Tell Me About Luck

The Countess D

The second line of defense. That's what Kuri had called them, back when she, Toboe, and Atra were cozy in another forest with no threats in sight. Now, as she looked across the water to the soldiers gathering on the opposite shore, she couldn't remember whether she'd even believed it, then. She certainly wasn't sure of it now.

There was an order to a hunt. But if Kuri had learned anything since she was carted off the mountain, it was that order didn't apply against humans looking to kill. Only chaos reigned in the Nobles' petty wars.

Her stomach turned. As far as chaos went, this island was far from it. In fact, apart from home, it was the most peaceful place Kuri had ever seen.

"What are we gonna do?" Toboe murmured beside her.

Wary of her fears being worn too openly, Kuri turned away. She brought a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, willing her frantic mind to slow and make sense of the encroaching disaster. The soldiers were coming. There was no time to consider what that meant for the fates of Kiba, Tsume, Seika, and the rest besides using the prospect of their deaths to fuel her. That's what Atra would do.

She shuddered at the thought. She was on her own now. Atra wasn't here.

"Kuri," Toboe said, reminding her that she wasn't truly alone. Not yet. "Are you okay?"

The simple answer was no. Seika had taken their strongest, which left them with the elders, the children, and not to mention Cheza. Then, there were the wolves like Toboe—the awkward in-betweens. It was a group more fit to herd than kill.

Her hand dropped as that thought settled in her.

"Kuri?"

"I'm fine. But we need to talk to Hakik."

"Right." Toboe took a step before going meek again, his fear written plainly on his face. "So you have a plan? We're—are we going to be okay?"

Kuri hesitated a second too long. Toboe's eyes dimmed. Then, with a smile that broke her heart, he reached forward to give her hand a comforting squeeze and said, "We'll be okay."

"A suicide mission," Hama said. "That's what you're proposing."

A tide of whispers rose up around Kuri, the eyes of the pack prickling against the back of her neck. She dulled herself to the sensation, focusing instead on digging in her heels along the slope of Hakik's camp.

"It's a sound strategy. Seika left us with wolves who may have the strength to kill, but tire easily. But the pups around Toboe's age have the energy to run. If they lure the soldiers to a clearing where the rest are waiting, we might have a chance."

"At incredible risk," Hama pointed out.

"It's that or we all run and hope for the best. But with their numbers…" Kuri squirmed in the quiet that followed, raising her voice to banish it. "Those who can't fight will move deeper into the forest. The ambush will act as a diversion, to make sure they can flee safely."

Beside Hama, Hakik stirred, straightening himself as if waking from a reverie. "And your maiden? Should we assume you'll be evacuating with her?"

Kuri paused to look at Cheza as she stood tall among the wolves. Her company was comforting in the best of times, but worrying now. Kuri took a deep breath, sending a prayer to the heavens that Kiba might forgive her.

"No. You shouldn't." At Cheza's understanding nod, she looked back up to Hakik. "You're trusting me with your pack. I trust you to take care of her in return."

"This one will help in the escape," Cheza interrupted, a smile gracing her lips as Hama and even Toboe started, their breath catching in sounds of protest.

The onlookers stirred, some put at ease by Cheza's assurance and others all the more skeptical. Their gazes lifted at the sound of Hakik chuckling above them.

He looked from Cheza to Kuri languidly, as if they weren't minutes away from hearing the crunch of a soldier's boots on their soil. "Useful?" Then, with a confidence Kuri envied, he chuckled. "I have no doubt."

Tsume had lectured him on the weaknesses of the human body once. The throat, to end things, but there were others, too. A slash across the back of the ankle to fell a would-be attacker. A well-placed blow to the shoulders and arms to make them drop their guns. But after seeing Toboe's wide-eyed stare, Tsume ended the lecture by turning aside and muttering, "But honestly, kid? If you're lucky, you'll never have to do anything but run."

Toboe would run today, but he didn't feel particularly lucky for it. It was clear that his companions felt the same, all those young wolves trembling at his side. Toboe buried his own trepidation as he urged them forward with a nod. He could smell armor and the light stink of sweat up ahead. The soldiers weren't far.

Sure enough, it was only a matter of minutes before they saw peeks of metal in the forest. Three men, twigs crunching beneath their heels. Toboe and the others slowed a safe distance away.

Even more than their armor, the soldiers' visors were bright in the forest, the glass attracting the forest's scant light. If he listened closely, Toboe could hear a soft whirr as they scanned their surroundings. With the sight their visors lent them, they would be visible in an instant. Easy bait.

Two wolves parted from the group and ran some distance ahead, purposefully entering the periphery of the soldiers' view. On cue, the stance of the men shifted from cautious to predatory, all of them crouching to follow their new targets.

It would be a tricky balancing act. The lures had to run fast enough to be out of range of the soldier's blasts and slow enough to be followed, until they reached the clearing where Hama would lead the ambush. The next group they found would be led to Kuri's clearing instead. Rinse, repeat, until they—the soldiers or the wolves—were gone.

Toboe desperately hoped it would be the former.

They came across the next group of soldiers quicker than the first. Four men this time, their guns already stubbornly raised at their path ahead. Toboe looked to the wolves at his side and found two terrified sisters. He'd seen them playing about Hakik's camp, if he remembered correctly. Kuri had noticed them, too.

They weren't that much younger than him, but the anxiety in their eyes aged him. Nervous as he was now, Toboe realized he'd abandoned real fear long ago, the sort that once paralyzed him as he stared down the barrel of the gun. Tsume had saved him then, and briefly Toboe found himself marveling at the fact that he was faced with the opportunity to offer to others what Tsume had to him. A bit of courage. A fighting chance.

"Are you ready?" He asked them now.

After a beat, they nodded. Toboe delivered what he hoped was a comforting smile back. It seemed that it was time, then, to lead.

"A blow to the visors," Kuri reminded her troop. "Under and up."

On Kuri's signal, they took their positions along the northern and southern edges of the clearing, waiting for their young wolves to burst through the leaves and guide their quarries to the east.

Sure enough, it took only a few minutes for Toboe and two others to appear. As planned, the pups hurtled past and skidded to a stop beyond the boundaries of the clearing, drawing the soldiers further in.

It was a gamble, Kuri knew. Reckless, maybe. A plan that risked Toboe's life and so many others, but doubt didn't have a chance to latch onto her racing mind when the soldiers tore through the trees. A wolf across the way pounced, its claws slashing at red glass, under and up. Then another. Then Kuri was moving, so quick it felt as if the wind were carrying her, guiding her attacks to the pale sliver of a throat.

That metallic stench grew, though its source had shifted. It was on their shoulders now, painted across their fangs and claws. When all was quiet, Kuri did a quick scan of the clearing. Counted the bodies.

She'd left Hakik's camp with seven wolves. Five survived the first group of soldiers Toboe had led to him. Those same five persisted through this one too, battered but still standing.

"Your plan's working," Toboe said, settling at her side.

He meant well, but Kuri couldn't help but scoff. The wolves they'd lost so far were past their prime, old enough that the survivors didn't fully begrudge her the loss. That didn't mean she felt any better for it, or that she had an ounce of confidence in this game. They were here to fight a losing battle. A handful of soldiers were nothing compared to the ones that were yet to be seen, the other threats floating to the island's neglected shores from across the way.

As if reading her thoughts, one of the pups that ran with Toboe whimpered. "There are too many of them. We won't be able to get them all."

"No. But that isn't the point," another chided. "We're just a distraction. Something to kill while the others escape."

As Kuri bore the weight of their glares, Toboe rushed to defend her. "If we keep fighting the way we have, no one else needs to die. And we have better things to do than keep standing here. We said we'd go south next. Instead of worrying, we should focus on moving fast and covering what we can, right?"

They exchanged their glances, skepticism replaced with resignation. Then they heard it—a blast from the heart of the forest and a bloodcurdling scream. They startled at the sound, gasping as more blasts followed quick succession, the crash of battle erupting in the direction of Hakik's camp.

Kuri cursed. "Change of plans." She broke out into a run, knowing she wouldn't need to ask the others to follow.

There were more soldiers than they'd accounted for. As Kuri listened to the guttural cries around them, she imagined what Atra would say. You did what you could, probably. You couldn't have known. But that didn't change the fact that wolves were dying; that the group Kuri had returned with was outnumbered by the bodies strewn across the soil. After only a couple of days with their pack, Kuri recognized them. Pups, elders, mothers that were meant to escape while they were gone.

The group of soldiers ransacking Hakik's camp was small but well-armed—five men that fired in waves, the staggered pitches of their guns compounding into a disorienting force that scrambled all the wolves' attacks.

Kuri and her troop watched the onslaught from the bushes, jaws slack as the soldiers drew their blades. As the defending wolves fell, a scream—pained and so devastating that Kuri wanted to collapse and mourn with it—sounded from the tree at the heart of the glade.

Cheza. Kuri could barely see her—a slash of lilac peeking between a curtain of roots where the mouth of Hakik's den had once been.

The soldiers advanced towards it, steel flashing in their hands. As if pulled on a string, the wolves beside Kuri shot forward, their eyes set on the hulking men and fangs bared.

"Stay back," she ordered Toboe before sprinting ahead. It was a matter of seconds before the soldiers turned to face them, their guns trained on the spaces between their eyes.

It was Atra who'd told her that tip about the helmets. Under and up.

It didn't matter. The triggers were pulled. The sound crashed against them, and Kuri went flying back. She must have gasped when she hit the ground. The others must have cried out. But she couldn't hear anything over the ringing in her ears, the blasts that kept coming, and the incessant sound of Cheza's scream.

Kuri forced her eyes open, the edges of her vision blurred as the soldiers approached, crouching only to rake their daggers through the sides of her fallen troop. This time, she was spared from hearing the rattle of their throats, guttural and wet.

Her world turned dark as one man towered over her, an eclipse over a brilliant sun. Kuri sighed, her eyes drifting shut as a blade pricked at her ribs.

The worst didn't come. The ground beneath her shuddered as the soldier fell. There was a touch to Kuri's shoulder, somehow gentle despite its urgency. She was pulled flush against a body, warm, sturdy. Pressed against her savior's chest, Kuri felt where smooth skin gave way to the rough contours of a scar against her cheek.

"Tsume," she said, her voice too loud in her deafened ears.

He glanced down at her, a hint of relief softening the lines on his brow before he turned forward. There was no time to respond.

As he carried her, Kuri turned her head, trying to process the battle that had unfolded around them. She tried to fit names to the slashes of color that sprinted towards the soldiers, distractions that allowed Tsume and Kuri to hurtle past. Seika. Hama. Toboe running to them before falling into step at Tsume's side.

As they came to a stop at the roots of the tree, the sea wolves reoriented themselves, twisting around the remaining soldiers to form a shield around Tsume as he hammered at the bark. Kuri squinted up at him as his fist fell against the roots, struggling to fit the shape of his lips to the words: Cheza… out… need to leave.

But Cheza was crying. This close to the maiden, Kuri could feel her despair as she drowned in the smell of wolf's blood.

She struggled against Tsume's grip. When he reluctantly set her down, the world spun. She stumbled forward, catching herself and pressing her forehead against the roots. "Cheza," she struggled to say, her tongue heavy in her in mouth. "Kiba needs us."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tsume watched her with a look fraught with panic and another feeling Kuri couldn't place. His eyes were torn away a moment later as the roots trembled, parting beneath their hands.

Hakik was the first to emerge, his grayed eyes cast out over the bloodshed in his glade. Behind him, Cheza crouched with the youngest of the pack, their mouths opening with pitchy cries that managed to reach even Kuri's ears.

Hakik reached back, taking Cheza's hand and urging her forward. He stepped out of the den to place her hand in Tsume's. As the roots closed once more, shielding the pups from harm, Hakik turned to them and murmured in low tones. Kuri deciphered his message by the look on Toboe and Tsume's faces; Toboe's shout in protest; Tsume's quick shake of the head.

No, Cheza seemed to say, turning to Hakik. But he wouldn't have it.

Toboe's hand slipped into Kuri's, his grip gentle as he pulled her away.

As Kuri understood, she turned to Hakik with a protest of her own. But the old wolf smiled, as calm as ever, before turning towards his battered kin and running into the fray.

Even as Kuri was pulled into the forest, she kept her eyes on them—the keepers, blocking the soldiers' path as they caught sight of Cheza and started their pursuit. Wolves leaping uselessly against armor. Hakik as he pounced at a soldier, his body falling after a flurried struggle.

Seika and Hama rushed to him as Kuri screamed and fought against Toboe's grip. He squeezed harder, pulling her deeper into the forest. As the battle disappeared behind the forest leaves, Kuri thought she could just barely hear the keepers crying, urging them, "Run."

Tsume watched Kuri haul herself onto the pebbled shore, his eyes roving over her body, checking for wounds. There was a gash on her side where the dagger had pierced her. Besides that, she was covered in scratches and bruises—small wounds that would be quick to heal under the light of the moon.

The rest were in better shape. Other than a few bumps and bruises, Cheza had escaped from the brunt of the assault with ease, cloaking herself and the most vulnerable wolves in Hakik's den. It was promising. Besides the ringing in their ears, they were well enough to run.

Tsume carried Cheza out of the water and set her on her feet. As he lifted his hands from her waist, she turned morosely towards the island. "They're dying. All so this one could escape."

Kuri directed her gaze to the ground in mourning. Beside her, Toboe shook his head. "Not all. You saved the pups. And they're strong. You don't know if… if—"

Kuri dared a glance at the others as Toboe fell silent. Cheza and Toboe's heads hung heavy, a soft sniffle coming from the latter. Only Tsume was upright, looking down the beach as if an answer might appear along the shore. Before he could respond, Cheza's chin tipped up with a quiet gasp, tears brimming her lashes. "Kiba."

Two figures emerged from the forest. It was as Cheza said, Kiba and Hige, battered but alive. The pack ran forward to meet them halfway, with Toboe crying out at the sight of their wounds. "You're hurt!"

There was a haunted twist to Hige's gentle face. Behind a frayed collar, his throat was splotched purple and black, so dark it was easy to mistake it for mud. Meanwhile, Kiba's shoulder was tattered, bleeding, torn in a way that was only possible with the wild weapons of fangs and claws. Kuri stared at them, understanding what must have happened before Kiba confirmed her suspicions with a small nod.

But the talk would come later. Kiba shook off Toboe's concern, pushing past to grasp Cheza's hand in his. "It doesn't matter." He paused, his head turning to look across the water to the island. Above the trees, there were the beginnings of smoke, its dark curls floating up into the sky. "Did they make it?"

The pause was answer enough. Finally, Toboe ventured, "Maybe some."

Kiba's eyes drifted shut, as if blocking sight would change the story. When he opened them again, Tsume was looking to Hige with a wary eye. "And Rafe?"

Toboe frowned. "Rafe?" Kuri looked at him, assuring him that the answers would come later with a quick shake of the head.

Hige scowled, his voice bitter if weak. "He's still out there."

"Other soldiers, too," Tsume warned, remembering the few they'd left standing in the trees.

"Then we need to keep moving." Kiba squeezed Cheza's hand, whether to comfort her or him, he wasn't sure. But it was enough for her to flash an uncertain smile. "You found the keepers. Can you lead us past the men?"

Cheza blinked. Then, with a sure nod, she led them to the edge of the forest. The wind stirred the trees as they approached, the sound a mockery of applause. She came to a stop just beneath their cover, placing a hand on a nearby trunk and closing her eyes.

As they followed, Kuri walked alongside Hige. "Are you all right?"

"No." A chuckle to soften the blunt response. "That bastard did a number on me."

"On all of us," she replied, shooting a frown at Kiba's wound. "Was he alone?"

Hige shook his head, only to wince a moment later. "He got a soldier to knock me out. My ears are still ringing." He paused before muttering, "Rafe killed him too."

"They're coming from the southeast," Cheza said, her voice soft against the whistling in their ears.

"We escape north, then," Tsume said, turning on his heel.

"Wait," Kiba said, turning to Hige with an intense look in his eye. "You said your ears are ringing."

He nodded. "Yeah. I got hit with a couple of those blasts."

"Ours too," Toboe said. "Or at least mine, are."

"They were shooting them all over the island," Kuri explained, absentmindedly toying with her own ear as if she could coax away that persistent tone. "The swim probably didn't help either."

The leaves swayed with a brutal wind above them as Kiba frowned. "I didn't fight any soldiers," he began, "But I hear it too."

His words sank in as the wind grew stronger. And just like that, dread cooled their blood. Kiba pushed past them, peeking out from beneath the trees and into the skies as the sound swelled to an oppressive whistle that pinned them to the spot.

There was a dark spot blotting the northern sky, curved wings cutting through the clouds like scythes. An airship Kiba had seen once, twice, countless lives before. A reaper eager to collect.

He wasn't sure who shouted first, or which of them was the first to run. Perhaps they all broke into a sprint at once, caught in their desperation to escape. All Kiba cared was that his hand found Cheza's, the maiden pulling him as they fled, leading them away from the coast and into the forest, pushing east. Under the cover of trees, they had a chance. A minuscule one, but its existence was enough—the possibility that they could elude the ship bearing down on them and disappear.

The sound of its flight was blaring now, the wind parting the trees as it slowed overhead. Even through the noise, Kiba could hear them. Their harsh breaths. Kuri's whimper. Tsume encouraging them in spite of it all. "Keep running, damn it!"

But their opportunity to escape slipped away as quickly as the ship had appeared. A monstrous hum sounded behind them as it drifted towards land, followed by the crunch of felled trees. The wind slowed to a hush. In a matter of seconds, the hum halted, too. In the quiet, Toboe slowed and spoke. "Is it gone?"

Kiba looked over his shoulder. Behind Toboe, he could see the ship settled in the distance. Panic seized him at the sight. It was too familiar, too similar to what had come before. Before Kiba could call to him, before he could dislodge the voice that stuck in his throat, a beam of light split the air.

"Toboe!" Hige shouted then, or now, or always, his cry so terrible that all of them turned on their heels in time to see the young wolf's body rise and fall.

It wasn't supposed to happen here. Kiba had made sure of it, or at least, he'd tried, rushing the pack away from the flowered path and to the sea. But where had it brought him? To this cursed marsh with Kuri hunched over Toboe's body, checking for breath. To the wreckage of the sea wolves, kept for centuries and eradicated in less than day. To the foot of an airship once more, helpless as it spit a ramp from its open mouth. No, for all the running they'd done, Kiba couldn't help but think that all he'd done was prolong the inevitable. All amounted to nothing; nothing at all.

The inevitable was a noble with hair the color of a raven's wing and a patch over his left eye. Darcia. He stood in the metal maw of the ship with a smile so handsome as to be cruel. He took in the bulk of the pack with a cursory glance, as if they were little more than pebbles at his feet. But his gaze lingered on the faces of Kiba, Hige, and Cheza, no doubt remembering their last encounter in the city.

"The wolves," he greeted them. Cheza gasped at the Noble's voice, jolting upright. "I've been wondering where you were. Cheza. It's been a long time."

Kiba gritted his teeth as he looked the Noble in the eye, searching for any indication that he remembered this dance. That he, too, knew that they'd done this before. "What are you doing here?"

"I'd wondered why Jaguara sent so many soldiers to my territory. Imagine my surprise." The Noble made his way down the ramp, the metal clicking beneath his heels. "You did well, making it this far. Did you think you were clever? That you were on your way to Paradise?"

"The time has not yet come for that," Kiba finished. The footsteps ceased. Darcia stared at him, planting his feet planted in soft soil as a flicker of confusion lit his expression. Kiba smirked. "It doesn't matter. You're not taking Cheza."

"Is that what you think?"

There was no warning as heat coursed through the airship's wings, rapidly collecting in the space between and lashing out in another scarlet beam. Kiba braced himself, the wound in his shoulder throbbing in anticipation, only for the light to hurtle past.

There was a crash, a burst of grass and mud. Kuri throwing her own body across Toboe's. Tsume shouting her name across the way. And then, the scent of spilt blood. The scent of tears soon after.

Behind them, Cheza trembled, her head tipping back with a strangled shriek that tore at them more fiercely than the sound of any airship ever could.

"The blood of wolves," Darcia murmured. "How magnificent."

Panic, again. That sense that Kiba knew where this was going. The memory of failure. A natural hesitation to lose what he'd already lost before. But still he steeled himself and faced Darcia. Took a breath. Played his part. "Get out of our way."

And then he was running; running as he always was, only to slam against a barrier. As Kiba fell back into the mud, another rushed past. There was another thud. A surge of warmth as the ship prepared another beam. Hige was knocked into the air by the time Kiba had rolled back onto his feet.

Again.

Tsume, now. Beside him, loyal and furious to a fault. They sprinted back in hopes of creating more distance between them and the ship, their paws flying across the soil of the plains—no, the mud of the marsh—no, another beam speeding towards them, cutting through the trees, and this time it was Kiba to bear the brunt of it, his whole body blazing as he was thrown back.

Cheza was crying.

Tsume was roaring.

Kiba was trying, already on his feet and sprinting forward in an attempt to reach him, but the attacks kept coming, crimson light tearing through the forest in cruel angles. Tsume was quick to throw his body up against the barrier, hoping to push his way through, but no. He wasn't quick enough.

Kiba barreled forward in his stead, his vision going red as the ship fired another blast. Another. Another. Another wound. Another life. Another one of Cheza's screams.

Long after the rest of the pack had fallen, Kiba stood stubborn under Darcia's watchful eye. If he could do nothing else, at least he could do this. Stand as long as his body would let him. Throw himself into failure again and again. Pain, at least, meant that Cheza was still with him. It meant he was alive.

Darcia's next attack sent him soaring, his mud and blood-caked body landing hard on the forest floor. He gasped. Tried to stand. Then, in the lull between attacks, the sound he'd been dreading all along.

"Kiba," Cheza said.

"That's enough."

Kiba hauled himself onto his feet in time to see Rafe step out from between the trees.

"What's this?" Darcia said, more amused than anything. "Another wolf out to play?"

The ship fired another beam, but Rafe was prepared. He darted across the mud, dodging its path in a blur and a blink. As the light faded, it took a moment for Kiba to place Rafe in their ransacked battle field. Then he found him at the center of it all. Rafe, restraining Cheza against him, claws at her throat.

For only a moment, Darcia's eyes widened with Kiba's. "I said that's enough," Rafe called to him. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Cheza." Kiba lunged towards them only for a bullet to plummet from the trees, landing just shy of his feet. As he stilled, Cheza squirmed against Rafe's grip, only to gasp at the press of his claws.

Rafe met Kiba's eyes over her shoulder, nodding towards the trees with a smirk. "Your pack did a number on us. But we have a few men, yet."

From the foot of the ship, Darcia watched Cheza resigned herself to her captivity with a frown. "Bullets and rash decisions will do you no good here."

"No rash decisions," Rafe replied. "But a message from Lady Jaguara."

A thick silence settled over the clearing. Then came Darcia's graveled purr. "A message?"

"Well," Rafe began. Cheza's whimper was the only indication that he'd tightened his hold. He finished his thought over Kiba's growl. "Really, she's offered a deal."

Rafe so loved his deals. Claws itching, Kiba took an aching step towards him only to summon another bullet from the gunman in the trees. This time, Rafe didn't bother to look his way as Kiba stopped short.

"Lady Jaguara takes the maiden in return for a bit of advice."

"You're talking nonsense." Behind Darcia, the wings of the ship thrummed to life. But then Rafe adjusted his hold once more, twisting Cheza's arm behind her back to make her gasp. The hum quieted as Darcia's eyes narrowed.

"Glad to see we're on the same page."

So close, Kiba could see a hint of anxiety in Rafe's smirk. He watched as Rafe tipped his head towards Cheza, instructing her in a low murmur. Barely, he could make out the directive. The thread.

Cheza turned her head towards him before answering with a tentative nod. A shaking hand lifted, reaching behind her to settle against Rafe's neck.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kiba hissed vehemently enough for Rafe to finally acknowledge him with a passing glance.

A moment later Cheza withdrew her hand, a small pouch dangling from her fingers by a loop of twine. "This?" She clarified, the slightest of lines appearing on her brow as Rafe nodded and murmured once more. Kiba had just caught the whisper of his name when she tossed it to him.

"A hint of what she has to offer. Take it to him," Rafe ordered.

Kiba took a slow breath, a denial rising up in his throat when Darcia spoke from the north. "Do as he says."

What else could he do but comply? Kiba picked it up, his bones aching as he bent towards the earth, and made his way once more to the ship. This time, his journey was deliberate. Slow. He could feel his limbs tremble at every step, their gazes weighing heavy on him as he walked. He stopped well before the invisible barrier, glaring at Darcia's contented smile, before throwing the satchel at his feet.

For the first time in their battle, Darcia deigned to move. He stooped low to accept the gift; picked at the opening with a gloved hand. Then, he stilled.

"What is this?" He hissed, his uncovered eye widening with something that looked like fear.

From the mouth of the satchel came color. Darcia held it up for all to see. A lock of hair that sparked in the light, a soft shade of green.

"Lady Jaguara would like to remind you," Rafe began, "That life is short."

Darcia lifted his eyes, the horror on his face unbridled and grotesque. His hands trembled as he looked from Rafe, to Cheza, to Kiba, as if making sense of their odd web.

"Her advice: if you move quickly, there is still time."

And they waited. For Darcia to respond, for another blast to burst forth, for speech to break the harsh sounds of their breaths. When their stalemate broke with Darcia's sudden movement, Kiba lurched forward in anticipation of it. But then he realized Darcia had turned from them, whirled on his heel to travel back up the ramp.

"Kiba!"

He turned to see Cheza being pulled away by a pair of armored men, her body looking so frail between theirs. Rafe marched towards him, stepping over Tsume and Hige's bodies as if they were nothing more than puddles in the dirt. A growl tore through Kiba's throat as he broke into a sprint, determined to meet him halfway.

"Let her go!" Kiba shouted, pushing his worn body to move faster even as the wind picked up around them, the ship readying to lift.

Another bullet hailing from the leaves. The sting of it knocked Kiba off balance as it carved a path through his side. But he shook it off and kept running. To his surprise, Rafe lifted a hand, shouting above the din. "Hold your fire."

They met as the air began to whistle, as the ship began to soar. A flurry of teeth and claws, Rafe aiming his blows to every one of Kiba's open wounds.

Not quick enough. Not strong enough. Not enough at all.

Then Rafe was on him, a weight on his throat, stopping Kiba's breath. Kiba choked as he struggled against it, clawed at him as the air around them shrieked. "You can't take her," he gasped.

And for an awful moment, he thought there was a flash of sympathy in Rafe's cold eyes. A moment's hesitation, a hint of guilt. But then, he pressed harder, letting Kiba claw at him as he pinned him to the ground. Rafe leaned towards him, and despite the ship soaring away, the air around them at a deafening pitch, Kiba heard his command.

"Play dead," Rafe said.

And all the world went black.