Blimey. You guys were REALLY impatient this time, weren't you? I think that I got about five people asking me where I was, or if I'd died or something, when I was going to update again, and it's only been three weeks since I updated my last story. Needless to say I am sorry about taking so long – I've been relatively busy with preparations for going back to uni and meeting relatives for the last time in a while and suchlike, so this chapter took much longer than I was hoping it would. Plus, I discovered the anime Fairy Tail, which attempted to absorb me into watching it a lot and succeeded. Regardless, I am now back at university, which means that the writing should soon pick up again as soon as I get back into the swing of writing properly. Once I do, hopefully I will be updating each story every other two days like I was before.

Plus, this chapter was quite difficult to write for a number of reasons, largely because it involves something which I am not very good at doing. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it regardless and I can guarantee that the next update will be much faster.

To Be a King

Chapter 14:- The Pampered Princess

There were many things that Greymon prided himself on. His strength, both in terms of physical muscle and in terms of power, was the main one. Several of the other lesser things he was proud of were his calm attitude and level head, his ability to adapt quickly to certain situations and certainly the friends that he had made during his time as a warrior of Blue Flare.

He still remembered the time where he and Kiriha had met for the first time. It had been a fairly different circumstance from the meeting of Taiki and Shoutmon. For one thing, Kiriha had already been in the Digital World, having been brought there by Bagramon himself to act as a General for the Bagra Army. Kiriha had been wondering lost in the Mesozoic Zone, known for its wide variety of Dinosaur and similarly related Digimon.

The general attitude of the creatures of the Mesozoic Zone was that the strongest were the ones that survived. That was the law of the jungle, so they had never seen any reason why it should be different. This had been part of the reason why they had been caught flat-footed when the Bagra Army had invaded. Each of the groups of Digimon had always led solitary existences, never relying on any but their own kind, and Greymon had been considered one of the strongest of that Zone. Few of the other Digimon would have dared to bother him on his worst day.

But the Bagra Army had been different. They had worked together, albeit with some antagonism on occasion, and had stormed across the Zone in an attempt to find its Code Crown, slaying anything that stood in their path.

Greymon had encountered them and taken several of them out, but had been slightly injured in the process. Not much, but enough to give him a slight limp. And that had been when he met Kiriha.

The blond-haired kid had been under attack himself at the time. The Gaossmon who would later become a part of the Blue Flare Army had mistaken him as an enemy and were surrounding him on all sides, trying to get at him. It wouldn't have been much of a contest under most circumstances – the sheer number of Gaossmon would have overwhelmed Kiriha instantly if they had really gone for it.

But the Gaossmon had been intrigued by Kiriha and slightly wary, unsure of what he was supposed to be. Not to mention Kiriha had gotten hold of a branch and was swinging it like a mace, keeping the Gaossmon at bay.

There had been no fear in Kiriha's eyes. Only anger. And perhaps it had been that lack of fear which had drawn Greymon to Kiriha when he had spotted what was going on. Even when confronted with the massive dinosaur, Kiriha had been with very little fear, yelling at Greymon that he was strong and he would not back down from a bunch of 'overgrown lizards.'

Greymon had been further intrigued, and any thought of taking this human for a meal was banished from his mind. The desire in both of them to become stronger quickly became apparent as they conversed, and before long Greymon decided that he actually liked this little guy, which had been a bizarre concept in itself at the time – he'd never really liked anybody before that. He'd never needed to.

Then there had been the explosions which had distracted both of their attentions. Greymon had snarled, remembering the presence of the Bagra Army and had stomped off, limping a little, to find out what was going on, Kiriha following on behind him. And that had also been the first time that Greymon had met MailBirdramon, for it was he that the Bagra Army were attacking. He had made his home atop a large plateau which was being aerially bombarded by Pteramon while a phalanx of Tankmon were firing up at him with their cannons. Greymon had seen MailBirdramon before, but had never talked to him. But right now that had not mattered. These creatures were interlopers in their Zone, and Greymon had joined the battle himself.

Neither he nor MailBirdramon had co-ordinated their attack with one another. They had just unleashed everything they had at the enemy, working separately and getting results, but certainly not watching one another's backs. Their attacking had been purely selfish, and they were both paying the price for acting alone, even despite the large number of creatures that they were decimating in the process.

Then Kiriha had taken charge. On seeing how powerful both Greymon and MailBirdramon were, and desiring to become stronger himself, he had remembered what the voice that had given him his Xros Loader had told him about the DigiXros. And in his first moment as a General, the process had begun, and suddenly Greymon and MailBirdramon found their bodies being merged with one another to form the incredibly powerful MetalGreymon.

Working together had been a brand new concept for both of them. It had never even occurred to them to watch one another's backs. But as they shared their mind and body in their new combined form, they suddenly felt the strength of the other flowing through them and they realised, for the first time, the value of a team-mate.

MetalGreymon, with his classic Giga Destroyer, had decimated the Bagra Army that day, travelling with Kiriha to take out the leader – an Allomon which had just obtained the Code Crown. Naturally they took it back from him and, after a visit from the then-mysterious Nene, they too had learned the purpose of the Code Crowns and, after little thought, Kiriha had decided on his quest to find them all.

And Greymon and MailBirdramon, both feeling a certain kinship with Kiriha and now with each other, had readily agreed to go with him, as had the Gaossmon, who had watched the whole thing. That had been how Blue Flare had formed, and they had set about tearing their own way through the Digital World until their eventual goal and mindsets had been altered by Taiki and Shoutmon of Xros Heart.

They had recruited other members of their army along the way. Deckerdramon had, of course, come from the Forest Zone. Cyberdramon had been a renegade from the Dragon Zone who had refused to bow to the Bagra Army even though they had already taken his Zone. And the Bombmon had been residents of the Factory Zone who had been sabotaging various parts of the factory and seriously annoying the Bagra Army members who ran the place.

But through all that, Greymon had only ever really worked with people of similar mind to himself. People who were straightforward and sensible, who spoke little and focused solely on the battle in hand. And then, when teaming up with Xros Heart, while their views on certain issues had been different, they too had been relatively easy to stay alongside. They were not demanding, they were not annoying. They were fighters – warriors all. At least the ones that usually stayed out of the Xros Loaders.

Bastemon, the cat princess, had not been one of those Digimon. She had spent the majority of her time in the Xros Loader. Greymon had encountered her the first time in the Lake Zone where she lived, as had Kiriha and MailBirdramon. Even then they had all found her bizarre, frustrating and a little unnerving. None of them had had experience at dealing with people like this – Bastemon had fawned over Kiriha, spent most of her time falling asleep when they were trying to talk to her and generally being unhelpful and just plain strange.

That had been a circumstance that they could not just blast their way through, and they hadn't the foggiest idea how to cope with it. In the end, they hadn't. Taiki had. And they had moved on.

After that, Greymon had had nothing to do with Bastemon. He hadn't even known she had joined Xros Heart until she had appeared in the Sword Zone with the rest of Taiki's team to help free Shoutmon X5B from one of Tactimon's attacks. And the only other times Greymon had seen her be used after that was to DigiXros with Ballistamon to either free several of them, including Greymon himself, from Olegmon's mind control chant, and also in the final battle against the Bagra Army since Shoutmon had been 'dead' at that point.

Even during the five years after that, Greymon had never really associated with the red-headed cat princess. He'd had a few conversations with her when she'd been awake and he'd been in some of his more talkative moods, and of course he had been generally friendly, but for the most part they were had little to do with one another.

This meant that one thing Greymon did not have going for him was patience. He'd rarely needed it. All the people he normally spoke to and fought with were to the point and swift. Bastemon was not. And now that they were stranded in a strange place with no clue where they were together, Bastemon was seriously beginning to drive him up the wall.

And he had neither the patience nor the practice to cope with it.

He was already beginning to regret his offer to allow Bastemon to ride on his shoulders. Bastemon might have been intending to do something like keep watch up there, but there was very little that she could see that Greymon couldn't himself. And, more importantly, she kept falling asleep, and that was getting extraordinarily annoying because every time she did, Greymon had to slow his pace down and try and make sure that she stayed balanced up there and didn't fall off, which was extremely difficult to do when she attempted to curl into a ball and catnap.

Several times, one of her long-clawed paws slipped over the side of Greymon's horned head and came to rest over one of his eyes, effectively obscuring his vision out of one side of his head. He growled in frustration whenever this happened, and at one point, she somehow managed to cover both of his eyes with one front paw and one back paw and he had to stop completely before he walked into something and Revolmon had to wake her up, which was, apparently, not an easy thing to do.

Greymon was quite grateful for Revolmon's company at a time like this. While he would have preferred someone more his speed, the little treasure hunter was a good laugh when he needed to be. They talked quietly to one another as they moved along, scanning the skies for any sign of aerial Digimon and forcing their way through the dense scrubland around them. Greymon had to manoeuvre around slightly to avoid crushing the small, spindly trees that dotted the place, but he made no complaints.

They stopped overnight once the sun began to set. The mountains were still easily in view behind them and they had not gotten quite as far as Greymon had been hoping since he had been burdened with his mostly sleeping passenger, but he could only hope that things would get better in the morning. As they spent the night around a small fire which Revolmon had lit, Bastemon had seemed almost cute. She had barely noticed the transition from travelling to camping, having awoken just long enough to clamber off Greymon and curl up on the ground before snoozing again.

"How does she do it?" Greymon muttered to Revolmon quietly as he stared at the princess curled into a ball. "How can she possibly sleep so much and so easily?"

"It's her metabolism, I suppose," shrugged Revolmon, twirling one of his guns absent-mindedly. "She doesn't consciously go to sleep all the time – she just nods off. You know, Wisemon once told me that some of the books from the human world which he keeps replicating in the castle library is called Sleeping Beauty. Apparently it's about some princess or other who falls under a spell and sleeps for a hundred years until she's woken up by a handsome prince or some other rubbish."

"How does that even work?" Greymon frowned. "How did the Prince know how to wake her up from the spell? Was he a wizard?"

"No, apparently he kissed her and the spell lifted," Revolmon shrugged. "I dunno. I never read the story. It's never been my thing."

"He kissed a sleeping stranger?" Greymon raised a brow.

"Yeah, I know," Revolmon chuckled. "Quite perverted, isn't it?"

"No kidding," Greymon snorted.

"Anyway, my point is, Bastemon's about the closest thing to being a real-live version of that princess that I've ever seen," the gunslinging Digimon pointed out, holstering the pistol deftly. "It's almost like it was written for her. Sometimes I'm a bit envious. She doesn't seem to have a care in the world."

"Yes, but that's it!" Greymon growled. "That is my point. It's damn annoying. She just doesn't seem to grasp the seriousness of this situation. What does she expect to happen? We've been transported to who-knows-where, where any kind of dangerous or powerful Digimon or any other creature could be lurking and she just naps! Doesn't she have any priorities at all? Does she just think that everything will sort itself out and everything will be fine? Does she just expect us to protect her?"

"You saying you won't?" Revolmon frowned.

"Course I will," Greymon huffed. "What I mean is – does she just expect us to look after her for her and not attempt to pitch in and look after herself?"

"She's a princess," Revolmon shrugged. "She's used to the good life, I suppose. From what I've seen of her, she's always had servants and soldiers to do things for her. I don't think she even knows how to handle doing things on her own. Didn't stop her from completely devouring that Chuchumon though. I don't think I've ever seen anything scarier than her face when she saw that giant mouse. Still, the point is – yes. She's always had other people looking out for her. She expects it. It's natural for her. And she's definitely not a fighter."

Greymon sighed. "Remind me again why she joined Xros Heart at all? Knightmon I understand but why her?"

Revolmon somehow managed to snort, despite the fact he had no visible nose. Or mouth. "I believe it had something to do with her having a crush on Taiki. She wanted to go because he was going. Shoutmon told me she was all over him when they won at the Lake Zone."

Greymon stared at Revolmon for several seconds. "Are you serious?" he asked slowly. "She, an adult Digimon princess, had a crush on a human child probably about half her age?"

Revolmon chuckled. "Messed up, right?"

"No kidding," Greymon sighed. "At least nothing came of it though. Didn't that human girl that also followed Taiki around also have a crush on him?"

"Akari? Yeah, she did, though she'd probably deny it. She got so mad whenever Bastemon tried to cuddle up to him. Perfectly understandable really. At least Mervamon did something sensible and went for a guy who things could actually work out with. I think Bastemon had gotten over her crush by the end of the war, but she still hung around out of loyalty to Taiki and the rest of us by that point. And she's still around even now so… that has to count for something, right?"

"I suppose," Greymon sighed, looking down at the Digimon he could probably kill by stepping on, completely unaware that they were talking about her, or even talking at all. "But I still think that she could try and stay awake a bit more. She'd be more likely to survive if we found ourselves in a fight if she was awake to begin with."

"True that," nodded Revolmon. "Maybe we should try and make her walk tomorrow."

"Good luck with that," Greymon chortled. "Speaking of tomorrow, any ideas where we should go from here."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am getting hungry," Revolmon murmured. "Thirsty too. I know that we need to track down the others but I think our first priority tomorrow will be finding food and water of some description. For you that probably means that you might need to go hunting. I haven't seen any convenient meat trees around since we got here."

"No, neither have I," Greymon shook his head. "What about her?" he turned towards Bastemon. "We'll be lucky to find any giant saucers of milk lying around. Or any convenient Chuchumon."

Revolmon shuddered. "Bastemon can probably hunt for herself if the need arises, but I'll see if I can't find something for her as well. There might be a few morsels around here she can stomach. But I think we need to find water first. There's bound to be a stream around her somewhere, and if there is then we should hopefully run into it eventually."

Greymon nodded. Little was said between them after that, and the dinosaur Digimon stood sentinel over the campsite while Revolmon dozed and Bastemon continued to sleep on, oblivious to everything around her.

When morning came along once again, Revolmon quietly shook Bastemon awake once more. The princess stretched lazily, her two tails flicking and her claws splayed as she smacked her lips. "I'm getting thirsty," she murmured as she rubbed as her eyes with the back of her paw. "Can somebody get me a drink of water?"

"Your Highness, we don't have water," Revolmon pointed out. "We didn't have any on us when we were transported and we haven't yet found any in this strange new place. We need to keep moving and try and find some if we want a drink."

"Oh. Okay," Bastemon sat up, yawning politely into her paw and looking ready to fall asleep again on the spot. "Well, I'm thirsty so let's get going shall we? Greymon, can I climb up on your back again please."

"Can't you walk, Princess?" Greymon grumbled. "You'd be more likely to stay awake if you stayed on your feet, wouldn't you?"

Bastemon pouted. "I can't help it if I fall asleep all the time. It doesn't matter if I'm walking or sitting, I always just go to sleep. Please let me ride again. Your head is so comfy."

Greymon threw a sharp glance at Revolmon to stop him from snickering before he sighed internally and said, "Fine. We're wasting time here."

"Thank you," Bastemon purred and clambered aboard once again in a momentary display of spryness which counteracted her usual appearance. "Mush!" she giggled slightly as she patted on of Greymon's horns.

"Mush?" Greymon growled indignantly, setting off regardless. "What am I – a camel?"

"You don't say 'mush' to camels," Revolmon called up, setting off beside them.

"Whatever," Greymon grumbled.

"Aw, someone's a little grumpy today," Bastemon grinned as she reclined on top of Greymon's head.

"And getting grumpier," Greymon muttered under his breath. He felt quite demeaned at the moment – after all, he was not a pack animal, yet he seemed to be being used as one. Still, he didn't voice anything else as they continued through the scrub. A few bird-like noises issued from the bushes around them, but they paid them no mind.

They probably would have though, if they had noticed that the noises were coming from carefully concealed humans in long green cloaks, peering out at the strange procession with masked faces and keen eyes. There were more of them than there had been at the start – at least five of them now. But they made no move against the three Digimon. They just watched and waited.

For now.

To her credit, Bastemon managed to stay awake longer than she had managed to yesterday this time. She seemed to be enjoying the ride immensely, and was even sitting upright on Greymon's head, each of her twin tails wrapped around Greymon's side horns to help keep her anchored in place.

But that did stop her from yawning about every ten seconds and the sound was beginning to annoy Greymon immensely – it was never the same length twice. He found himself holding his breath and counting how many seconds each yawn lasted and he had to physically stop his eye from twitching.

Why in the Digital World did he have to get lumped in with her?

This feeling increased tenfold when Bastemon started making demands. They weren't terribly difficult to carry out, but Greymon had never had to cater to anybody's needs in this way before and it irked him considerably.

"Greymon, could you slow down a little? I think I'm getting a little motion sickness."

"Greymon, can you go over there please. I think there's a piece of nice looking fruit on that tree."

"Greymon, could we go a bit faster now? My mouth is getting really dry."

"Ooh, a butterfly! Greymon, stop. Let me see if I can catch that butterfly!"

"Greymon, can we stop for a bit. I'd like to take a nap."

Greymon growled a little bit when she said this last one. "Princess, I am going to keep going," he stated a little sharply. "We have more important things to do right now than sleep. We need to find the others, get some food and some water and work out where we are. Sleep can wait."

"No, it can't," Bastemon frowned. "I've always gone to sleep when I want to go to sleep, and I want to go to sleep now. There's a nice shady spot over there that looks nice. Stop and let me get off, will you?"

Greymon was utterly flabbergasted at her complete lack of priorities and her stubborn streak but before he could protest, Bastemon had actually rolled over and slid down his back, falling to the ground on all fours by the base of his tail and wandering over to the large tree which she had been pointing out before.

"We can't stop now," Greymon snarled slightly. "We don't know if this place is safe."

"I'll be safe as long as you protect me," Bastemon smiled. Greymon had to stop his jaw from dropping. Bastemon seemed to be completely unaware of how arrogant she was being. It wasn't as if she was deliberately being snooty like a lot of princes and princesses might have been – some of them tended to go out of their way to be like that. Bastemon wasn't like that. She was friendly and loving and caring, like a good princess should be. But she just seemed to expect everyone to just stop whatever they were doing and cater to her with no questions asked. It seemed like that was just the way that the world worked to her. She just expected things to go her way, as they always had in the past.

Bastemon curled up in the shade and let out her longest yawn yet – it lasted a full ten seconds. Then she smiled sleepily at Greymon and Revolmon, who still hadn't moved from their current position.

"What?" she asked.

This time Revolmon chipped in his opinion and said, "Princess Bastemon, I think that Greymon is right. We should press on."

"And we will, when I've had my catnap," Bastemon smiled pleasantly.

"Yes but… but…" Revolmon waved his arms in a random fashion. "We're just wasting time here. It's like Greymon said – we need to find what we need to survive and…"

"Okay then," she interrupted. "Here's what you can do, if you like. Revolmon, you can go and look around for some food and water for all of us, while Greymon, you can stay here and stand guard for me, right?"

"Split up?" Greymon asked. "That's not such a good idea. It might be difficult to find each other again later if we do that. And there is a better chance of protection if we stay in numbers."

This time Bastemon didn't even seem to hear the protests and she curled up and said, "Off you go. Nighty-night."

And within seconds, she was snoozing.

The dinosaur and the gunslinger stared at the cat-woman for several blank seconds.

"Wow," Revolmon muttered eventually. "I see what you were getting at. She really doesn't seem to grasp that we're in an urgent situation at all, does she?"

"What does she expect to happen?" Greymon snarled. "Does she just expect everything to work out in the end of its own accord? This is utterly ridiculous. We might have been able to go double the distance we've travelled at this point if she was taking this more seriously. And she just expects us to look after her."

"Maybe that's why she doesn't think this is so urgent," Revolmon shrugged. "Maybe she expects everyone else to be searching for her just like how we are searching for them right now."

"And they will be," Greymon agreed. "But it's a lot more complicated than that. Who knows how far away they are?"

"She doesn't," Revolmon shrugged. "I guess she's never had to think much about this sort of thing before."

"Well she has to," Greymon growled. "I'm going to wake her up and get us moving again."

"Whoa, wait!" Revolmon quickly stepped in front of the angry dinosaur. "Let's just go with this for now. She's obviously going to keep falling asleep like this in the future, which means she's obviously more of a hindrance than a help. Maybe if I go out and look for water on my own then I can cover more ground. Besides, I know what I'm doing. You just stay here and keep an eye on her and I'll be back soon, okay?"

Greymon snorted. "Fine," he muttered. "But try and be quick."

Revolmon flicked his hat. "I'm always quick," he said, and he turned and quickly ran off in the direction that they had been going. Greymon watched him go for several moments until the smaller Digimon had vanished into the shrubbery.

Greymon then rumbled slightly to himself and turned back to look at Bastemon, snoozing away without a care in the world. She looked so peaceful, a small smile on her face as she dreamed of whatever it was that cat princesses dreamt about. And, in a way, it was that peaceful look on her face which irked Greymon the most. She should be worried. She should be fretting over her own safety and the safety of the others and whether they would be able to survive and if they could get back to the castle or what might be lurking in the undergrowth waiting to jump out of them. She should be very worried.

But she wasn't.

She was completely relaxed.

No. Priorities. At. All.

Greymon grimaced and turned back to face the surroundings, watching out for anything that might pose a threat to the snoozing Princess. He'd never had to deal with this sort of thing when he ran with Blue Flare. Heck, even Taiki hadn't had to put up with this. Bastemon had been able to snooze as she pleased inside the Xros Loader while the rest of them got on with tasks. But right now, they did not, unfortunately, have a Xros Loader. So Bastemon was going to have to stay on the outside and the others were going to have to try and deal with this.

Greymon wondered how long it would take before he went insane.

Revolmon moved off into the scrublands, brushing the shrubbery aside with his spindly arms and moving his enormous chest revolver carefully around the foliage so as not to snag the barrel on anything. He was beginning to feel the effects of thirst quite strongly and knew that while he could survive without it a while longer yet, he would need to find something sooner or later.

If only it would rain. That would make things easier. He could collect the stuff in his hat if the worst came to the worst. And it had to rain at places like this sometimes, didn't it? Otherwise there wouldn't be all these trees all over the place. But, there wasn't anything in the sky above, although there did seem to be some dark, foreboding storm clouds in the east over the peaks of the dark mountains.

But for some reason, Revolmon found himself hoping that those storm clouds didn't get any closer. And he couldn't quite figure out why. But there was definitely something… off… about them. Something unsettling. It disturbed him.

He pressed on regardless, wondering as he did so if he had made the right call to leave Greymon and Bastemon alone together. Bastemon might be oblivious to how much her lack of seriousness and general demanding attitude was grating on Greymon's nerves, but Revolmon could see it quite clearly. The dinosaur was not experienced at this kind of thing. Most of the problems he had to deal with involved attacking something.

Revolmon himself was a lot more patient. That came with his field. You had to be very patient when you were a treasure hunter. Sometimes it might take you months or even up to year, to find a particularly treasure that you were looking for. The whole point of treasure was that it was supposed to be concealed well after all. And Revolmon had had a lot of experience at the hardships and struggle of being a treasure hunter. It had been his whole life before Xros Heart.

But even he had to admit that Bastemon was quite taxing, even if she didn't intend to be or know that she was. Greymon did have a couple of valid points about her, but she genuinely didn't know any better. She had never experienced anything but being a Princess, even while a member of Xros Heart. And getting lost in the woods was no place for a spoiled princess like herself. Shoutmon was different as a King – he knew what he was doing. Bastemon didn't. She'd never lived enough of the rough lifestyle.

But Revolmon put that out of his mind for now. He had to focus on finding food and water. Water was the most important. Everything else could wait until afterwards, but water was something that they couldn't do without. All of them needed to quench their thirst, even if they were made out of data.

Fortunately, while water might not be a treasure in the traditional sense of the word, Revolmon knew what to look for when it came to finding water. He had needed to himself in the past, but of course he had always gone to the strange new place by choice back then, as opposed to this time where he had been dumped here.

Once he found a slope, he began to head downhill. Water was far more likely to be at the bottom of any dips in the ground considering it would always flow downwards, so that was his best bet. Every now and then he would stop and listen intently to the wind – something which had been impossible to do when he had been walking next to the heavy footfalls of Greymon. He was listening out for the sound of trickling water, which could actually travel quite far under the right circumstances.

When he heard nothing, he moved on once again. Every now and then he would alternate between checking the vegetation and monitoring the ground in front of him for something which he could not yet see. He muttered quietly to himself, resolving to stay away from the others for no longer than a couple of hours, and if nothing turned up after half an hour away from them in the direction he was going, he would attempt another way.

After a time, when he had still not found what he was looking for, he froze. He had thought, just for a moment, that he had heard some kind of snapping noise in the distance. Faint, but nonetheless unmistakably there. His hands instinctively flew to his sides and drew his pistols out from thin air, priming his central gun internally at the same time as he hunkered down slightly and began to scan the horizon.

He couldn't see too far in any direction, except up, where he could see the sky and the distant mountain peaks, but other than that mostly all that he could see was trees. And most of what he could hear was silence. Quite a lot of silence actually, but there seemed to be nothing too out of the ordinary. The birds were still singing – in fact, he could hear some calls not too far away from him – and the insects were still chirping.

Nothing really amiss.

Still, it couldn't hurt to be careful and he went on, proceeding with caution.

Eventually, after he had changed trajectory to head off around ninety degrees from the direction which he had been going in, he finally discovered something interesting. The land was surprisingly empty of creatures – he hadn't seen a single Digimon since he'd got here, but he did eventually find some tracks that looked like they had come from some hooves. Small hooves – like those of a Centarumon except not as big. This was usually a good sign and he knew it. Where there were locals, there would more than likely be water.

He still couldn't say for sure if there was water nearby, but he began to follow the hoof tracks, hoping that they would lead him to something worthwhile. Now that he had found what he was looking for on the ground, he began to periodically stop and check the trees a little more. He carefully examined the leaves every now and then, checking their succulence and colour.

And… yes, it certainly seemed like he was getting warmer. He knew that trees which were closer to water were naturally going to be more lush, both from increased run-off from rain-water and from a greater density of water soaked into the ground. And it seemed that whatever footprints he had been following had been taking him closer to a prospective goal.

Continuing to check the trees every now and then, he also paused to listen every time he stopped. And… there! Was it? Yes, that sounded like the trickling of a stream. He dashed off in the direction of the noise for about a hundred yards or so and then stopped to listen again. And yes, there it was again. Louder this time. Definitely the sound of water. He had found it!

He pressed on, practically leaping over rocks and springing around bushes, his central gun making things a bit awkward but otherwise moving fast. And then, finally, he found it.

It was quite a small stream, running between two rocky banks through the trees. It was so narrow that it might make drinking from it a little bit awkward, especially for somebody like Greymon who would have to bend over and literally plant his nose into the water. But that wasn't a problem. All he had to do was follow its course and he was pretty sure that it would widen out. But, just to be sure, he began to hurry along in the direction of the trickling, keeping pace with the water itself as he ran.

He still hadn't really seen anything that could be used as food, but he put that out of his mind for now. Water was more important.

But what Revolmon eventually found surprised him. While the stream did broaden out quite a bit, he eventually found that it went over a clifftop and tumbled down several dozen metres towards the base, where a large ovular basin filled with the clear liquid, churning round and round beneath the falling waters, only flowing out of the pool through a narrow rocky gap and out to form a river beyond it.

"Well," Revolmon nodded, sounding pleased with himself. "Found the water. I guess that means that I can check one thing off the list of things that the Princess needs doing. Hmm – I should probably find a way of getting down the cliff though. Jumping off certainly isn't going to do anybody any favours.

And then the small gunslinging Digimon picked a direction and headed off, but it didn't take long before something caught his attention and he stopped. It was another footprint, this one larger and more distinct than the tracks which he had been following before. Large and with a pointed end, it was definitely a footprint of some kind of boot.

Meaning that there was some kind of intelligent life nearby after all.

And it looked fresh too.

Not far from the site where Revolmon was currently searching for a way down the cliff, Captain Faramir – Prince of Ithilien and brother of Boromir – grimly pulled another arrow out of the body of one of the many dead orcs in front of him. Things were getting worse by the day and he knew it. Looking up, he could see more of his men, the green-clad Rangers, rifling amongst the corpses and salvaging what ammunition they could re-use. Every arrow was becoming precious these days, and so every arrow possible was re-taken from every battlefield.

This orc patrol had been relatively small in comparison to some of the others. Perhaps it had been an attempt at a stealth incursion to try and get past the Rangers themselves. Faramir, as the leader of those Ithilien Rangers, was exceptionally proud of his men. Next to the forces of Mordor their numbers were meagre, but they were exceptionally good at what they did, and if the circumstances were right, they were more than capable of taking out patrols several times the number of their own forces.

The Mordor Orcs feared them greatly, and they were right to. The Rangers were a force to be reckoned with out in the woods and scrublands where they were utilised. Each of them was descended from the people who had lived in Ithilien before it had been taken by the forces of Mordor many years ago, and they knew the terrain like they knew their own weapons.

They were masters of stealth, and experts at guerrilla warfare – their camouflaging cloaks and light feet allowing them to go unheard and unseen by nigh anybody who walked through their woods. They had learned how to use berries and other woodland substances to mask their scent, which was of particular benefit against the orcs. Nobody ever saw them coming and when they attacked, nobody could ever tell where the attacks were coming from. They were like hidden death, their arrows flying and downing columns of the enemy before they even knew there was a threat.

They were able to take out small armies by catching them off guard with only a few hundred of their own, or even less, in this manner.

Faramir himself was arguably the single best Ranger in all of the land. As the youngest Son of the Steward of Gondor, he had decided to invest more in the practice of being a Ranger than a full-blown warrior as his brother had been, hoping that the two of them could combine their various strengths to keep Gondor safe from both angles. Now, Boromir was gone, off up to Rivendell on his quest to discover the meaning behind the dreams that both he and Faramir had had several months prior, and Faramir was finding himself more and more put into Boromir's positions. He would be the first to admit that he was far less suited to that kind of thing than out here in the woods where he knew exactly what he was doing.

He wrinkled his nose at the foul smell of the orcs before him as he plucked out two more arrows and restored them to his quiver. This bunch might have been rather small, but any patrol of orcs into his lands could not be tolerated, and unfortunately for this lot they had made the unknowable mistake of getting too close to the Rangers' secret hideout – the Forbidden Pool, as they called it. And now they had all paid the price for it, while the Rangers had lost nobody.

It had been a good mission, and, like with every arrow, every Ranger was going to be needed nowadays.

Because Faramir was noticing more and more that the numbers of Mordor forces in his lands were growing, despite their best efforts.

And it wasn't just orcs that he was referring to either. While the scout patrols were most often orcs, there were increasing reports of columns of Men from foreign lands marching through in the direction of the Black Gates of Mordor. Faramir had no doubt that they had ill intentions, or at least the ones in command did. Killing other Men pained Faramir – he had no way of knowing which of them were truly evil, and which of them were following out of blind loyalty to their leaders or even fear of the consequences if they disobeyed.

And yet, it seemed that they had little choice now. The most common forces now heading through Ithilien belonged to the Haradrim – men from the enormous countries of Near and Far Harad to the South. Also known as Southrons for that very reason, the Haradrim had long had an uneasy past with Gondor as it was, with many attempts in the past to invade and spread their own territories.

But Faramir could not remember a time where they had come in such numbers. Every day another column seemed to come north, and they brought something with them far more terrifying than any force of Men – their Mûmakil. Dealing with Mûmakil was very different than dealing with an army. The enormous creatures towered far taller than any other creature that Faramir had ever seen. A Man would be lucky to be very much taller than its ankle, and their enormous trunks and giant sweeping tusks made their formidable alone, and adding in the sheer strength, enormous frame, tough skin and tendency to go on a rampage, they were often seen as almost indestructible.

And to top it off, the Haradrim had not only somehow found a way to tame the giant creatures, after a fashion, they had also constructed massive war-towers which each Mûmak carried on its back, allowing dozens of archers to rain arrows down on anything that was beyond the reach of the Mûmak itself.

Faramir had been going to greater and greater lengths recently to try and put a stop to the Mûmakil. Arrows alone did little to them, so he had been attempting to organise attempts to build pitfalls for them. It was a lot of effort for the nimble and lean Rangers, as the holes did require a degree of architectural construction, to ensure that they were both large enough to allow a Mûmak to fall in completely, and covered enough to both hide the pitfall from view and ensure that whatever was covering it was strong enough to allow humans to walk across it, for if any Haradrim fell into the trap first, those steering the Mûmakil would become wise to it and the trap's function would have been lost.

Pressure was building on Faramir day in and day out now. He hoped that Boromir would return soon. Indeed, there had been reports that the well-known Horn of Gondor had been heard up to the North. He hoped that Boromir was okay, but of course he currently had no way of knowing.

He put it from his mind. Stressing about these things was not going to do him any good. He focused on the matter at hand. He had already received orders from his father that he was to pull out of Ithilien and help to reinforce Osgiliath. Faramir had reluctantly agreed, though he had been against the idea from the start. The Rangers were not half as useful in a city as they were out in the wild. No matter how skilled they were, their numbers were far too small to help deal with full-frontal assaults.

Nevertheless, Faramir had a job to do, and he would carry it out to the best of his ability in his brother's stead. Hopefully, the situation as Osgiliath wouldn't last long, and he would be able to return to the wild where he felt he was actually of use.

Shouldering his bow once again, Faramir turned when he heard the voice of Madril, his trusted second-in-command, hailing him from a distance. Madril had not taken part in this particular raid, staying behind to co-ordinate the scouting teams, but now Faramir could see him hurrying towards them, a look that Faramir could not quite discern on his face.

"Madril," Faramir nodded, as he approached with a couple of other Rangers flanking him. "What is it? Has there been any further word from my father?"

"None," Madril said. "Our orders still stand, but I'm afraid, Captain Faramir, that we may have to delay slightly before carrying them out. Some of our scouts have been giving some disturbing reports, and I felt it best to inform you immediately."

"What reports?" Faramir frowned. "Yet another enemy convoy?"

"We… are not quite sure," Madril confessed with a grimace. "The reports are… most strange. They do not speak of an army, but rather a few odd creatures that have not been seen before. Something new, and not far from our current position. The descriptions are… odd at best, but the main one consists of some creature which 'looks like a dragon, but isn't.'"

Faramir frowned, but felt worry building inside him nonetheless. There had not been a dragon in Gondor since long before his time, but even something that looked like a dragon was more than likely to be dangerous. "Any other description than that?"

Madril nodded to one of the Rangers he had brought with him, and that Ranger stepped forward. "I saw it myself, Captain Faramir. It did look a little bit like a dragon but there were many things different about it. It wasn't as big, for one – though it was still about four times taller than an average Man. It didn't have any wings either and it walked on two legs rather than four. It's arms were quite small but its head and teeth were very large, sir. It was dark blue with orange stripes on its back and tail and… well… it had three horns. Two of them stuck out to the side and one came out of the top of its nose, but the one on its nose was metal – like a blade of some kind. And it had another smaller blade on the end of its tail. It was like nothing I've ever seen before, and it looked formidable."

Faramir's frown remained in place, but he was secretly worried. He couldn't let that worry show, but at the rather detailed description he couldn't help but believe his Ranger was telling the truth. Had Sauron come up with some brand new terror to plague them? It would not be the first time he had done so if that was the case.

"Movements?" Faramir asked. "How long ago was it spotted?"

"Last evening, Captain," the Ranger replied. "I was on the long-distance patrol to Emyn Arnen and we had spread out when one of our number first spotted it. We monitored its progress for a while before we determined that it was definitely heading north-west."

"Into Gondor," Faramir observed with a grimace.

"Yes, sir," nodded the Ranger. "My guess is that if it keeps going the way it is, it might end up at Cair Andros. But… that's not the whole news, Captain. It's not alone. It appears to have two companions."

"There are three of these large lizard-creatures?" Faramir asked in alarm.

"No, Captain," the Ranger replied. "Just the one. The other two it travels with are much smaller and not lizard-like at all. They too are things I've never seen before. One of them appears to be… well… it might sound a little silly, Captain."

"Go on," Faramir urged.

"It was like a cat," the Ranger went on hesitantly. "But again, not a cat. It was the shape and size of a woman, but it definitely had cat-like features like long claws, the large ears, thin fur and a tail. Except that it also had another tail as well. And it was actually riding on the dragon-creature like a steed. And the third creature… I can't even begin to describe it properly. It was like a very short man… or a Dwarf perhaps. But it was wearing a big hat so we couldn't see its face and… well… it was like it had some giant metal pole sticking out of its front. It looked ridiculous."

Faramir couldn't help but give the Ranger an odd look for a few moments, before the Ranger looked embarrassed and said, "It's true sir. That is what it looked like."

"I see," Faramir nodded. "Anything else to report?"

"Not really, sir," the Ranger shook his head. "We called in several other Ranger units to keep an eye on it while we reported back."

"Our last report stated that they were still heading in the same direction," Madril agreed. "And all the reports confirm the same appearance. I do not believe this is some trick, sire. I believe it to be genuine."

"Then we must decide what to do about it immediately," Faramir deduced. "How far is it from here now?"

"Not far," Madril replied gravely. "Apparently the big creature and the cat woman have stopped while the… pole-Dwarf… has set out on its own. We cannot get close enough to hear what they are saying, but reports indicate that all three of them are worthy of speech. They are perhaps a mile or two out from the Forbidden Pool as we speak."

"Then we must intercept them," Faramir said immediately, signalling to his Rangers to fall in and stepping past Madril and the other Rangers to head in the direction of the Pool, taking charge of the situation as the others fell in step behind him. "I do not know what their purpose is, but if that large creature is indeed a dragon, or perhaps a distant unknown relative of the dragon race, then it's most likely that its intentions are not friendly. Dragons have long been a race of Darkness and while the few remaining Dragons of Middle Earth might be limited to only unknown regions, I cannot risk this one becoming a threat."

"So, we are to attempt to attack it?" Madril asked. "If it is as tough as a regular Dragon I fear that our arrows may do little to it. Perhaps we could dig a trap for it?"

"There is not the time," Faramir grimaced. "And we do not yet know if it is even a threat. We have no idea what we're up against, and I don't like that. You say that one of the three creatures has gone off on its own?"

"Yes," Madril nodded. "Approximately twenty minutes ago according to our sources."

"Then we must make it a priority to find and capture that single creature," Faramir ordered. "If we can interrogate it, we may learn more about this situation."

"But what of the dragon?" Madril asked, deciding to just call it a dragon rather than a dragon-creature or dragon-thing.

"How strong would you estimate it is?" Faramir asked.

"Strong, sire," the other Ranger nodded. "You can see its muscles quite clearly, and if it is anything like the dragons of old then it may possess flame-breathing ability. Our cover will be useless against it if it just burns it away and us with it."

"Establish a series of relays," Faramir commanded. "A line of Rangers from the creature to the Pool. I want to know its movements at all times. We may be able to use that to set up an ambush for it if it passes through an ideal location. But if you say that this… cat-woman… is its rider then perhaps she is the key to controlling it. Perhaps we will not need to take down the creature itself. And if battle is joined then we can pick our places carefully and, if nothing else, drive it away from the Pool and away from Gondorian settlements."

"Very well, sire," Madril nodded. "I shall spread the word…"

"Captain!" cried a voice from up ahead, as another Ranger hurried from the foliage ahead. "We've been watching the Dwarf with the metal pole and it has discovered the Forbidden Pool. It is there now, attempting to discover a way down the cliff and make it to the water."

Faramir cursed. "Then perhaps it knows of our base?"

"I don't know, sire," the Ranger replied. "It may just be after the water. It isn't really trying to be stealthy, though it is wary of its surroundings. We withdrew all our forces inside the caves behind the waterfall except for those keeping an eye on it. I do not believe it is aware that it is being followed."

"Is it armed?" asked Faramir.

"Unknown, sire," the Ranger sighed. "If it does have weapons then we have not seen them. It certainly has no bow or blade, but we have occasionally witnessed it holding two small blunted metal objects which resemble smaller versions of the pole sticking out its front. They don't look like very effective hand to hand combat weapons but we cannot discern anything else they might be for."

"Then this could be a stroke of good fortune," Faramir replied. "Have archers stationed around all of the ledges around the pool, but keep them hidden until I give the word. Everyone else," he turned to the rest of the group behind him. "Spread out. Keep each other in sight, but stay low. We must head towards the Pool from all possible angles. Steel yourselves and await my signal, but have an arrow ready. We want to take it alive, but if it resists then try to injure rather than kill it. I have some questions I would ask of it."

The Rangers nodded wordlessly, pulling up their black masks and green hoods so the only visible parts of their faces were their eyes and swiftly disappearing into the woods to efficiently carry out their tasks. Faramir nodded to Madril and a couple of other Rangers, indicating that they should stay close as he drew his sword rather than his bow and moved swiftly and near silently through the undergrowth in the direction of the pool, while the one who had delivered the news hurried back faster to give the word to the Rangers inside.

One of the biggest problems of being a stealth fighter was communication, which meant that once the orders were given it was difficult to co-ordinate anything beyond simple signals. But Faramir trusted his platoon to carry out their tasks efficiently on their own. That was what made them the best.

But right now they had a meeting to attend.

Revolmon hopped off the last remnants of the hill that he had found, turning to glance back up at it judgmentally. It was still relatively steep, and Greymon might have a bit of trouble navigating his large frame down it, but it would probably have to do. It was the shallowest part of cliff that he had come across so far, and it looked like it would probably carry on being steep for a while in either direction.

In any case at least he could now quench his own thirst. And when he did, he would then be able to head back. He'd have to retrace his steps, since he didn't know the exact location where Greymon and Bastemon were from here, but that was fine. He'd let plenty of trail for him to follow his own way.

Pleased with his success, Revolmon headed off to the pool he had found before. It didn't take him long to reach it. He could hear more of those strange bird-calls around this area, but that wasn't surprising. Birds needed to drink too after all.

Upon reaching the water, he hunched over a rock that made up part of the bank and reached, down, scooping up a handful of water and passing it underneath his neckerchief to his small and usually hidden mouth. It was cool and refreshing, much like the waters of the lake around the castle back home, and Revolmon could already feel himself being slightly re-energised.

The waterfall crashing over the top of the rise provided a constant backdrop of gushing liquid and crashing noise and Revolmon, ever the watchful, looked up every now and then to make sure that there was nobody around to try and threaten him when his guard was down. When he saw nothing, he went back to drinking again.

Unfortunately, Revolmon's judgement wasn't quite as accurate as he had thought it to be. Eyes were watching him now from all around, peering through the smallest of gaps in the foliage from over slight rises and the owners of those eyes were almost completely out of sight, and what parts of them were visible were camouflaged by their attire. Slowly, stealthily, placing each foot with the utmost care, the Rangers of Ithilien inched their way closer to the intruder, arrows nocked and bowstrings tight.

The waterfall of their pool was aiding them now. The noise is made meant they could move a bit more freely than normal, but they still were careful not to snap twigs or make any other untoward noise. They weren't taking chances. None of them ever did if they could help it.

It was at this point, while Revolmon was drinking, that Faramir arrived and took up position behind a tree, with Madril behind another trunk. Carefully, Faramir twisted around to peer through a gap in the plant-life and stare at Revolmon.

He had to admit he was more than a little shocked. A Dwarf with a pole sticking out of him didn't really describe this guy. The pole looked like it was a part of his very body. His boots, his hat, his scarf… everything about him seemed strange and foreign, and years of experience had long since taught Faramir to be wary of what didn't look familiar. And this was anything but familiar.

Still, now was the chance they had been waiting for, when it was otherwise occupied. He signalled with a swift, decisive hand-gesture to Madril, who nodded and passed on the message. Slowly, the Rangers emerged from cover and out into the open, while Revolmon's back was to them and inched forwards, pulling their bowstrings taut and focusing their arrows on the stranger. Faramir lifted his sword and followed, holding it loosely by his side.

Revolmon, oblivious, continued to drink. But it was at this point that instinct told him that something was up. He didn't hear anything new but the moment his consciousness prickled him he was up and whirled around, pulling his pistols into existence from his waist and raising them with a snap of his arms, safety off and weapons primed, ready to shoot at the bat of an eyelid.

What he saw took him off guard and he almost stumbled backwards into the pool. There were at least thirty fully-grown adult humans standing all around him, cutting off his escape and with arrows pointed at him. He silently cursed himself. How had he not noticed them? How had they managed to get so close to him and in such numbers?

He grimly took in their camouflage. Clearly they were good. They could probably give the elite Monitamon a run for their money.

Damn, he thought to himself. Now what?

"I assume that there is a reason for your trespassing on this land?" a voice called out over the noise of the waterfall. Revolmon's eyes were taken straight to Faramir as he emerged from his ranks, a white tree design plastered on the front of his jerkin, bow across his shoulder and sword in his hand. Revolmon was under no illusion that this was the leader of the group.

Faramir stared at the Digimon, not allowing himself to become enthralled at his sheer weirdness. He kept his face steady and said, "Although, in case it's unclear, if you attempt to fight us, my men are more than capable of insuring that you do not live to see your next sunrise." He nodded upwards towards the cliffs. Revolmon blinked and turned slightly to look out of the corner of his eye, balking when he saw that there were at least another thirty archers stationed at various hidden entrances in the cliff-face or on the top of the cliff itself, also with arrows pointed directly at him.

"You are surrounded," Faramir stated needlessly. "Your escape routes have been cut off. I would suggest you lower your weapons, if those are indeed weapons, and do not attempt to resist us." He lifted his sword and pointed it at the gunslinger. "You are on our land after all. Now, surrender. Or…"

He dropped his sword.

A split second later, ten arrows thudded into the ground right next to Revolmon's boots. Revolmon scowled, but he knew that he was beaten. He was a strong Digimon in his own way, although there were many far stronger than himself. And if he needed to, he was pretty sure that he would be able to take out ten to fifteen of those archers with rapid shots of his three guns before the others even had time to act, but that wasn't going to do him any favours against such numbers from all angles. They would cut him down before he got two feet.

Revolmon also felt a slight anger at himself for this. He had faced down an army of SkullScorpiomon and taken on a group of MetalTyrannomon, all much larger than himself, so why was it always the humans that managed to trap him like this? First Yuu with his surprise attack and now this.

But still, Revolmon knew when to pick his fights and now was not that time. Besides, these guys were probably not evil. He would need to be sure before he tried anything. And so, reluctantly, he dropped his two hand pistols to the ground and raised his hands. Of course, he could not drop the gun that comprised his torso, but perhaps he could use that to his advantage later on.

"Wise move," Faramir nodded. He then signalled with a nod of his head and several Rangers moved in from either side of Revolmon. Obviously they were wary of being in front of him, and by coming from the side, that meant he couldn't gun them all down at once. Clever. They knew what they were doing, even if they didn't know what he was.

One of the Rangers collected the pistols and stashed them in a cloak, while the others seized his arms and pinned them, forcing Revolmon to his knees. Revolmon resisted the urge to growl, but managed to say, "Hoi! Show some courtesy would you? I am surrendering here."

The Rangers eyes momentarily flashed with surprise, but quickly masked it and forced him down further, until the barrel of his chest gun was pointing into the ground. Revolmon could aim it up again no problem – he was stronger than he looked – but he didn't want to give a wrong impression if these were good guys.

Faramir then stepped closer and said, "I am Faramir, son of Denethor and Prince of Ithilien. Since you are in Ithilien yourself, that means that you are under my jurisdiction. Now tell me, who are you? And where do you come from? And for that matter, what are you? You are neither Dwarf nor Orc – that I can see."

Revolmon looked up from under the brim of his hat and met Faramir's human eyes with his own ovular yellow ones. "You're good," he admitted. "There's not many people who could all sneak up on me like that at the same time."

"That is not an answer to any of my questions," Faramir pointed out.

"No, mighty Prince, I suppose it isn't," Revolmon chuckled drolly. "Well, anyway, since you asked me so nicely and all, I'm Revolmon. And I am a Digimon."

Greymon snorted through his nostrils for what felt like the fiftieth time. He knew that it wasn't fair to Bastemon, but for some irrational reason even the sound of her breathing was beginning to annoy him. Maybe it was because it was a reminder of the fact that she wasn't taking things seriously and was just napping.

There was some part of him that knew full well that getting irritated at her was not going to help in any way whatsoever.

But it was being drowned out by the rest of him, which was mentally complaining that he had to look after someone so… namby-pamby.

He was also wondering what had happened to Revolmon. He had been gone for about an hour and half at this point, and while he had said that he probably wouldn't be gone much for more than two hours, Greymon had thought that he would be quicker than that. Had he got lost? Had he been injured by something? He had thought that splitting up was a bad idea and now he could see why. He had no way of knowing what had happened.

On the plus side, he had not heard any gunshots, which meant that it was likely Revolmon had not been attacked by something.

Be that as it may, all he could do for the moment was to just stay here and listen to the sound of Bastemon's breathing.

Which lead him back to being annoyed.

Why couldn't Knightmon have fallen with them here? Or the PawnChessmon? Or somebody who actually knew what to do with a simple-minded airheaded princess? Anybody but him would be better qualified for this. Except perhaps Cyberdramon. Heck, even MailBirdramon would have been more suited to keeping an eye on her. He had the patience of a tree, which is to say, unending. Plus he could fly and carry her easily even if she wanted to fall asleep on him.

But none of them were here and he was. So now, he just had to stay here and cope with it.

Not easy. For him at least.

Behind him, he heard Bastemon yawn and stretch, and he turned his head slightly to see her flexing her claws using one of her tails to rub her eyes. "Morning again, Greymon," she smiled. "How are you?"

Greymon grunted noncommittally and turned back.

"How long was I asleep?" Bastemon asked, leaning against the tree.

"About one and a half hours," Greymon replied, judging by the position of the Sun.

"That was a good nap," Bastemon smiled. "Considering I was lying on bare earth. Where's Revolmon?"

"He's not back yet," Greymon rumbled lowly, without looking at her. "Haven't heard anything from him since you nodded off."

"Really?" Bastemon pouted. "What's taking him so long? I'm getting thirsty here. And hungry too. It feels like it's been so long since we had that feast already, and I didn't get to eat much there because I kept nodding off."

"Perhaps he is having difficulty," Greymon responded, feeling his tail sweeping about slightly, which was never a good sign. It meant his temper was rising.

"He's supposed to be a treasure hunter," Bastemon complained slightly. "Isn't he supposed to be good at this sort of thing? Finding things, I mean?"

"This is a different land," Greymon growled. "His skills might not be so useful here."

"Maybe," Bastemon yawned again. "Well then, maybe I should go back to sleep for a bit."

Greymon's eye twitched. "You should try and stay awake more. What if there was an attack?"

"Then I've got my big, strong guardian to look after me," Bastemon tittered. "You can protect me from anything that comes to get me."

Greymon's eyes narrowed. For some reason, this was the final straw. Bastemon's careless assumption that he would do everything for her, despite being slightly justified since they were supposed to be team-mates, as well as the fact that she had asked Revolmon to go off to find stuff for her thus leading them to this situation in the first place, drove Greymon over the edge.

Releasing a roar that shook the trees, Greymon whirled around and pulverised a boulder with a stamp of his foot as he swung his head and bared teeth in Bastemon's direction. The princess, completely taken off guard by this, squealed and backed up against the trunk; Greymon's blood-red eyes glaring into her amber ones.

"Oh, will I?" Greymon snarled at her. "You expect me to just look after you, do you? You expect Revolmon to just run off and do your bidding, do you? You think that you can just fall asleep and everything will turn out alright because we'll look after you, do you?"

"Greymon," Bastemon was suddenly whimpering. "What… what are you…?"

"I've got some information for you, Princess," Greymon used the word snidely. "You might royalty, and you might have had everything you've ever needed or wanted handed to you on a platter in the past, but I'm not one of your staff. We are supposed to be a team. The Xros Heart United Army, working together to achieve victory. But you don't do that, do you? You just lie back and expect everything to go your way, while you can just lounge around and put no effort into anything. I can barely remember a time where you were useful during the fight against the Bagra Army. You might not be pompous and arrogant, but you're definitely a complete airhead!"

Bastemon's eyes widened and she pressed her back further against the tree. And Greymon wasn't done yet.

"Are you completely incapable of doing anything for yourself? Or, for that matter, doing something for other people? And you know what the worst of it is? It's that you don't even realise that you're doing it. You are one of the most selfish people I know, expecting everybody to go about your orders on a whim, and yet you don't even know you're being selfish. You greet everybody with smiles, but you've got so many airs and graces that it's a wonder you don't float away. Can't you just take a look at this situation? We're lost in a strange place with no comrades besides ourselves, no way of knowing where the others are and no knowledge of what's out there. We've all got to work together to get out of this. Not just me and Revolmon doing things for you. You too, Princess."

Bastemon had never heard Greymon go on a tirade like this before and she could feel her eyes beginning to water as tears welled up within them. Nobody had ever shouted at her like this, and Greymon's words were really hitting her hard. He was landing verbal blow after blow on her mind, so much so that she wanted to just curl up into a ball and cry.

Greymon snorted contemptuously and reared back up again. In a gentler tone, for him, he said, "Now, since we are team-mates, I am going to look out for you like you oh-so-readily expect me to. But you should consider playing your own part in this sometime soon." And he turned around and deliberately stared in the other direction.

Now that he'd finished shouting, Greymon felt a little guilty, which was another new sensation for him. There had been very little in his past that he'd had to feel guilty for. But this time he had made Bastemon cry, and there was some part of him which was satisfied with that, which prompted the rest of him to feel guilty. But those words, however unkind, had needed to be said. Bastemon needed to get some sense into her head and fast.

He could hear her whimpering now, but he did nothing to apologise. He'd let her mull over what he said before he did that.

And Bastemon was indeed mulling. She had turned around to place her arm against the trunk and then press her face into it so she could quietly sob against it. Was that really what Greymon thought of her? She'd always assumed that they got on well, even if they weren't particularly close. And ever since this situation began, she'd thought that things had been going well, if a little slowly. Now she found out that she had been doing nothing but getting on Greymon's nerves.

That hurt her.

Deeply.

Because now she was questioning what everybody else in the Xros Heart United Army thought about her. What did King Shoutmon and his close friends think of her? What did the other members of Blue Flare think of her? What did Knightmon and the other members of her Royal Guard think of her? Did they think along similar lines? Did they think that she was just a spoiled Princess who always got her way?

And in, was she?

Was she really that pampered and selfish? Greymon was right, she hadn't really realised what she was doing, but now that she said it she could see quite clearly that he was right. She had been doing exactly what he had said she had been doing, ordering them around like servants, even if she had been doing it in a friendly manner.

The silence stretched awkwardly on as they waited for Revolmon's return. And Bastemon had never felt more miserable in her life.

Eventually, Greymon broke that silence and said, "Revolmon has been gone too long, Princess. Climb aboard and I'll attempt to follow his scent."

Bastemon mumbled an incoherent reply as she pulled herself away from the tree. Still sobbing quietly to herself, she clambered back up Greymon's side, far less nimbly than before, until she was sitting astride his shoulders, trying to stop herself from crying and failing. Sleep was one of the last things on her mind right now.

Wordlessly, the two of them made their way off in the direction that Revolmon had taken.

And there you have it. That's what I have problems writing – fallings out. People may know this from the fact that my characters rarely ever fall out with one another once they've made friends, but I felt that it was about time that somebody did once again. And that's why this chapter was so hard. I wanted Greymon to fly off the handle at Bastemon, but I didn't want it to be for completely unjustifiable reasons. Even now, I think I made him a little bit harsh at her, but Bastemon has a key role to play in the future, and this is part of what sets it off.

Anyway, thank you everybody, and see you soon. Hopefully in two to three days with an update for QOTG.

Next time…

Frodo and Sam proceed through Emyn Muil, just as hopelessly lost as before. They know now that Gollum is definitely on their tails, but they are still unaware of the three red TV-headed creatures which are also spying on them from above and following them. But Gollum is prepared to try a second attempt at obtaining his precious. How will things play out?

Coming up:- Chapter 15 : The Taming of Sméagol