Forest for the Trees: In which Scavenger realizes that a day spent in exile means a day off work! And he knows just how he wants to spend it.

Dirge raised his rifle.

"I thought we were friends," Scavenger said bitterly, as he heard the weapon charging.

"We are. Now scream."

Dirge fired. The shot went over Scavenger's shoulder, close enough to blister his finish. Scavenger stumbled backward, yelping in terror as a barrage of shots followed. Dirge then opened his chest compartment to reveal the row of missiles that were housed there.

"Run."

Scavenger did, and a missile obliterated one of the dilapidated buildings in front of him. He veered down an alley where he crashed to his knees, whimpering. Dirge was faster than he was, and much better armed. Without his team to protect him, he didn't stand a chance if Dirge decided to—

Strong hands were prying his own from his face. "Are you all right?"

Scavenger gulped. Dirge was kneeling in front of him, his weapons powered down. His expression was one of unnerving concern, and for some reason, that made Scavenger angry.

"What the frag was that?" he snarled, surging to his feet. "Are you trying to give me a spark attack? I oughta—"

Dirge slammed him against a wall and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shh! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Scavenger stared, wide-opticked, and finally shook his head. Dirge released his mouth.

"I had to convince Cyclonus that you had been punished," he explained. "I offered to deal with the 'infidel.' He seemed to appreciate that phrasing."

Scavenger snorted. "He would." In a lower voice, he said, "Thanks."

"It is what friends do." Dirge stepped away, but caught Scavenger's arm again when he started toward the warren. "You can't go back."

He was right.

Scavenger dropped his gaze. "I acted like a fool, didn't I?"

Dirge grunted. "Possibly."

"It's just…" Scavenger wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his shovel-tail tightly against his back in a habitual gesture of self-protection. "I haven't written a poem in orns. Not since that one I wrote after Starscream…" he couldn't say the word. "And now they want me to built a throne that impostor! The mech who… who…"

"Murdered him?"

Scavenger whirled toward Dirge."You can't say that! It's… it's treason."

"It is the truth. Though one that it would be unwise to say aloud." He paused. "You should disappear, Scavenger. For at least a solar."

"A whole solar?"

"Time enough for Cyclonus time to remember that Devastator needs his right arm."

A whole solar. Without duties. Without orders. Without obligations of any kind. Scavenger glanced toward the mountains beyond the edge of the ruined city. "Maybe I could do a gingko walk."

"A what?"

Scavenger flinched. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. "It's an Earth tradition. Human poets who can't write go into the wilderness for inspiration. I've heard there's a forest in those mountains."

"Yes. I have seen it from the air."

Scavenger balled his fists. "Then that's where I'm going," he said firmly. He took a few steps, but then glanced back. "Dirge?"

"Aye?"

"Would you… come with me?"

A gingko walk is a haiku tradition in which poets undertake a meditative walk in order to gain inspiration from nature. When I first heard of the tradition, I knew that I just had to send Scavvie on one.