looked over at Apollo. “I left my sheut with you, didn’t I? Not with my body, but with YOU.”

It made sense. At the end there, I’d tried SO HARD to convey to Apollo what he needed to know. That us mortals were people too. And I’d wanted to protect Apollo as well, protect him from his own depression and guilt. I’d wished I could stay around to battle the voices in his head.

I guess in a way, I’d gotten my wish.

Apollo nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I’d begun getting little snatches of memories from when we merged. Just little bits here and there at first. I didn’t even know if they were REAL, but something told me not to dismiss them. Then - then I remembered something. I was drowning in depression, ready to just give up and fade. Then I heard you scream “NO.” And-and you helped somehow. At that time I didn’t remember what you’d done exactly, just that you’d shared part of yourself with me. That’s when we figured out that you’d attached yourself to my soul.”

He smiled at me, though I detected a hint of sadness in his eyes. “From there it was pretty easy to restore your soul. Carter and Sadie just made a shabti, - a figure of you made out of clay - bound your sheut to it, and performed a reverse execration spell on it. Whole thing took less than an hour.”

That explained how I was here now. But that sadness in Apollo’s eyes...

“There was more to it than that, wasn’t there?”

Apollo chuckled softly. “You know me too well. Of course you do. You’ve seen into my soul, seen me more clearly than I saw myself.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “You took certain memories with you when you were destroyed. Memories you stole from me in an effort to undo some of the emotional damage Father had inflicted on me during my imprisonment. Undoing your annihilation brought those memories back. All of them. Everything Father did, everything you did, everything I realized during those precious moments when we were one. I’ve been sorting through it all while we waited for you to wake up.”

He drew in a shaky breath. “I- I forgot what I learned. Consciously, at least. But I think that subconsciously I remembered what you’d shown me. About how mortals matter. You broke through my indifference, and even after I forgot about you - about what happened - the cracks in my facade remained. I relearned what you taught me. I don’t think it would have happened so quickly if not for you. Thank you. I just wish - I wish I could help you as much as you helped me.”

He already HAD helped me. Apollo had searched for a way to bring me back even when it should have been impossible. The way he’d said that though, as if what he’d done wasn’t enough - it confirmed my suspicion.

“I’m dead, aren’t I? Not just bodiless, but really, actually dead.”

Apollo nodded apologetically. “I could get your soul restored, but repairing your body was beyond mine and their power.”

I wasn’t surprised. I’d been prepared to be annihilated when Zeus set my soul on fire. At least being dead was a step up from THAT.

But being dead meant...

A sinking feeling filled my gut (despite not even HAVING guts anymore). “I’ll never get to see my family again, will I?”

Apollo flinched. “I’m- I’m sorry. It’s my fault you don’t have a body to return to. Maybe if I’d been more careful, or- or faster, or practised more, or SOMETHING, your body would still be intact.”

I shook my head. “How many times do I need to tell you? This is Zeus’s fault, NOT YOURS. HE’S the one who dragged me into this. You blame yourself enough for your own actions. Don’t blame yourself for others’ actions as well.”

“Just- please. Keep the promise you made. Look after my family for me? That’s all I ask.”

Apollo laughed derisively. It sounded more like crying. “I don’t have the best track record with promises you know.”

“Maybe not. But I know you’ll keep this one.”

Apollo nodded. I don’t think he trusted himself to speak.

I took a deep breath. Not that I needed to - no lungs and all - but the action calmed me a bit. “So what happens to me now?”

“Now, I guess I take you to the Underworld to be judged.”

Judged?

“Judged by who? What do they judge me on?”

“Whether you’ve lived a good life and been a good person, mostly. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll achieve Elysium.”

 “Elysium?”

“It’s basically the Greek equivalent of Heaven. It’s a nice place, like one of those gated communities that’s popular with the older mortals.”

I had no doubt it was, but... “My family won’t be there.”

“They’re still alive, so no.”

I was happy they were still alive and well, but I wanted to be WITH them, to grow up with them. 

We can’t always get what we want.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walked through the Gates of Elysium.

I hadn’t needed to wait very long to be judged. Apparently Apollo had fast-tracked me. I was grateful, but felt bad for everyone else still waiting in line, many of whom surely deserved Elysium as much or more than I did.

The judging itself hadn’t taken very long either. I really shouldn’t have been surprised. I was only sixteen and I hadn’t had a very exciting life. A good life, but not one that took long to look over. The judges unanimously declared that I was fit for Elysium and sent me off.

I wandered around Elysium for a few hours. The place was beautiful, with massive castles and villas and gorgeous gardens. The people were pretty friendly. I was invited to join several picnics and barbecues even though I was a total stranger.

I declined them all. I just... I couldn’t bear seeing so many people happy, or participating in casual conversations. Not then.

“Apollo?!”

I looked around. Had Apollo decided to visit me? Could he even do that? 

I didn’t see any sign of the golden-haired god. Instead a blond-haired boy stood in front of me, gaping.

I frowned. Was this someone Apollo had met while in my body?

“Sorry, I don’t know who you are.”

The teenager looked disturbed. “You don’t remember me? Jason Grace?”

I shook my head. “I’m not Apollo. I’m the kid Zeus kidnapped to serve as Apollo’s meat puppet.”

Now Jason looked REALLY disturbed. “His WHAT!”

“He kidnapped me from my family and systematically destroyed my soul, piece by piece, until my body was empty enough for his liking. Then he shoved Apollo’s soul in and set what was left of my soul on fire until it was totally annihilated,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Jason stared at me, his jaw hanging open and eyes bugging out. He made a few strangled noises before finally regaining the power of speech. “My Father did THAT?!”

I grimaced. “Yeah. He sucks.”

Jason was silent for a moment, seeming to process my words. “Wait, if he annihilated your soul, then how are you here?”

“Apollo found out about what happened to me and found people who were able to restore my soul - but not my body.”

“Oh.”

We stood there awkwardly for a second, until my OWN brain had finished processing Jason’s words. “Wait, Zeus is your Father?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Well, Jupiter, anyway. I’m Roman. Sorry about... you know.”

“Not your fault, man. It’s his fault I was put through that, no one else’s.”

“Still...”

I shook my head. “NO. I had enough of Apollo blaming himself. I don’t need you doing it too.”

Jason perked up a bit. “How’s he doing? Did he defeat the Emperors? Is he a god again?”

“He seemed okay when I saw him. Sad and feeling guilty about what happened to me, but otherwise okay. He stopped the Emperors and killed Python, whoever that is. And yes, he’s a god again.”

Jason let out a breath. “That’s a relief. I just hope...”

“Hope what?”

“I- I knew I was going to die when I helped Apollo on his quest. I wanted to make sure I made a difference before I did. I asked him to promise that he’d remember what it was like to be human when he became a god again.”

This kid - I WISHED I’d known him when we were both alive. We would’ve been great friends, I was sure.

“He remembered,” I assured Jason. “I know he did. I could tell in the way he talked to me and about his friends. He won’t forget.”

Jason smiled back. “I’m glad.”

We walked around the lake for a moment. My eyes kept drifting to the islands in the middle.

Jason spoke up. “So what are you gonna do now?”

I stopped walking. Jason had asked the question I’d been avoiding thinking about. “I- I don’t know. This place is lovely, but- it’s not home. I- I want to go back home to Mum and Dad and Tyrone and Tyler and Katie and Cameron-”

I choked back a sob. So much had happened that I’d managed to avoid thinking of my family, of dwelling on what EXACTLY being dead had meant, for a while. But now that I’d had time to process it all came flooding through.

I’d never play hide-and-seek with the twins again.

I’d never attend Katie’s dance recital.

I’d never beat Cameron at Mario Kart again.

I’d never have butt whooped by Mum at Mario Kart ever again.

I’d never watch movies with Dad ever again.

Maybe I could see them again eventually when they died (which I dearly hope wouldn’t be anytime soon) but they’d all have grown and lived full lives without me by then.

Jason looked at me sympathetically. “I have people I miss too. People I’m waiting for. Though since they’re demigods, I probably won’t have long to wait. We don’t have the best survival rate.”

“I- I just,” my eyes drifted magnetically to the islands in the middle of the lake. What WERE they? “I just- I want to be alive again. To see them again.”

Jason looked at the islands for a moment. “Do you want to go back?”

Go back?

“I can do that?” I asked, suddenly hopeful.

Jason nodded. “Souls that are judged worthy of Elysium have the choice of being reborn. If they’re reborn twice and judged worthy of Elysium all three times, they can enter the Isles of the Blest - those islands over there.” Jason gestured towards the islands we’d both been staring at.

“I could go back...” I stated numbly.

“Yes, but you have to be SURE it’s what you want,” Jason told me warningly. “You have have bathe in the River Lethe in order to be reborn, wiping out all your memories. There’s no going back at that point. You don’t have any idea where you’ll end up, or what your circumstances will be. You might not achieve Elysium next time. You could be sentenced to either the Fields of Asphodel or the Fields of Punishment for all eternity. It’s very, VERY unlikely you’d ever cross paths with your family again, and you wouldn’t recognize them if you did.”

Jason was right. The sensible thing would be fore me to stay here until my family eventually died and meet them then. I’d have missed a LOT, but I’d be guaranteed to see them again.

I didn’t feel like being sensible.

The chance I’d see my family again was vanishingly slim, but I was going to take it.

“Where’s the River Lethe?” I asked Jason.

He frowned, but pointed. I started walking in the direction he’d indicated. Jason walked with me. 

“Are you sure? You could stay and think on this awhile. There’s no time limit.”

I shook my head. “It’s foolish and idiotic and stupid to rush into this, I know. But I’m feeling stupid and idiotic and foolish right now.”

Jason laughed. “Sometimes it pays off to be a bit foolish.”

We stopped at the riverbank.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Jason said, smiling sadly. 

“Yeah, I guess this is.” 

Jason hesitated for a moment, then pulled me into a fierce hug. “You’ll see your family again. And- and this isn’t goodbye for good. I’ll see you again the second time you earn Elysium. I’ll be waiting.”

I hugged him back. I wished I’d gotten longer to know him, but I just couldn’t wait around any longer, knowing there was a way back to the mortal world. I just couldn’t.”I’m looking forward to it.”

Jason laughed. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to see you back here again for a long time.”

I smiled at my new friend, then turned and waded into the Lethe’s waters.

It felt warm and cozy and... what was I thinking of again? 

It didn’t matter, did it?

Don’t forget your family.

I startled. My family?

Tyrone. Tyler. Katie. Cameron. Mum. Dad.

Their faces invaded my vision. I clung to them even as everything else slipped away.

Please, just let me see them again.

Please...

-----------------------------------------------------

I had most of this planned out, but I came up with Lester meeting Jason while I was writing the chapter, and once I'd had the idea, I HAD to implement it. I really think they'd be great friends if they'd had the chance.

[defleurtradingco]

August 23rd-Warm

????, Spring of 2017

The sun had been beating down on his back all day long, and yet there was not a single drop of sweat on him anywhere.

How could there be? Monte was dead. The dead don’t sweat. Sure maybe they got a little leaky if they had been embalmed or drowned, but otherwise, he was as dry as a desert bone.

Whenever he’d gone out driving on the highways across the states, he realized how much he missed those long open stretches, the big wide open sky, nature in general.

There used to be so much more of it back then, but here and there, in the huge states like Texas and other bits of the desert, there were still enormous plots of undeveloped government land.

And even better, he had access to quite a few of them. There would be dirt roads he could turn off of, where he could stop and get out of the car and step into the brutal heat and the dry breeze and take it all in. And he could wander further into the grass and stand there, listening to complete silence.

It was one of the few things that he found relaxing, considering all the time he spent hiding in plain sight in the cities, doing work for the DeFleurs, or running from them.

Today he sat on a lone rock out in the middle of golden and grassy hills that went on for miles before rocky mountains dotted the horizon. The sunset cloud-smeared sky looked like sherbet above, or at least that was what he’d say it looked like.

There was still just one thing he missed, however.

He missed feeling the heat.

All the time, it felt as though he were looking through some sort of glass window, into the inside of a shop. He could SEE the sun and everything it hit, but he could never feel it. And it wasn’t as if he felt icy or cold either…

He felt numb. He felt nothing.

When he first awoke, it was the most distressing part of all (aside from missing half his entire face of course.) He had gotten used to his skin looking dry as leather, other things crumbling off one bit at a time, the reactions and cringes people gave whenever he came near due to the smell of rot (he knew he  could only help that up to a certain point.)

But God he hated not being able to feel anything. Not being able to feel the temperature, not being able to feel textures… At least he could still TASTE, but it was an empty comfort.

No, the one thing he wanted most of all was to feel warm. Maybe emotionally, maybe physically, he wasn’t too sure.

But if he could somehow fling himself into the sun, then he wouldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to such offer.

“...Get’im get’im...with yer boys…” He hummed as he pulled a chunk of his own hair that had been blown aside by the wind out of his half-mouth.

“All th’ bullies and th’ noise.

Fight or flight, go no choice.

Where ya goin’, whiteboy.”

[severalbakuras]

s2e13 and 14!

dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons:

mabel how.

IT’S KIND OF CUTE HONESTLY…

OK MAYBE NOT.

mabel approach > stan approach for the most part

does ford appear in the intro now…?

back to full length so maybe?

aww i don’t think he does. or i didn’t catch him in time.

i feel like the ‘rents would want to know more details than that mabel.

DND EPISODE? it’ll be nice to watch one of these for once.

mabel think of it as crafts with numbers and mind powers.

there was a larp society at my university they had some seriously huge battles rain or shine. like easily 15+ a side. 

woah dipper that’s rude.

ANOTHER BASEMENT???

oh no it’s the same one.

ford how do you not notice the new skylight?

‘too dangerous for a single living soul’ ford are you implying what i think you’re implying????????

i’d play 90s version.

real question time dipper!!!

that’s a lot of dimensions.

ooooooooh mabel yeah he got you.

not so fun the other way around huh mabel?

sfjkdfjsd speaking for the fandom there stan?

k no ford chill.

K NO STAN CHILL

AAAAA

MATH IS NO MATCH FOR GUN

oh it is.

TELL HIM MABEL

very stanlike response there ford.

hot elf you can do better than these shmucks.

thank u grenda.

grenda is hardcore.

TINY ADORABLE ELF DIPPER

that is horrifying mabel.

that’s like a really fucked up bill thing. or am i just seeing bills in everything vaguely triangular.

poor grenda.

yeah saw that coming.

EVIL TWIN DUCK

so meta

oh sure because keeping secrets from your family served you so well in the past man ffs.

the stanchurian candidate:

mabel why.

dipper i approve.

so hey if you two work together you could sell those lights. just saying.

nice dodge, he’s a better huckster than stan.

poor tad strange.

ooh that’s his game nice.

your son almost killed his grandkids you’re lucky he’s not built the mystery shack mark 2 over your house man.

eagles wouldn’t give a shit about seeds though.

well he’s got the kids vote.

MEMEING FAST

UM FORD HOW DEEP WERE YOU IN WITH THE GOVERNMENT.

YOU TWO LEAVE SOOS ALONE

STOP IT IT’S NOT AWESOME.

he’s got my vote.

oooooooooooh boy.

these kids could be terrifying politicians one day.

and he can’t relax his mind with the blind eye anymore…

i know the page said one time use but it really seems like gideon’s taken over his mind before for him to react that way...

you’d think he’d react the way soos did once control broke. 

and here it goes.

NO YOU LEAVE SOOS ALONE HE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS.

i support the get’im guy.

CHANGED MY MIND I SUPPORT SOOS JUST SO HE DOESN’T HAVE TO SUFFER FOR NOTHING ;A;

oh his name’s tyler.

he’s teletubbying!

fuck OFF gideon.

SAVE THEM STAN

they didn’t even hesitate to agree lel.

IS HE FREE FROM GIDEON???

MAYOR PINES

guess not.

HE KILLED A LLAMA??? STAN THAT COULD’VE BEEN THE LAST SYMBOL I’VE FIGURED OUT ALL THE REST BUT ONE AND IT’S THAT ONE.

aww stan.

and ford once more demonstrates he hasn’t learned anything from his pre-portal solitude.

TRIANGLE BAAAAAAAA oh it’s bill.

BILL BAD.

gideon he already failed you once so that must’ve been one hell of a deal he offered you, you don’t strike me as a second chances type of guy.

[magicandmettle]

Magic and Mettle

Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that, the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… be deadly.  There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear. Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death. He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint.  With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.  

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that.

He looked down at his bare feet; one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes once.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, strong, fast moving guards didn’t at all have any effect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  A guffaw replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything!  She practically ran home crying!” and it took Todd a moment to realise that the noises being made was laughter, not tongues being hung out with whatever noises that arrived unleashed.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the road but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower? Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Seriously who’s there.’

 Outside near the streetlamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up. He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents from a business that was doing ok. How dare he.  Of course, had he known that the owner was related in some way to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole damn draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son grinned something slimy.

“Right you are!” shrieked Jon.  He actually shrieked.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with Todd’s ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and reeling as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him; he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everybody’s shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice, and even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed (but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well). Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen them, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose.  It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running fired up the air. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope by The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood. She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  You’re not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate t’punch ya.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  And sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re inna lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me,” she pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, yoo did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have died,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you don’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He gave Murid the side eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level; she tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And yoo’re gonna have t’ pay his medical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Take him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. All this running around past her bedtime was starting to get exhausting.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.

[muridgreenthumb-blog]

Magic and Mettle Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… maybe be deadly. There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear.  Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death.  He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

 His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that. Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint. With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.

He looked down at his bare feet – one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, very fast moving guards didn’t at all have any affect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  Another obnoxious laugh replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything! She practically ran home crying!” and they all roared.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the street but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower?  Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Ok seriously who’s there.’

Outside near the street lamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the other boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up.  He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents for food from a business that was doing ok.  How dare he. Of course, had he known that the owner was related in someway to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son guffawed.  

“Right you are!” said Jon.  He shrieked that time.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with his ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and wheezing as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him – he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everyones shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice.  Even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed, but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well. Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen her, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him in the nose before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose. It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and there was the sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope to The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa tea?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood from the ribs.  She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  Your not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate to punch you.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  Maybe he made a horrible mistake, thinking she was sane.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  She sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy that she held in her arms now so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re in a lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me.” She pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, you did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have deid,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you did’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He looked at Murid from the corner of his eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level.

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  She tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And you’re gonnae have t’ pay his maedical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Tehk him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. She was starting to feel really tired.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.

[maddinup]

Magic and Mettle

This is the first chapter of my novel, Magic and Mettle!  You can come over to my side blog (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/magicandmettle) where I’ll be posting all M&M related stuff, like finished chapters and art. 

Magic and Mettle

  Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… maybe be deadly. There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear.  Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death.  He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

 His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that. Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint. With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.

He looked down at his bare feet – one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, very fast moving guards didn’t at all have any affect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  Another obnoxious laugh replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything! She practically ran home crying!” and they all roared.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the street but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower?  Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Ok seriously who’s there.’

Outside near the street lamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the other boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up.  He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents for food from a business that was doing ok.  How dare he. Of course, had he known that the owner was related in someway to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son guffawed.  

“Right you are!” said Jon.  He shrieked that time.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with his ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and wheezing as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him – he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everyones shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice.  Even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed, but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well. Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen her, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him in the nose before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose. It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and there was the sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope to The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa tea?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood from the ribs.  She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  Your not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate to punch you.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  Maybe he made a horrible mistake, thinking she was sane.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  She sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy that she held in her arms now so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re in a lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me.” She pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, you did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have deid,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you did’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He looked at Murid from the corner of his eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level.

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  She tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And you’re gonnae have t’ pay his maedical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Tehk him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. She was starting to feel really tired.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.