Raph was moderately surprised to find that neither of the slugs had abandoned him in the night and they actually seemed to be quite set on the notion of becoming his traveling companions. It was obvious that he couldn't put it off any longer; he would have to give them names.
He called the first one Friender (because of its seeming knack for making friends with nearly every slug it met), and the second one Diego (because why not?).
That concluded the first order of business for the morning. The second order of business was somewhat less clear, and would likely be less successful.
Being quicker of temper than wit, Raph had failed utterly to consider how very many caverns he might be facing, much less the distances that surely must arise between them. What he had considered was that his brothers might be here somewhere and, even if they were not, that there must surely be a way out. He had, after all, gotten in somehow hadn't he? In any case, a journey was called for.
He had, of course, heard of the notion of staying where you were if you were lost. But he had not admitted to being lost, only to not knowing where he was (which, he felt, was a different kettle of fish entirely. Not that he was hungry or anything, but a kettle of fish sounded pretty good, even though he wasn't altogether certain what one of those really was).
In any case, he'd already failed completely where staying was concerned, and here was no place to stay. Aside from being slightly full of lava for his taste, Raph felt sure that there really wasn't any food to be found in this place (except maybe the slugs, which he was by this point thoroughly opposed to eating). And there was obviously even less water than food, and he was desperately thirsty as well as hungry.
"I wonder what you guys eat," Raph said to the slugs, after telling them their names.
The slugs looked around. Then Diego the Lavalynx hopped off and returned a few minutes later with a rather blackened, odd looking berry from a plant Raph certainly couldn't see from where he was. Friender the Fandango looked moderately appalled. Evidently the two didn't enjoy the same foods. Diego ate the berry after Raph had a look at it and decided that he agreed with Friender on this one.
Diego chittered happily and hopped up a pile of rocks and then sprang onto Raph's shoulder. Friender, who had been sitting in Raph's hand, gibbered insistently until Raph helped him join Diego. Raph wasn't clear on whether the slugs he had were male or female, and something in the back of his mind suggested that slugs were one of those weird animals that was both at the same time, or maybe one after the other, but he decided for the sake of his own peace of mind to call them both 'he' instead of 'it'.
Raph then thought about the two options at his disposal. He could either try to make it across this hazardous cavern of crumbling black rocks and lava, or else he could turn around and take the tunnel he'd decided not to take the night before. Or, of course, he could go back the way he'd come and see if there wasn't some other way to go that he hadn't noticed before. Three options then. And he wasn't particularly pleased with any of them, truth be known.
He decided to continue doing what he had been doing. He asked the slugs what they thought about it.
With total disregard for the disdain and open laughter many had for those who spoke to animals, Raph detailed his problems to the slugs. He told them that he had three brothers that might be lost like himself. He explained that he needed to find them and, more immediately, some water (and he wouldn't say no to a bite of food as well). He also expressed his desire to avoid ghouls where possible (and really, he admitted with reluctance, trouble of any sort). He explained everything of relevance that he could think of. And then, having done so, he asked the slugs what they thought he should do.
The slugs had listened more and less attentively, with Friender being the more and Diego being the less. They now turned to each other and chirped amongst themselves.
Though both were wild slugs, they knew a bit about slingers, and were quite certain that asking slugs for directions was highly irregular. They weren't sure whether to be honored or worried about it. Being wild, they had never had cause to figure out exactly what it was that slingers ate, and neither of them had seen a slinger like Raph before anyway, so they hadn't a clue where to find three more like him. But one thing they did know was the caverns of Slugterra.
After a bit of debate, they decided that the best thing to do would be to guide Raph to a populated cavern, in the hopes that other people might be more effective at solving his problems. As a backup plan, they determined to take him to different types of inhabited caverns, all the way to Quiet Lawns Cavern if absolutely necessary. They were agreed on helping him (though Friender was more thoroughly so on this point, having known Raph for longer, and having been defended from ghouls by him), and if it took awhile to solve his problems, then it would simply take awhile.
They argued a bit about which way he should go. Diego was set on the notion of the nearest cavern, but Friender was equally convinced that the relative distance was of less import than the relative friendliness of the people that lived there. He reminded Diego that Raph had expressed the desire to avoid trouble, and Diego reluctantly conceded his point.
To Raph, it was all just gibbering and wild gesturing, but at least they seemed to be discussing the issue. It was Friender who finally addressed him directly, looking him dead in the eye and pointing at the lakes of lava. Raph sighed wearily. He'd been afraid of that. More out of the desire to keep Diego from feeling inadequate than anything, Raph gave the second slug a glance. Diego shrugged, but then pointed in the same direction. Well, the slugs were agreed then.
"Across the lava cave it is, then," Raph said, trying to muster up something akin to lively enthusiasm about the venture, but the closest he could come was a bit of lethargic apathy.
He tested his bitten leg, and it seemed to be able to at least briefly hold some weight. Even so, he realized this was going to be a slow, and rather painful, journey. He hoped he didn't have far to go.
Don regained consciousness, and immediately regretted it.
Unlike Raph, he was not surprised to find himself still in the company of slugs. What did surprise him was that they were all loose. When he had passed out, they'd still been in the container. But now they were sprawled out around him (some of them were on top of him, but he hadn't noticed these) in various states of repose, and a small pile of still smoking ashes in front of him suggested there had been a fire there not long ago.
There was also a curious pile of nuts, seeds, berries and other tiny bits of plants, including some three distinct types of leaf. The pile was about six inches high and more of a pyramid than anything.
Don took all of this in only after it had become apparent to him that he was hurt. The reason he regretted his consciousness returning to him was that the first thing it let him know was that his shoulder was stiff, sore and that was before he even tried moving it at all.
An examination revealed that the damage began in the space between the two parts of his shell. A single, deep gash ran across the top of his shoulder. As it traveled down his arm, it wove from side to side and was sometimes joined by a second, equally deep, claw mark. These two marks terminated just above the elbow, though a deep gouge was in his forearm just past the elbow, a third claw no doubt. The tendon and muscle damage was extensive.
Don found he couldn't lift his arm hardly at all, and even attempting to do so hurt tremendously more than the effort was worth. The remarkable thing about bodies is that every part of them is connected. The gouge at his elbow did damage to his left hand as well (that being where related tendons connected), preventing all but one finger from moving.
Other parts of his body were bruised and battered, and some muscles felt strained as a result of his frantic escape attempts. Moving at all was agony, and he wondered if there was any reason to do it.
He groaned and shifted slightly. A cascade of squeaking slugs tumbled down off him and landed in a heap on the ground. He blinked at them without comprehension, wondering where they'd come from, and if there was any reason he should care. He wasn't really thinking clearly, but especially unclearly for him. Whether it was grogginess of sleep, disorientation or perhaps just blood loss was unclear as well. But, whatever the case, the pile of slugs seemed more interesting than it had any right to be.
An absurdly chipper looking reddish-orange and white slug righted itself and climbed up on top of the heap. It chirped cheerfully, and that got the other slugs' rather lackadaisical attention. The red-orange slug then hopped over to the pile of plants. It seemed to be looking at Don expectantly, then it glanced at the pile. It pointed with a flipper-like limb and chattered at Don.
Don continued to stare at it. He felt rather foolish about it, but he couldn't think of anything better to do with himself, since almost anything else required moving and he had already exhausted the possibilities there and found none of them to be appealing.
The slug fumed. It fumed so hard a tiny spark erupted on top of its head and then puffed out. It opened its mouth wide and pointed into its mouth with the flipper. It said "Ah".
"You want to go to the dentist," Don suggested.
The slug fumed at him again, and repeated the gesture.
"You want me to feed you," Don theorized.
The slug slapped its forehead with the flipper. It then picked up a berry, stuffed it in its mouth, munched it up and swallowed it. Then it picked up another berry, set it on the ground and very carefully rolled it towards Don. It nodded encouragingly, saying "Eh!"
Comprehension dawdled up out of the dark recesses of Don's mind and crawled awkwardly across his face. Without saying anything about it, he slowly moved his right hand enough to pick up the berry and put it in his mouth. It was very small, virtually tasteless, but otherwise not objectionable.
The slug applauded as though it was a proud parent who had just seen their child walk for the first time.
They repeated the communication process, more successfully with each repetition, and it was only after the third time that it finally dawned on Don that this was truly remarkable. Something about being a talking turtle raised by a rat had dulled his sense of the fantastic.
"You can talk," Don said to the slug.
It tilted its head, as though trying to fathom the significance of this statement, rather than understand it at all. Don couldn't think of anything else to say for awhile. The slug understood speech. It had clearly communicated in a way that was very human. The slugs had built the fire. They had gathered the food. They had... well... they'd been taking care of him the same way people would.
Don had understood their weaponized significance fairly rapidly, and had recognized that the slugs were afraid of becoming ghouls, but it only now dawned on him that they were also intelligent.
"Amazing," he said finally and, at last locating his wayward manners, added, "Thanks, guys."
Leo had thought he was the first one up the next morning, but he soon found out that he was wrong. He found Eli a respectable number of yards from camp, playing with his slugs.
"You're up early," Leo remarked.
"Couldn't sleep," Eli admitted, "I was thinking about that mutagen stuff you told us about. You're really a mutant?" he couldn't help but ask again.
He was used to the people of Slugterra, many of whom were not human, but troll or Molenoid or something even more remarkable. However, not one of them was a "mutant". The closest thing Eli had ever seen to a mutant was a ghoul, and the two turtles seemed nothing like one of those.
"Would my saying it again make it more believable?" Leo asked, then answered himself, "Mutagen is one of those things you kinda have to see to believe. I mean, I am what I am because of it, but I don't remember ever being any other way. It didn't become real for me until I saw it work on someone else."
He held up his hand and Cappy the Tazerling hopped out onto it.
"Sort of like these slugs. If you'd told me about them, I probably wouldn't have believed it. Even with all I've seen, nothing prepared me for these guys."
"Speaking of," Eli said, "you want to learn more about the ones you have, and some ways you can use them in a fight? Your moves are pretty good, I'll admit, but watching you yesterday was painful at times. You really have no idea how to go about selecting your slugs."
"Guns aren't really my thing," Leo admitted.
"Slinging isn't really about the blaster," Eli explained, "It's about choosing your battles and, more importantly, your slugs. And also figuring out how to use them. The beginning of that is finding out what they are basically capable of, and then training with them to perfect moves based on their individual abilities. Their personality has a role to play in it too."
"Really?" Leo asked.
"Sure. Even if Burpy was... say, an Armashelt, I still wouldn't use him the same way I use Banger," Leo had no idea what an Armashelt was or which slug was Banger, but he didn't interrupt, "And, besides personality, there's also skills to consider. Burpy and Banger are very experienced slugs, and they also know me pretty well, meaning they're good at knowing exactly what I want them to do without my having to explain it to them. There's usually not a lot of time for conversation in a fight, so having slugs who know you, and that you know, is pretty important."
"So what you're saying is I should get to know my slugs better."
"Exactly."
"Alright," Leo said, "How about a friendly duel? Loser gets to keep his slugs."
Eli grinned, "Thought you'd never ask."
