SIX
'Fold it, like this,' Babamon explained, pressing the gooey dough out for the third time and demonstrating to Salamon.
The Rookie tried to copy, but once again her short legs stopped her from being able to manipulate the dough properly.
With a defeated sigh, she sat back on her hind legs on the table, pouting.
Babamon laughed softly, scratching her tentatively behind her ear.
'You'll get there kiddo.'
'How do I make my legs grow?' Salamon asked, half joking.
'You eat!' Babamon replied with a smile, handing a sweet roll from the tray cooling on the edge of the table.
Salamon tore into it gratefully, following the advice she was given about trusting her animal instincts. Babamon watched her contently, elbow resting on the edge of the table and chin atop her fist.
'You're getting some meat on those bones finally,' Babamon observed.
Salamon blushed, glancing down over herself, noticing her front legs were noticeably thicker than they had been a few days ago. She hadn't been moving a lot recently, being stuck in the kitchen.
Thus far, she hadn't had any backlash from hiding out down below, so she figured either Myotismon had forgotten about her, or he didn't care. She didn't mind either way if she was honest, just as long as she didn't have to face anything like what she'd seen.
'I should probably go back to Phantomon's training sessions soon,' she mumbled.
Babamon sighed, shaking her head.
'A little thing like you isn't suited for battle. I don't know what the Master is playing at trying to train you up.'
Salamon shrugged, biting into another piece of the sweet roll.
Suddenly, Babamon's expression changed to a grin and she busied herself collecting water into a copper saucepan over the fire and laying out an ornate tea set on a silver tray. Salamon watched as she clattered around and bundled some strange plant leaves into a teapot.
When the water had boiled, Babamon took a cloth and wrapped it around the handle of the saucepan, pouring the contents into the teapot and over the leaves.
'What's that?' Salmon questioned, teetering over the edge of the table.
Behind her long hair, Babamon winked.
'The Master's favourite tea. Always good if you want to sweeten him up before asking him something… Come!'
Slightly dazed, she followed the womon from the kitchen and through the castle, walking the familiar route up to Myotismon's study. She shuddered as they rounded the final corner and a knot began to twist in her stomach as they stood outside the door.
Taking a few steps away as Babamon knocked, Salamon hoped he wouldn't answer. She wasn't ready to face him again after the events with Gotsumon and Gazimon - she didn't think she'd ever be ready to face him again after that.
'Come,' the familiar deep voice barked from inside.
Babamon balanced the tray in one hand and opened the door, nodding her head for Salamon to follow. Timidly, she did, hiding behind Babamon's skirt and not daring to even glance up at Myotismon as Babamon set out the tea set on a side table.
'Tea, My Lord?' she asked nonchalantly, lifting the pot.
He ignored her and from the corner of her eye, Salamon glanced at him. His eyes were fixed downwards, burning a hole into the manuscript before him, his jaw was clamped tight, fangs indenting into his bottom lip.
When he didn't respond, Babamon poured the tea from the pot into the cup and placed it on the desk across from Myotismon, a quiet "chink" chimed as delicate china hit solid wood.
Babamon stayed stood behind the desk, unseen eyes challenging Myotismon's blatent ignorance.
'You may leave,' he finally told her, glare unmoving. 'And take your pet too.'
Salamon flinched and ducked behind the side table leg, hearing the teapot protest above as she disrupted the stand.
'My pet?' Babamon asked. 'Now you know that's not true, Master.'
'What do you want, Babamon?'
He finally let out a sigh and sat straight, a glare and pursed lips settling on the old womon.
'I would like to request permission to keep Salamon with me in the kitchens. She has been useful these past few days and since you've taken away two of my staff, I'm in need of at least another pair of paws.'
Salamon admired her willingness to challenge him. Babamon would be an amazing mentor to her, she was sure of it. Myotismon didn't want her anymore, so Salamon could stay down in the kitchen and learn from Babamon. It would be perfect. No more Phantomon, no more getting people into trouble…
'No.'
The blunt reply visibly made Babamon stumble, bangs crumpling as she frowned.
'She's of no use to you up here-' she began to argue.
'Quiet!' Myotismon snapped, hands slamming against the desk as he rose to his feet. 'She is mine to do with as I wish', he growled, eyes bearing down at the womon.
'Lord Myotismon please, at least until she is a Champion. You'll burn her out.'
'So she can learn to become like the rest of your kitchen boys? Idle? Lazy? Tardy? Incompetent?'
'You know they're a damn site more competent than those brutes you have parading around the training ground!'
At this, Myotismon fell silent, stare burning with anger at Babamon. Salamon retreated further under the table, quivering subconsciously. She was afraid of Myotismon, of what he would do to Babamon for daring to challenge him.
After a few moments, silence dragging them out uncomfortably long, Myotismon rose and rounded the desk, perching in front of Babamon. An exaggerated sigh came from him as he lifted the tea cup, making a show of smelling the drink and taking a delicate sip, keeping the cup raised when he swallowed.
'You're skills are slipping, Babamon… Remind me what I keep you around for?'
Babamon's jaw clenched tight enough for Salamon to notice from across the room. At her side, ashen hands balled into fists.
'You know very well,' Babamon said in a low tone.
Myotismon smirked, glancing down into the cup, swirling it in his hand before cocking his head to one side.
'You've become so thorny in your old age,' he murmured before tipping the tea above her head.
A gasp escaped Salamon's lips as hot tea poured over the pale haired mon. Babamon seemingly stayed still and silent, the tea thankfully cooled enough not to burn her. It was only her cheeks that burnt from embarrassment.
Salamon's stare flicked between Babamon and Myotismon, neither of them saying a thing for a few moments before Myotismon placed the teacup back on the saucer on his desk, taking his seat and sliding the cup towards Babamon.
'You may leave,' he told her.
Keeping quiet, Babamon turned on her heels, leaving the tray and going to the door. She opened it and waited for Salamon to scamper over.
'Not you.'
Salamon faltered, staring at Myotismon with wide eyes.
'I didn't agree to you working in the kitchens, did I?'
Salamon shook her head. It was true after all, and he'd been very clear about it.
She glanced up to Babamon with a pleading look, but the womon only shook her head and let out a small sigh.
'When you grow bored of her, she will always be welcome in the kitchens,' Babamon told them both before exiting, shutting the door hard behind her.
The bang echoed through the corridor outside, as did Babamon's slowly silencing footsteps.
Myotismon ignored Salamon as she stood, frozen in the spot Babamon had left her in. She was unsure what to do, or say. Before, she would have settled at his feet, but she had a feeling if she tried something like that now, she would be kicked away. She knew how violent he could be now, and she was keeping out of his striking zone. She had a feeling she would have to be a lot more wary around him now.
'You've missed a lot of training,' Myotismon said eventually.
Again, she was unsure how to respond.
'Yes sir,' she decided on with a small nod of her head, ears pressed against the sides.
'I think I will have to have some one on one sessions with you to bring you back up to speed.'
She blinked, missing a beat.
'W-what?'
'In fact, there's no time like the present,' he said, a smirk suddenly plastered over his face as he rose to his feet. 'Come!'
She had no option when he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, ear caught under his fingers causing her to yelp in pain.
He took her far down into the depths of the castle, lower than the kitchens and deeper than she'd been before. Along the way, her cheeks burned with embarrassment as Digimon they passed stared and whispered amongst themselves, Myotismon snapping at them to get back to work before he punished them.
Finally, they came to a halt at the top of a roughly carved flight of stone steps. They were in a large cavern and as Salamon regained her balance and orientation after Myotismon tossed her to the floor, she observed the structure. There was water dripping somewhere, close enough to hear but too far to see. There was little light, and Salamon strained her eyes to make out anything beyond the bottom of the steps.
'Where are we?' she asked, forgetting the situation for a moment.
'It used to be a natural spring hundreds of years ago, but the water dried up and the castle was built from the rich materials harvested from under here… Or so I'm told.'
She stepped precariously to the edge of the top step, stretching her neck and opening her eyes as wide as they would go.
'Phantomon informs me you still haven't been able to attack, but you're competent at avoiding getting hit.'
She turned to him to find him stood closer than he had been, the tips of his boots almost pressing against her toes. She jumped, and resisted the urge to step backwards, remembering the long way down behind.
With a flick of his wrist, a red stream of pulsing electricity formed in his hand, sending a red glow around the cavern.
Salamon gulped, the red flashes she'd only seen the once somehow burning her eyelids as she blinked, remembering the death that had accompanied that bloody stream when he had used it, and then, when his other attack had finished Gazimon and Gotsumon.
'Master…' she squeaked, shaking too much to raise her voice any higher.
Despite there being no distance between them, Myotismon trod closer, forcing Salamon to retreat down a step.
'Let's see just how good you are.'
She expected the lightning to hit her, but instead, she felt the underside of his boot connect painfully with her face, pushing her already unsteady body back and tumbling down the stairs.
Unable to cry or shout or scream, her mind seemed to almost blur out the pain and with her eyes squeezed shut, she didn't see the cavern spinning around her or the twisted purple smirk above her.
When she eventually slumped to a stop however, the pain was intense. Winded, she choked for breath, lungs and ribs screaming for her to stay still, legs refusing to support her weight. Her head span and she felt bile churning in her stomach. It hurt, and she couldn't recall anything ever hurting so much in her life.
A quiet cackle came from the top of the steps.
'Pathetic.'
'No!' a voice she wasn't sure was her own until Myotismon's surprised expression said otherwise.
Gritting her teeth, cursing the pain, cursing the one who inflicted it, she got to her feet. Her eyes shut tight as she fought back stupid tears she waited for another strike.
'No?'
Salamon shook her head.
'I'm still standing!' she barked.
She glared at the vampire Lord, wishing she could hurt him and make him feel the searing pain she was in, wishing she could wreak vengeance for Gazimon and Gotsumon. But all she could do was stare, and bare her teeth, and hate the one who had hurt her with a burning rage.
For a moment, the pair stared each other down, two wolves ready to tear the other's throat out.
'Those eyes,' Myotismon snarled.
'Huh?'
The statement caught Salamon off guard. Her ears cocked back before she shook her head. This was no time to be pathetic or curious she reminded herself.
'Every time you look at me with those eyes I shall have to hurt you,' Myotismon warned.
Without hesitation, and before she could question, not know what look he meant - as far as she was aware, all she was doing was glaring at him as anyone would - Myotismon raised his hand, wrist flicking again and the red electricity flickering into the air. The stream bolted against Salamon, reaching out to its target, crackling and fizzing as it burnt her fur and scorched her skin below.
She was unsure how to react, not sure if she was more angry or in pain or whether to cry or curse Myotismon with every bad word she had learnt whilst helping in the kitchens.
Then again, what would be the point? He would just attack her and punish her again, and the next time, it might be worse. She should count herself lucky she wasn't like Gazimon and Gotsumon.
She resigned herself to bowing her head, hiding the tears that were pooling in her eyes as Myotismon recalled his whip, the smell of ozone fizzling into Salamon's nostrils.
Apparently content with her reaction and her punishment, Myotismon let out a quiet laugh, the small sound reverberating around the cavern, Salamon not daring to look up at him.
'From now on, no more slip ups, no more hiding in the kitchens and trailing at Babamon's skirts. You are to be a soldier, not some house critter. I have no need for pets.'
'Yes master,' Salamon said with a nod of her head, still keeping her eyes turned down.
'Go to my office. You'll be starting early tomorrow to make up for what you've missed,' he told her.
Repeating her previous statement, she waited until he had turned his back before beginning her painful ascent up the stairs, legs and ribs complaining with every step and eyes and forehead stinging from Myotismon's strike as she wiped sweat from her brow.
Myotismon had disappeared by the time she reached the top so she decided to take her time going back, skipping the stupid thought that crossed her mind to visit the kitchens.
Myotismon was right, and he had been clear about why she was here and why he had saved her those weeks ago. She was still reluctant though. Her ambition to become an officer had all but been forgotten during her days in the kitchen with Babamon, the admittedly easy workload appealing to her a lot more than training with Phantomon and being around Myotismon's volatile personality. Maybe from now on if she just kept her head down and did exactly as she was told she would avoid getting anymore punishments, and especially getting anyone else hurt or killed.
She wasn't sure when she had reached the study, but was relieved to find the door open and her blanket still where it had been left.
Wincing with pain, she tried to get comfortable, ribs aching as she tried to lay her usual way so settling instead on lying on her back, paws ungracefully sprawled beside her at awkward angles. But it didn't hurt, and slowly, after twenty minutes of jumping at every sound, expecting Myotismon to storm through the door at any moment and attack her again, she drifted into sleep, nightmares which took form in the shape of a tall, blond figure plaguing her and making her toss and turn and sweat.