I. The Call of the Valley
The bloody-furred arm swung out of the roiling black fog again and Donatello threw himself aside, landing badly on the leg the monster had once broken.
Its blade-sharp claws connected with another mark, though. Don choked on his own shriek as the creature ripped through Mike's plastron with a single swipe. His brother hit the ground screaming and curled over, as the huge black shadow loomed after.
"Mike!" Don shouted. He lunged forward to parry the monster's next blow.
But a tackle from behind knocked him to the ground, and then Leo was on him, pinning him, keeping him from protecting their brother. A horrible crack sounded – like a lobster, Don thought, erratic images of steaming red crustaceans erupting across his vision – as the creature's jaws closed on Mike's back shell.
"Not you too – " Leo hissed at his ear, forcing Don backward. The monster was tearing Mike apart – Don could hear it. He fought Leo mindlessly as the shrieks intensified. Their brother HAD to be dead by now, HAD to at least have lost consciousness – why wouldn't he stop screaming!?
"Not you!" Leo repeated, shoving Don's shoulders down for the dozenth time.
And then the claws came out of the darkness at them.
Donatello, ninja- and brother-trained, had snatched up his bo and gained his feet before his eyes could open. Even when they did, it took a few moments for his grip to slacken, his breathing to slow and his focus to beat back the fighter's adrenaline surging through his sleep-thickened blood.
The living room was cold, deserted, and dustier than he'd realized by flashlight a few hours before. The first thin grey wash of dawn had seeped in through the boarded-up windows, now, revealing the strange marks of his footprints on the dulled farmhouse floor. He noted the camp blanket rumpled at his feet, the yellow crumble of foam stuffing torn by some growing rodent family and trailing out of the couch cushions he'd borrowed for sleep.
Sleep. He snorted involuntarily. As if. He swiped a wrist across his face and turned to pack.
Some time later, Don leaned his forehead wearily against the kitchen door's windowpane, his drink steaming up the glass and tickling at his nostrils.
A soft whisper of sound told him Raph was awake now, too. "Want some coffee?" he offered without looking around.
Raph made a grumbling noise of negation, then took the battered mug anyway. He muttered into the rim, "...too blasted early..."
Don shrugged and didn't order him to get his own. They were all exhausted and tense; it wouldn't do to snap his own frustration at his brother.
A thin cloud slipped out from the berry-picking hill, catching enough of the coming sun to leave a purple spot dancing in front of Don's eyes. "Mike used to love sunrises..." he mused.
"Well, he's missin' this one." Raph shoved the mug back at him and glared through the glass. "I heard yelling," he said after a moment. "You dreamed again?"
"Not exactly," he corrected. "I think I had more of a classic dream this morning, subconscious processing of stress. At some level, of course, dreams are just a psychic manifestation of anxiety that – "
His brother shifted impatiently. "Can't ya just say you had a nightmare?"
The edge of the sun heaved into view, brilliant and cold. They watched it through the open patch where they'd pried a board loose, the night before.
"Did you dream?" Don countered.
No answer.
He sighed. "I guess it's time we head out," he said, moving to the counter to re-pack the tiny camp stove.
When they reached the barn, they found Leonardo already waiting, focused and ready, his shoulders faintly steaming from the katas he'd performed. As they shrugged on the last of their gear together, Don watched his brothers, weighing the reluctance under Leo's thin veneer of calm and Raph's carefully posed indifference.
"We don't have to do this," he reminded them.
Raph glared. "You talked pretty big back in the City about comin' out here," he said. "You said it was the only way to get him to quit showing up in our heads every night."
Don lifted his palms in appeal. "I don't know anything for certain, Raph," he said. "All I said was, it's possible the Great Turtle needs our help. If you don't want to come, you could stay behind with Mike."
Leo, bent over to adjust his kneepad, just tugged a little harder on the straps.
Don secured his bo staff across his back shell and turned to look back at the farmhouse, hiding his own apprehension.
It didn't help. Time had not been kind to the old building. The peeling paint and sagging porch spoke clearly of all the years it had sat empty. Don knew there were structural problems, things that could actually be explained and defined, that gave it the seedy, run-down air. But the idea that stuck in his head was: It's dead. The soul of the house is gone.
And they were leaving Mike to it...
Raph hunched his shell into the ragged cape he favored. "It's not gonna get any easier for waitin'."
"True." Leo brushed at the dark stain on one of his leather elbow pads. "Let's go."
Don shivered as they turned away. But somehow, with each step that took them further from the house, he felt lighter, more confident they were doing the right thing. The Turtles melted into the underbrush, carefully silent. He found it easier than he'd expected to fall into the old rhythms of forest stealth and secrecy, even after their years back in the City – although one major difference remained between those long-ago days, and now.
Three move differently than four.
But then, halfway up the second hill, they caught sight of someone sitting beside of the path. He must have snuck out when Leo went out for his katas, Don thought. Mike.
A bold move... Mike had begged them to let him come north. Leo accepted only when he promised he would stay at the farmhouse as rear guard until they returned.
Mike stood up when they approached. Leo passed him without a word, and after a moment's hesitation, Mike fell in behind Raph and Don, picking up the steady, mile-eating trot Leo had set.
Don wasn't sure if he'd expected it or not. He watched Leo for some kind of reaction, but only a tensing of the lead Turtle's shoulders showed he was even aware of Mike's presence. Silently, Don adopted Mike's choice to join them into their plans.
Together, the four continued up the hill. Looking closely in the early sunlight, Don could begin to see odd changes emerging in the vegetation around them – ferns were larger, here, and something like black creeper vines twisted up unnerving trees just off the path. The familiar forests of the Connecticut River Valley were transforming around them into the jungle they recognized from their restless dreams of the past three weeks.
The brothers paused at the crest, Leo signaling them to wait while he climbed what might once have been a maple tree.
"Look over there," Mike said, pointing to where some tall undergrowth had sprouted hairy pods. "It's already happening."
Don had already reconciled himself to the oncoming change. Wordlessly, he handed some of his extra gear to Mike, who stuffed it into a hastily-stocked hiking pack.
Raph, however, was fingering his sai. "This sucks," he snapped. "I hate bein' here."
Don winced, looking around as though someone might have heard. He thought back to the kind, melancholy voice that had haunted the strange land those years ago. I wonder if the Great Turtle's the type to be offended. "But Raph, there shouldn't be a – a mammal-thing – this time."
"Yeah, who knows what kind o' monster's gonna get thrown at us instead."
Don swallowed, remembering the morning's dream.
Suddenly, Raph snorted, stepping closer and flicking at the pouch of riverstones hanging at Don's belt. "'Shouldn't be a mammal-thing,'" he echoed. "Looks like you didn't leave your magic crap at home, though."
"It's not magic," he snapped as Mike watched nervously. "They're tools of the earth, for balance. And no..." he conceded, because they didn't have time to waste on being at each other's throats. "...I don't know what to expect out here."
Don fingered the rough cloth around the stones, the ones he'd used so many years ago to try to save their lives. In that other world, they had become the substitute for his prized technology, used to strengthen the connection between himself and the spirit that had called them with such need.
He had no idea if they would fail this time, too.
Arguing about it would be pointless. They'd been called by the dreams to venture again into a prehistoric version of the western Massachusetts hills, and they'd agreed. A few minutes more, and they would finish the plunge into its valley and whatever dangers it held.
"It'll be different this time," Mike said hopefully.
Only Mike, when they'd finally called him, had claimed to be excited by the dreams instead of disturbed. In fact, he dove into embellishing them, weaving memory-scenes of the Turtles' journey through this strange, ancient jungle so many years ago with fresh wonder. It wasn't surprising, really, Don thought in retrospect, looking more closely at that brother. Mike had always been the most fearless of them all. He was the one who always found the humor in what could have so easily been macabre in their lives.
But there was little humor now.
He nodded, realizing both Mike and Raph were waiting for some kind of response. "Of course it'll be different," he said.
Raph muttered something and stared up through the limbs where Leo had disappeared. Mike, grinning a little, chewed at a nail.
No humor... The tension between Mike and the rest of them was still too intense, like a thin vibration on a tight-pulled string. Almost two years this way, and it hadn't faded – only gone underground.
Don decided that about this, too, he wasn't surprised. After all, Mike had destroyed nearly everything they'd cherished in that one impulsive, selfish decision.
Suddenly, he felt a strange chill come over him. It was nothing the extra gear he wore could keep out — it came from inside himself, from the oldest core of his being, the most primitive part of his mind. It was followed immediately by a warm rush outward from that same place, a sense of love and acceptance — and urgency.
The tree rustled, and Leo dropped from its lowest limb. "Northeast," he announced.
"Let's go," Don heard a voice answer in low command. He was almost surprised to realize it was his own.
It took only two hours before the strain between Michaelangelo and Leonardo thickened into a presence worse than that of the ancient jungle's fog years ago.
Leo fought down another wave of irritation as he turned and saw Mike lagging again. I should never have allowed him to come...he's a liability out here. He pulled to a stop at a wide space under the trees. "Mike! Hurry up!"
Raph, too, eyed their approaching brother with obvious misgivings. They watched as their brother broke into a trot for the final few yards, his breathing labored. "You been lettin' yourself get all soft in the City?" Raph said as Mike came up. His gruff tone was spoiled by the question in his voice.
"No, I'm — "
"Holding us up?" Leo suggested acidly.
Mike's eyes narrowed. "You telling us that all of a sudden you know where we're going, Leo? Huh? You in a hurry to get someplace I don't know about?" he demanded, gesturing sharply at the deep green shadows around them, and Leo felt his fists clench. I'm going to slug him, so help me –
"Hold it!" Don stepped between him and Mike, warding them from each other. "We don't have time for you two to hash this out again."
"What's the rush, if we don't have any place else to be?" Leo heard himself say. Heat pounded behind his eyes. He took a step forward, thinking only of the arrogant look on Mike's face. Where does he get the gall to challenge meHe dropped into a smooth, practiced move he knew Mike would respond to with answering aggression, intending to force his brother to understand the mistake he'd made —
— and found himself on the receiving end of a well-placed bo's block. Before he could even register his astonishment, Don followed through by sweeping his leader's legs out from under him.
"We do NOT have time for this," Don said again, with a flat emphasis that took some of the edge off Leo's anger.
Behind them, Raph had forced Mike back off the trail and pinned him to a tree. "You two have got to stop this," he seconded. "It gets real old, especially when I can't just let you pound on each other 'til you get it out of your systems."
"What do you mean? You think I can't take him?!" Mike raged.
Raph cuffed his brother lightly with his free hand. "Nah, he just gets pissy when you kick his ass."
Leo rolled to his feet and stood stiffly away from his brothers. The anger was only beginning to fade into recognition that he had lost control. He had a feeling that he would regret it more as the day wore on.
Mike shook off Raph's containing grip and stood against the tree.
"Don't patronize me," he said softly. "I can't kick his ass. I haven't kicked anybody's anything in...I don't know how long."
Leo opened his mouth.
"Shut the hell up, Leo," Mike cut him off tiredly, his voice resigned. "I give up. You were right. I shouldn't've tried to come."
It took a moment, with emotions running so high, for that to sink in.
"What are you saying?" Raph demanded.
Mike paused for a moment, eyes on Leo, as though waiting for a protest. Then: "I'm saying, I'm outta here." He turned back the way they had come.
Leo shrugged. Began scanning for a clear path again. But a growl built behind him. Mike had gone only a few dozen yards before Raph stormed after, grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back through the trees, casually disabling each of Mike's furious attempts to free himself.
Leo suddenly realized what his brother was doing and jerked away – too late. Raph had snagged the back of his carapace, and he shoved the two together. Leo turned his head to avoid having to look at Mike's defiled face.
"You make nice," Raph said in a voice that chilled the air. "You walk. And you don't give any of the craptastic creatures runnin' around this godforsaken place any more advantage than they've already got. Got it?"
Leo matched Raph's steely glare, then slid his eyes sideways to look Mike up and down, one slow time, his lip curled slightly in contempt.
"Tell Mike," he said in a low voice, "to keep up."
They heard nothing of the Great Turtle's voice that day.