Chapter Thirteen

The rain was in thick sheets spreading out over the field as they headed past the last remaining hills to a steep decline into a vegetation of vines and high grass. This was swollen with rain water, this valley of marsh, that the group walked through was less easier to get through to as they walked helping those who had a harder time with water on their shoulders. It was a while as they made it to a decent tree that they made camp up inside it using wood they gathered and dried with magic to make a tree fire.

"Michelangelo." A blue shivered as he spoke, "Do you think any of the others survived? The other groups ahead of us?"

Michelangelo shrugged before taking a breath his voice was broken up as he thought of all the people that were ahead of them in this area or that he had ran into when they had made meetings for information exchanging. He eyed the outcropping of high trees with no leaves, dead from the fires that magic wrath and real fire caused, before he spoke in a soft voice, "All I know is I sent messengers to them all in hopes of a meeting. IF they are there we will know how many survived this damage that has taken many of our own in this group."

The blue nodded weakly before he moved dangling his feet off the branch eyes narrowed over the whole expanse of forest, "It is beautiful if not wrecked by destruction."

"Beauty is many things," Michelangelo whispered, "but it lays in the eyes of one who sees the world as above the standard of light and the dark, the green and the ash of the destroyed world." The turtle looked at his comrades all huddled together, "We, our family, shall stand strong. From this point on we will begin training so that no one will be the weakest member of our group. We will not allow our fears to destroy us. That song we will counter with our own."

He took a breath and stood up, "Everyone hear that!" The chorus of his comrades screaming their tears, their anger, and other emotions of 'yes, Black-sama' had him raise his hand a white platform building itself in the air as he stepped onto it a soft call forming in his throat as he looked up at the stars before he slowly began to dance to his fallen comrades to send them to peace and to allow those in his group time to heal as he did the complicated dance.

Fifty men and animal humanoids had survived the battle with Hun and his men. Michelangelo couldn't stop feeling it was his fault. He let his people fall victim to a terrible death. His eyes were straight ahead but he was seeing as if in a fog. The camp was coming into view and there was fire, there were tents, and there were people coming forward from them to a rather strong, complicated magical barrier fearful of stepping out and worried about letting anyone else in.

Michelangelo understood their fears but at this moment they had to get his weary few troops to a magically enlarged tent for medical treatment. HE still had a few severely wounded. Michelangelo looked down at the ground before he peeked at Charles with a small smile, "We made it."

"Almost. Still got to get inside." Charles smiles back but he leaned down nuzzling Michelangelo's shoulder, "Then we are safe like you and I both want."

They reached the barrier before the shield slowly dropped and many of those inside shuffled about helping the many different colors to specific tents. Michelangelo felt panic at the separation of his company but a hand came down upon his shoulder his head snapped to the side a knife in his and made of wind pressed into the person's stomach, instinct now, and he looked up, up... wow, This person is tall… into the dragon red eyes glinting gold here and there. His hand dropped, Michelangelo quickly took stalk of his disheveled attire and broken arm in a sling, before he questioned, "Are there any other blacks?"

"You're the first and only one we've seen since-." The dragon paused obviously taking a moment to collect his emotions, "Each of our own leaders had been killed in their battles against the Dusks."

Michelangelo couldn't hide his horror at the mere thought before he stepped back, "No! That'... that is im-." He snapped out of slightly before his brother's face slipping forward into his mind, "My brother! Leonardo, was he in any company here?"

"I do not know. Many of them have yet to show or we came across massacres during our travel of other dusk companies. Please, can we discuss this with little less public means of those around us, black?" The dragon uneasily eyed the small group looking them over uncertainly.

"Oh, yes, sorry." Michelangelo stood up moving to follow the dragon who obviously knew the camp more than him.

They came to a secluded section of the camp and the dragon looked down at Michelangelo waiting for anything that the turtle might state.

"I was barely put into the position of command here of this camp from the fact I was quick to take control of the situation after our commanding officers died. After we got your message, as I am now positive it was you who sent it, my company joined two others on the way here who got your message in the same way as I had." The dragon stated upon Michelangelo's questioning gaze as to why he came forward to talk to the black instead of anyone else.

Michelangelo nodded, "Thank god they had a leader for the most part..." Michelangelo turned his head thinking on everything that had happened in this war. Amel would have come up with something, but Amel was the enemy now. He turned his head back, "Do you have anyone you trust, four people form the group you are in. Red would be the best."

"Yes..." The Dragon shifted standing taller than Michelangelo, he towered at nearly eight feet, and Michelangelo cranked his neck up further to just get a view of the Dragon's chin, "I take it you want the position of command."

"I don't want it, no, but I'm going to make sure we're safe before someone challenges for it." Michelangelo bared his teeth stating that now would not be the time to fight. The Dragon seemed to approve of this statement as he left Michelangelo who stood there finally allowing his fear rolling over his body.

He could not believe that his brother was indeed dead. After all this time fighting, all this time in the war, training, his brother was the strongest of them all. Yet somewhere inside him he felt Leonardo still existing, neither evil nor good, and he felt the exhaustion slowly begin to crawl into his system. He'd have to assign someone as his second... Right now he needed to set up something that was a leading role for these men who lost so much and gained very little but doing it dead on his feet was literally impossible.