15 Heart to Heart
a/n: Wolf manages to get the kid to join the plan. It takes more than he expected.
All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except for the kid.
Wolf didn't want to make a move until he knew where exactly the kid was located. He silently rummaged in a pocket of his vest, fishing out a small mirror. Maybe he could use it to get a sneaking view of whatever was around the cook tent. On the other hand, he really didn't want to expose himself by moving any farther than the back corner. He figured he could duck into the tent without drawing attention, maybe find a gap to peer through.
He got lucky. Before he had to try anything, the kid toddled back around the edge of the tent. He saw Wolf and froze. Wolf was glad that he was already in a crouch, not standing. He hoped he was less threatening that way. Nothing to be scared of, if the kid ignored Wolf's strange pale color and complete lack of head tentacles, and, yes, the assault rifle ready in one hand. Maybe the kid wouldn't recognize it as a weapon. Unlikely, given how heavy and ugly the weapon was. Wolf tried not to think about his own ugly face, disfigured by a scar and with a tight, mean mouth; even humans found it intimidating.
"Psst, kid. Come here," Wolf whispered. He tried to sound friendly.
The kid quite rightly did not go to Wolf. He didn't scream and run away either. Wolf grudgingly approved of this, even if the little dude was getting in the way of the plan.
"Come here," Wolf repeated. "I have a quick question," he added.
The kid shifted uneasily on his tiny feet.
"Your mom ... Sunilla ... she said to ask you," Wolf whispered.
The kid startled and took a step away, clutching the empty bowl to his narrow chest. This wasn't good.
"Please." Wolf tried not to sound desperate. "Come on."
It wasn't working. The kid was definitely backing away. Not stupid, this kid, but not what Wolf so desperately needed. If he grabbed the kid, the guards were bound to notice and Wolf would lose precious seconds. Duna would lose precious seconds. Time was so precious now, the real treasure for this mission. The most important treasure. The /prenar/. The one word in the Prone language that Wolf knew. The word that Sunilla's spirit or ghost or messenger (or whatever that weird figure on the Ma-non ship had been) had repeated so many times, the thing she had called for, over and over.
Wolf looked at the kid, feverish with realization. "Prenar," he whispered carefully, trying to remember how Duna had said it when they'd realized that each had heard the other's language unaided by the planet Mira. "Please, Prenar, come here."
The kid stepped toward Wolf.
One tiny step, maybe only half a step, then a second. One more step and then the kid was running in his wobbly baby way, straight for Wolf. He'd dropped his precious bowl. Nothing was going to slow this kid down now. Wolf put out his free arm to grab him, but the kid shot right past Wolf, both of his own skinny arms wide open. Wolf turned fast enough to see it, the moment that Prenar ran straight into the outstretched arms of Miss Duna Valdileo, once again crouching behind Wolf instead of waiting in safety.
Wolf saw it happen, and nothing changed in his brain. No recalculation, no examination of risks. There was nothing to note, nothing to be surprise him. This was as normal as gravity, as unexceptional as time, as destined as his next breath. Duna was holding the child tight, whispering soft words that meant nothing. Mostly the child's name, over and over. The kid had a strangle hold on Duna's neck, his little face tucked against her cheek. His stubby baby tentacles were curling and recurling around hers, as if neither could grasp the other enough times.
Wolf looked at them and his heart was unchanged. How can a heart be changed when the truth has always been waiting there?
He motioned to Duna, pointing back to the edge of the camp, crooking a finger towards the far right edge that was the planned escape route. Duna looked straight at Wolf. Her face was the purest blue, deep and bright, every freckle shining dark on her skin. There was nothing ghostly about her. "Prenar," she whispered, looking at Wolf for only one heatbeat. Then she ran, carrying the child in her arms.
Wolf snapped his gaze back to the space between the tents. There was still no movement from the main camp, but he could hear guards talking now, joking after their meal. He dropped the mirror back into his pocket, made sure his sword was ready to draw, rechecked his rifle, and took his last destined breath.
Then he started the fight.
a/n: Excuse me, I need another tissue. Must be smoke from the wildfires.
Next up: Regret. Oh joy, I get to start writing fight scenes [sarcasm].