I like the first chapter so much that I wanted to post it, even though I don't know when I'll be able to get the plot hammered out and finish this. I hope you will enjoy it too!
Knuckles thought it was a shooting star at first. The flash of light it made across the late afternoon sky, arcing toward his island home, caught his eye just a second before impact. When it hit he could actually feel the ground vibrate under his feet in response.
This needed investigating. Knuckles ran for the area where he had seen that light going down and found a smoking crater on the grassy plain along the edge of his island. The stench of hot metal and smoke reached him even before he was out of the trees. It wasn't a real meteorite, as he had thought, but a capsule of scorched metal and shattered glass.
There was a prone body lying in the shadow of the capsule. Knuckles noted that long enough to pick whoever it was up and toss them out of the crater. Something inside the capsule had ignited, sending up stuttering spurts of flame, and he couldn't let the dry grass in the clearing catch fire.
Digging furiously, Knuckles threw dirt on the fire to smother it before it could get started. The last thing Angel Island needed was a forest fire, and Knuckles certainly wouldn't enjoy one himself. He had to half bury the capsule before he was satisfied that nothing else was going to ignite from the heat.
By the time he was sure the flames were completely smothered, there was no way Knuckles could tell where this odd 'shooting star' had come from. If there had been any identifying markings that were still readable after the scorching it had gotten, they were now covered by dirt. That left whoever it was that had been inside.
That person was still lying in the grass where Knuckles had tossed them, a limp ball of spiky black fur. Knuckles approached cautiously and knelt down beside the body, suddenly unsure if he was going to find whoever it was had died on impact or even been scorched to death.
It wasn't until he gingerly turned the body over that Knuckles realized this was Shadow the Hedgehog. It was with an unexpected spark of relief that he found Shadow was breathing, though he didn't look like he would regain consciousness any time soon.
Knuckles took a minute to look Shadow over. He wasn't used to assessing wounds on anyone other than himself, but all of the marks he could see on Shadow looked superficial. There were shallow cuts on the backs of his arms and hands, across his stomach, and on his knees; one or two with glass shards still glinting in them. His fur was singed short in a few places, but none of the burns seemed extensive. Knuckles had tossed him out of the crater before the long quills on his back could catch fire.
Knuckles arranged Shadow a little more comfortably and went to check on the capsule one last time. He went all the way around it, checking that the dirt he had heaped up on it was cool and making sure that there was a ridge of bare ground to keep nearby grass from catching if there should be any more flames from the capsule.
When Knuckles moved back to him, Shadow was still out cold. He was still breathing, deep and slow, and that had to be a good sign as far as his health was concerned. Knuckles watched him for a moment, considering his options.
Shadow had been both ally and enemy in the past. Knuckles remembered that, and did not forgive easily, but he couldn't simply boot Shadow over the edge of the island while he was unconscious. Either he could look after Shadow here, or take him home and do it there.
He couldn't rule out internal injuries, which meant it might be safer to let Shadow lie at least until he woke up. Then again Knuckles had already tossed him once, and it hadn't killed him or even made any of his limbs twist at unnatural angles to advertize broken bones. More pressing in Knuckles's mind was the fact that they were near the edge of Angel Island. The thought of having to be distant from the Master Emerald until Shadow woke up, however long that took, decided him.
Knuckles had developed a sort of sixth sense–almost an itching in his spines–that often told him not to leave the Master Emerald. It wasn't always accurate, and didn't always warn him in time, and maybe it had only been a warning that Shadow was going to crash land into his little world, but Knuckles wasn't going to ignore it.
The warning glint of glass shards hidden by dark fur and welling blood made Knuckles decide against throwing Shadow over his shoulder. That would risk driving the glass deeper into Shadow's stomach and probably end up cutting him as well. Instead he arranged Shadow's arms over his chest and scooped the unconscious hedgehog up with one arm under his shoulders and the other holding his knees.
Shadow was heavier than he looked, but still no trouble to carry. He didn't so much as groan the whole way back to the temple. When Knuckles lay him out in the grass he looked as if he was simply sleeping. The slight rise and fall of each breath made him look peaceful.
A quick glance up at the Master Emerald gave Knuckles confirmation that nothing had gone wrong in the few minutes he had been away. He left Shadow and the emerald long enough to collect some supplies, automatically double-checking that both were where he had left them when he dropped off his things before going to collect some fresh water.
Treating Shadow's wounds was meticulous work. Knuckles went over his whole body from head to feet, making sure to remove every visible piece of glass or metal still stuck to Shadow's fur. He double-checked each wound in turn for glass, rinsed it with a touch of cold water, then touched it with a homemade ointment to prevent infection.
None of the cuts looked deep enough to need extensive bandaging, but a few began bleeding sluggishly when Knuckles removed glass shards. Those had to be wrapped in some of the rough woven bandages he always kept on hand. When he sat back the dark green of braided plant fibers made almost invisible stripes around Shadow's limbs and stomach.
The only time Shadow had stirred was when Knuckles brushed both hands through the tuft of white fur on his chest to remove any sharp debris. He didn't even wince at the ointment, which Knuckles knew from experience would be stinging him madly if he were awake to feel it.
The next step would be treating Shadow's burns. Knuckles had to take his gloves off for this part, but now that he had started he intended to finish the job properly. He had brought a fresh branch back with him when he collected the water (If he had ever known the proper name for this plant it would have been a lifetime ago, but he still knew what to use it for). Now he picked off a handful of leaves and shredded them into strips each roughly the size of his thumb.
The shredded leaves he mixed with a double palm-measure of cold water in an old clam shell. The inside edges were long ago polished smooth from use and glinted pink at him with the light from the setting sun. Knuckles had saved the shell specifically because it was the perfect size to grind the side of his fist into. He continued to add water and leaves in turn, pulping and mixing them until he had a thick paste. The final product had a powerful acrid scent that Knuckles personally detested, but he had yet to find anything better than this for burns.
Slathering the poultice over the burned patches on Shadow's arm and shoulder worked as well as smelling salts might have, making him wrinkle his nose against the smell and try to turn his head away.
Knuckles remained focused on what he was doing, even when Shadow's eyes cracked open and finally focused on him. He had finished Shadow's arm and moved to the other before Shadow finally spoke up.
"Why are you helping me?" Shadow asked. His voice was rough, hoarse almost to the point of being inaudible.
Knuckles paused, cradling Shadow's limp arm with one hand. The answer seemed so obvious that it was strange to say it out loud.
"Because you needed help." Because Shadow was in his territory and wasn't a threat right now. Because what else was he supposed to do?
They studied each other for a minute in silence. When Shadow didn't say anything else Knuckles went back to what he was doing. He finished spreading the poultice on the places where Shadow's fur had singed off and pressed whole leaves on top of each sticky patch, layering them like green scales, to keep the poultice moist.
Silence reigned. Knuckles cleaned the poultice off of his hands as best he could, knowing they would smell of it for hours now, and rearranged his supplies in preparation to pack them away again. It slowly became obvious that Shadow was not going to pick up the conversation for him.
"Can you move?"
Shadow gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Knuckles could tell he was taking time to assess to the damage to his own body. By the time he had done that much, there was no need for him to answer.
"Here."
Knuckles held out the last of the clean water he'd brought, holding the lopsided basin until he was sure Shadow had a grip on it. He was gratified to see that Shadow sipped at it slowly so as not to make himself sick.
The last assistance Knuckles offered was pure charity. He took his good blanket from among his supplies and wrapped it carefully around Shadow's shoulders. He almost didn't want to, now Shadow was awake, but by now he had made a commitment and that meant he would follow through to the end.
That blanket was the one Amy had made him, with an outrageous tilted pattern of diamond-shaped gems and running hedgehogs. In a less charitable mood Knuckles would have suspected she had been practicing half of that pattern for someone else and had given it to him to hide the evidence. Whether that was true or not, that blanket was the warmest thing he owned. On the most severely cold nights Knuckles would sometimes wrap himself in that blanket, and in the memory of sixteen years worth of birthday presents being offered him in a single brown-paper package.
"Thank you," Shadow finally said, breaking Knuckles out of the memory. His voice was stronger now. Maybe that little bit of help would be enough for him to recover, and Knuckles would soon be rid of him.
"Now," Knuckles started, and he could hear his own voice hardening reflexively, "What are you doing on my island?"
Shadow looked up at Knuckles, then to the sky, catching the last rays of sunset in his crimson eyes. Knuckles could only see confusion reflected there.
"Do you even know who I am?"
Knuckles knew Shadow had lost his memories at least once before. Maybe it had happened again. He didn't even seem to be aware that he was trespassing. It was difficult to tell if he was seriously considering the question or ignoring it.
"Knuckles," Shadow finally whispered, shaking Knuckles out of his moment of reflection.
At least it sounded like Shadow knew him. Knuckles would try to ignore the feeling that he was being studied as if Shadow had never seen him before. It was hard to tell the exact expression on Shadow's face. Sunset had become twilight and was deepening into night almost before Knuckles noticed.
"Knuckles the Echidna."