Webber's POV

It was hard going. Even though the death of the Dragonfly made much of the summer's heat disappear, we were still dizzy and weak from the battle, and there was still the fact that Wilson had payed with his life.

We expected to feel sorrow, even pure grief, but instead, all other emotions ebbed away as our mind became numb with the terrible realization that Wilson was dead and our vision came true. Eventually, we started to become so slow that WX even let us lean on his shoulder.

He was hardly recognizable now. He was dented and scratched in many places, even a few places metal had been torn away to reveal the many wires that made him run. Not only that, but he was nearly completely painted red by the Dragonfly's blood and even some of our own.

Camp was nearby and as soon as we stepped into the clearing we collapsed. Like always, Chester seemed oblivious, but Popsicle was waking from his uncomfortable sleep by the smell of blood.

He looked at both of us, then limped quickly over to us and starting licking us vigorously, trying to rouse us. We weakly raised our hand to pet the hound to reassure him, and he pressed closely up against us. To our relief he seemed cooler and a bit stronger than before.

We must have lost consciousness, because when we opened our eyes again it was nighttime. The fire was up and Popsicle was deep in sleep beside us. The strangest thing was that WX was gazing sympathetically at us. He smiled when he saw us wake. "FEEL BETTER?" he asked, no trace of his usual arrogance.

"A little," I murmured. Pain still throbbed through our body, though it wasn't piercing and the blood on our arm and cheek was dark and dried.

"YOU LOOK BETTER," he commented. He looked a little more like himself also, with much of the dents pounded out and the patches without metal covered. He was still painted red, however, and the look he gave us was completely foreign.

"Same with you," I told him. "Though you're still red."

He sighed. "I KNOW, BUT I CAN'T REALLY GET IT OFF..."

Struggling to stand, we limped over to him and fell beside the cold fire. "It's so strange," I murmured. "We teased him for being so boring and rambling on, and yet, it's so quiet without him."

"I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL."

We sat in silence for a few moments when something caught our eye. Beside the robot was a small black book. "Wilson's book?" I asked him. "How did you...?"

"IT WAS STILL HERE," he answered without looking at us. "HE MUST'VE LEFT IT BEHIND."

We shook our head. "No, he never would've gone anywhere without it." Reaching over, we grabbed it and brought it closer to us. We opened it slightly to the first page. It was an information page we'd seen many times before. We turned the pages until we got to the back were the pages that had the people brought to the world.

The first one was Wilson's, and the breath caught in out throat. "WX... look at this..." I rasped. His picture was marked with a large, red "M", like many of the people in there.

His 'eyes' widened, and he turned to stare, gaping, at us. "BUT... THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE..."

"So does that mean the "M" stands for people that have... failed?"

"IT... IT HAS TO..."

We closed our eyes and snapped the book closed, taking a deep breath. "No... that's not right. It was probably there the whole time and we just didn't notice."

"YOU'D THINK ONE OF US WOULD NOTICE IF WILSON HAD AN "M" OVER HIM WHILE WE DON'T."

"So, now that this happened, what now? I mean, we don't have the tooth, and there's no way we're fighting a beast like that again."

WX reached into his pack and grabbed out a small black egg with cracks all over it, lava seeping out of it. "I'M NOT SURE, BUT IT DROPPED THIS. MAYBE IF WE COULD FIND A WAY TO HATCH IT, IT COULD HELP US NEXT TIME WE FIGHT IT."

We grabbed the egg from his grasp, looking it over. "It's awfully small. Do you think it could really help us?"

"IT'D HAVE GROWN BY THEN."

We stretched, beginning to get our strength back. "We're going to go to the ocean to clean off a bit when the sun comes back up," I murmured. "What are you going to do?"

"PROBABLY GETTING WOOD. AFTERALL, WE NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO."

As always, the night was over far too quick and we were beginning to set off when WX grabbed our arm. We'd never seen him look so serious. "LOOK, YOU HAVE TO COME BACK, YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?"

Baffled, we nodded.

He dropped his gaze. "DON'T FORGET IT, WE NEED EACH OTHER NOW MORE THAN EVER."

"We do."

He let go. "THEN GO, AND PLEASE, COME BACK."

With a small smile, we set off again. What got into him? Had he seen something... heard something...? No, he would've told us. Maybe he just is worried about being alone if something happened to us. After all, we were all he have left.

We knew a way down now that didn't involve chucking ourself off of the ledge. When we got the the edge, we let the ocean spray wash the blood off of our fur and wounds. We felt much better afterwards, and a bit cooler. For some reason, after slaying the Dragonfly, the weather changed drastically. It was no longer blistering hot but instead a steady heat like the summers I used to play in when I was a child.

It brought back memories, and for a moment we were thrown into a whirlpool of long-buried memories. We remembered my childhood well, but there was something else that we never noticed before, someone else.

Someone was there, playing in the summer's heat, splashing in puddles but... who...? In these memories we caught the smallest glimpse of brown hair and amber eyes. I had a sister. We knew this from the Ancients, but little remained of her memory.

What happened to her? We found ourself on the day our life changed and the memories slowed down, seeming much more like watching it happen again. We were playing together on a summer day like this when we were attacked by spiders.

We remembered this detail painfully well. The terror, the sorrow, the sureness that we were going to die. She must've felt this too, but the difference is, she didn't make it. She was killed by them. We realized that she was Erika in a moment's flash and realized that we were pretty much doomed to repeat the past.

At least twice we were twins, at least twice she didn't make it, and at least twice we were stuck like this. As quick as they flashed by they were gone, and we were once again sitting by the ocean and letting it's salty spray soak our fur.

The memories brought us back to thinking about Wilson, and once more terror engulfed us as we realized that he was no longer there. As quick as possible, we found ourself sprinting back to camp. When we got there, panting, WX was staring wide-eyed at us. He yanked our arm and looked at us deeply, with an unimaginable terror.

"WEBBER, WE HAVE TO TALK."