I bound to you. The flier motionlessly stared at the figure before him, his chest sank and rose in shallow breaths. He was not dead yet.
His wings jolted open, then his gaze met the figure's... the boy's hand. Darted over to the bloodied blade he had dropped. He had... dropped?
"What has you hesitating? The crowd waits."
He winced as the familiar voice spoke from behind and twirled around, to be met with a pair of still somewhat unnervingly blue eyes.
"Is this not the moment you have waited for? Longed for?" She emerged between two braziers and stepped towards him, her silvery fur shone brightly in the eerie light. "This is now at last your moment of truth. You have told me so many times I have long given up counting them you wanted nothing more than to be free, and the only way to free yourself from a parasite is..."
"... to kill it." The sand beneath the still figure of the boy was drenched in dark blood. It continuously oozed from the wound in his side. It would soon reach his own claws if he did not –
"Well?"
His jaw clenched and his talons dug deeper into the sand. She was right, this was ridiculous. He had waited, waited so long for... He has never viewed you as his equal. A servant, at best. Do you wish to serve someone who will never give back, not even a thank you, for the rest of your life? What would your past self – that glorious, proud flier who mocked others for being too giving and reluctant – say if he could see you now?
He was not a servant. Not a willing soul to be shackled against his will, to someone who... He does not deserve one so thoughtful and caring as you. He will never understand. Never appreciate. Never release you, not for as long as your bond is still in place. And there is but one way to end a bond. You know as well as I, you will not feel truly safe anymore, not for as long as he is still out there, somewhere.
His mouth tore open and released a harrowing scream as he cowered down, eyes on his target. It was enough now. He had imagined himself here so many times, and each time he had gone through with it. For it was the only way. The only way... she had said, the only way, the only...
I am thoroughly convinced he would kill you without hesitation, should he ever get the chance. If you demonstrate unwillingness to serve him, he has no use for you anymore.
His head darted up and he fixated the bloodied blade. Kill you without hesitation... her voice spoke in his head, kill you without hesitation. He frowned and for the first time allowed himself to peek at the face of the boy. The face...
"He has... surrendered."
The silver rat who had come up beside him now froze. "I...", her tail twitched and her eyes narrowed, "how is that of any importance now?" She inched even closer, "Can you not hear them? The crowd, they all long to see him die. Will you truly disappoint them now? But most importantly, disappoint yourself?"
His head darted up to be faced with a roaring crowd of rats, not a single of them had their tail pointing up.
"You said...", he angrily shook his head and turned his gaze back down at the boy, "you said he would kill me without hesitation, should he ever get the chance." Despite his best efforts, the face of the boy flashed before him, the face of the boy moments before he had dropped his sword. It was odd, for a long time, picturing this face had not invoked any positive emotion whatsoever, yet... I'm sorry... but here is my word. Something deep inside him shuddered.
"Well, that hardly matters now."
He frowned at the sudden cold in her tone. She had never sounded cold, he had almost not believed she was capable of sounding cold. She had also never... contradicted herself.
"What the hell are you talking about?", he instinctively retreated, to not have to look at the boy anymore. It had all made sense. Everything she had ever uttered had made sense. With his own observation, or with what she had told him of the happenings here.
A word suddenly rang in his ears faintly, then grew louder until it permeated him like a thundering siren, a word screamed by a voice that had, until a few minutes ago, had his spine tingle with searing rage.
Death!
"I told you this wouldn't work, he would never do it!"
The flier winced and nearly stumbled as he twirled around. His eyes widened and his heartbeat tripled at the sight of the nearly seven-foot-tall rat with the neat brown fur who now pushed Tonguetwist aside. "I'll kill him myself, and the boy too, for good measure."
"Longclaw, I told you to stay out of sight, he –"
"You are with HIM?!"
The pretty silver rat winced. "I –", but he paid her no attention. His unbelieving stare fixated on the rat with the vicious grin. On the scar, it was still there, still there as he had left it, nearly...
"And so we meet again, Skullface", Longclaw snarled and fell to all fours, "Down in the icy caves you escaped me, but not this time. You wear that scar well, by the way, goes with your face nicely", he laughed, "Well, I would introduce Tonguetwist but as you are acquainted, we shall skip that. Now SEIZE HIM!"
Instantly he spotted rats leap from their seats on the bleachers, streaming into the arena. Closing in on him. On... his gaze instinctively darted to Tonguetwist yet she stood passively at Longclaw's side. Not rushing to help, not begging him to call off his rats, not...
"You LIAR!" His cry rang painfully loud in their all ears, even Longclaw winced and put his ears on. "You are... are..." She was a liar. She had been a liar all along. All this time, she had... he glimpsed at the spiteful Longclaw... she had lied. She had lied, she had... betrayed. The word sent a shiver down his spine and his gaze wandered desperately, over the crowd of bloodthirsty rats, over Longclaw and Tonguetwist, side by side, staring at him coldly. He needed out. He needed out now, or he would...
When the first of Longclaw's rats then leaped at him he instantly lunged forward and dug his teeth into his neck. The gnawer gave a pained squeak and sank to the floor. Yet he was not the only one.
He could not fight them, not them all, and not without – then his gaze found something, someone, the only one in this crazed, frightening kettle of rats who sought not to kill him. Who had refused to kill him.
Before a leaping rat could reach him he had darted forward and rammed his head into the gnawer's stomach, sending him flying backward. He had to get out, it repeated in his head, he had to... they had to.
Faster than any more rats could reach them he had enclosed the boy's arm with his talon and hurled him into the air, higher than even the best among the gnawers could jump. The flier himself was out of their reach in mere heartbeats and swiftly caught the shape of the boy before he could begin to properly fall.
Out. Out, they needed out.
He flew frantic circles beneath the nearly two hundred feet high ceiling of the enormous cave they had set the arena up in and attempted to determine where there was a way out. A way the rats could not take.
When his echolocation at last showed a tunnel opening, some fifty feet below, he immediately darted down, narrowly preventing a collision with the wall. It was all static in his head, all a confusing array of images and flashes he doubted were real, as he made his way down the narrow tunnel.
He nearly ran into the wall again as he suddenly sensed a faint tug on his fur. A hand, an arm, wrapping tighter around his neck. An unwanted blade pierced his heart as he was taken back to a different trek, a trek that had nearly cost him his ability to fly. Now all he sensed was the sting of the rip the boy had torn into his wing, the same boy on his back, the boy...
His jaw clenched and he darted forward like an arrow. There must be something... something... where was he to go? He barely prevented a frustrated scream and looped back. Where was he going? Where was he now? He had to... had to...
The boy on his back twitched. Only now he took notice of the blood that had by now soaked his fur. The boy was... Help. He needed help. From somewhere, someone, or he would... The flier blinked, he would... die. Die as I wanted him to, he forced himself to think. Die as I wanted more than anything, up until... He could not die. His erratic flight pattern nearly broke as he narrowly avoided a dead end. Not before he had... he had... explained what he had done earlier. What he had said. What he had meant. He must explain, he must... must... live.
The thought filled him up and nearly drowned him, strange yet familiar. Is this how it will always be, he shuddered, is it in truth me who is holding on? Who can not let go? The face of the boy pierced his mind, lifeless and still. Is it me who is not strong enough to...
Through his swarming thoughts, he only perceived the sound as it had grown so loud it could hardly be overheard. It flooded his exhausted, hurting body with fresh hope... it was the sound of rushing water.
When the flier at last darted out of a tunnel into a cave brightly illuminated by a distinct orange glow and recognized where he was, he nearly lost control over his wings. Angrily he caught himself over the familiar lake and swiftly landed on the shore. This was... it was water, it was light, so it was good. The rats would not have followed, so he was safe. He was...
He quickly turned to face away from the lake and the waterfall, and shook the boy off his back. Blood dripped from his fur and sullied the ground beneath, but it was not his blood.
"Hen...ry?"
The name brought with itself a strange aftertaste, yet the flier disregarded it, even drew closer. The boy lied so still he barely noticed any movement in his chest. The skin of his face seemed nigh-transparent and sunken.
An unexpected swell of panic overwhelmed the flier and he nearly slipped in the blood that had formed a small puddle around where he cowered as he scooted closer. He... would not really die, would he? He could not... die. He could not...
You wanted him to die. He disgustedly shook his head as the voice of Tonguetwist spoke in his head. You wanted him to release you more than anything. So much so you were willing... EAGER to come here today. To see him. To kill him yourself.
A shiver ran down his spine as he shook his head to chase the voice. She had no right to speak to him, not after –
"W... what..."
He winced as a different voice faintly spoke, it took him a few heartbeats to understand it was not in his head. It was real.
"H... Henry?"
His eye flung open and for a moment their gazes locked before a jolt ran through the boy's body. He cried and attempted to scramble up, to scoot away, yet fell back at once and painfully clutched his stomach. "N... NO!"
The flier's mouth opened yet the boy instantly attempted to move again, his hand desperately tried to get a grip on the slippery ground. "N... no... please... please don't..." His eye squinted and as soon as the flier moved towards him his hands abandoned their search and darted up to shield his face. "D... don't hurt me...!"
A never-experienced type of pain pierced the flier's heart at the words and his talons dug into the ground forcefully, attempting to steady his trembling body. "I... I am not..."
"He is not going to hurt you BUT I MIGHT, ONCE ALL THIS IS OVER!"
The flier winced and darted around, falling into attack position automatically, but to his surprise, it was the familiar shape of Kismet that now emerged from a grounded tunnel. Her claws scraped the floor as she hasted towards them, and at the boy. "Henry? Henry! HENRY!"
"K... Kis..." His lid fluttered and he fell limp again before he could finish his sentence.
"Henry, it is me! Dammit, you are a hopeless moron!", she cried and at once ripped the lower part of his shirt to reveal the source of the bleeding.
The flier's jaw clenched at the sight of the deep tear in the boy's flesh that persistently oozed dark, thick blood.
"Shit... this is SHIT!", Kismet hissed between clenched teeth and darted over to the lake to soak the fabric she had torn off, then back to the boy. He let out an excruciating scream as she pressed the piece of fabric to his injury. "I will kill you myself, you hear? I will save your worthless life and then KILL YOU MYSELF! I told you to STAY PUT and what do you – HEY!"
The flier winced when her head darted up to stare at him and he instinctively inched back. Would she... had she seen it had been he who...
"What are you loafing around there for?", she cried and increased the pressure. Already, the cloth was soaked in dark blood.
"I...", yet she cut him off – "I can NOT SAVE HIM, YOU HEAR?" The flier's mouth helplessly opened, but she beat him to speaking again – "This is not a scratch you can bandage and allow to heal itself! This is a stab wound, and a deep one, for that. If we are lucky I can perhaps stop the bleeding, you seem to not have hit any arteries, so we have that going for us."
"I... I didn't mean to –" He had meant to. An overwhelming wave of shame, of self-loathing, at last hit the flier as he stared at the lifeless body of the boy. He seemed so frail he suddenly thought Kismet was pushing too hard, so hard she might break him in half.
"HEY!" The rat's vexed voice pierced the uprising storm in his head. "I have but a SINGLE question for you." Despite her short-sightedness, she gazed directly at him. "Do you WANT HIM TO LIVE?"
The next half an hour went by the flier in a haze. All that replayed in his head was Kismet's order – The human settlement is too far away so I take Henry with me to my cave and you fly back to the arena, the vicinity. Perhaps they are holding prisoners, anything or anyone who can help us. Only if we are left with no other choice you will fly for the Fount.
He barely remembered neither the trek nor how he had ended up in the prison pit that supplied fighters for the arena. It was only when he spotted a pair of spinners shackled in a corner of the pit when he found some of his hope returned.
Anything and everything they wanted, he promised, on top of their freedom, if only they came and saved the life of his friend. His... he blinked, yet before he could ask himself if he still had any right to call him that, the spinners occupied all his attention as the larger one stepped forth to accept the terms.
Despite his hurry, he carried the pair of pinchers, and the tattered old rat they were holding as well, out of the pit before he began making his way towards Kismet's cave, with the spinners on his back.
Every second stretched into eternity, every tunnel seemed too long, too convoluted. He banned all his shame from his mind, all the creeping thoughts of how, had he not been so consumed with rage, they would not be in this situation. Yet the more time passed, the harder it became to not think. If he died now, he would die by the flier's own claw.
An undeserved wave of relief washed over him as he darted out into the large cavern that led to Kismet's cave. As soon as he landed he was greeted by the rat, her front paws were colored in a uniform blood red. She directed the spinners in at once, only the flier himself remained sitting by the entrance, staring after them like in a trance.
It must have been hours... days... that passed silently, only interrupted by the occasional distant screams of the boy, from within the cave. For the flier outside, the world stood still.
He always made an effort to remain on top of things, especially his own thoughts, but now he did not even attempt to sort out the convoluted mess that clustered his head. Words of Tonguetwist, of the boy... Henry, he consciously thought the name. Of Henry. And... his own.
The more it all pressed at him, the more he inched backward, until he sat at the very edge of the cliff. He took in the deathly silence, and at last turned from the cave. From... the boy.
"HEY!" He winced and nearly fell off the cliff as a voice cried out, yet it was not that of Henry. "Hey, where the hell do you think you are going? It will be your turn soon. That wing needs stitching." Kismet stood before him, paws still soaked in blood, and stared from a narrowed eye.
"I..." He gazed at her helplessly, attempting to find a way to express his confused thoughts in words. To express the single realization he had been able to draw from it all.
But the rat, once again, beat him to speaking – "You still don't get it, do you?" He stared at her with bewilderment and she groaned. "Listen, if you seriously leave now, after ALL THAT HAS HAPPENED, I will personally hunt you down and drag you back here. Because, when he wakes up", she stepped closer and pointed behind herself, "I will most certainly not be explaining to him why you have left – AGAIN."
"The air inside is not all toxic, you know...?"
The flier did not move from his spot atop the pillar when he spotted Kismet's shape in the faint light from the steaming creek that ran beneath.
"What I mean is, you will not die the moment you enter."
His head rose from the cool stone. His mouth opened yet his mind was void of words. He could not go inside. Not for as long as –
"He has been conscious, earlier."
The flier winced and his head twisted to look at the rat who cowered beneath the pillar, glancing up at him. A hundred questions instantly clogged his head, was his condition stable? Had he asked for him? Had he even remembered he was here? Yet out of his mouth came no sound.
"He will live", Kismet guessed the most pressing of his questions, "most likely. Spinners are excellent medics when the price is right. I can't believe all the junk he has won in the arena has at last amounted to something."
The flier released a relieved breath, yet quickly averted his gaze in shame. He had no right to be relieved. Not he, who –
"And now, will you at last tell me what the actual HELL happened with you two because I have been forced to live with speculations and vague hints here and there for the last four months and have had about enough."
His jaw clenched and he stared down at her helplessly. His mouth opened, then closed again. His mind reeled, but there were no words. No thoughts. What... had happened with them? What had... it had worked so well, at some point. Back after the boy had rescued him from the spinner prison, it had all worked so well. They had been they, and they had been... he blinked, happy? He had been happy. He had been... for the first time in a glooming, black eternity he had been... happy. And then something had happened. Something had changed. What had...
"We bonded."
"My, that concept must have changed, since I last graced civilization."
The flier frustratedly shook his head. "That's not what I... I mean I don't mean the concept, I mean that is what changed... I think."
"You think?"
His wings jolted open and shut. "I... I am not...", he attempted to sort out all the thoughts that reeled about in his head, "I think. I mean, that was when it changed. When it... when I..."
"When you decided it was a good idea to battle your bond to the death?"
"NO!" He pulled his wings tighter around himself, "I have not... I did not even know he was there until she told me. I mean, I might have not even... it was she who –"
"She?"
The flier stared at the sizzling creek. "It... we left for the Ice System that day, you remember that. But it did not all work out as well as we thought, something caused a... a flood and we were washed up and then there was that waterfall..." His eyes shut tightly as he sensed the boy's arms around him, his hand tightly clutching his claw. Don't let go.
"We... were washed down and I... I do not exactly remember what happened but, when I awoke, in front of me sat a gnawer." He swallowed. "I thought myself lost, yet she... she did not attack me. All she did was ask whether I was feeling well." Why had she not attacked him? If she had been Longclaw's confidant all along, why had she not... "She claimed she had pulled me out of the lake, and she introduced herself as... Tonguetwist."
His mouth opened to continue speaking but Kismet gave a loud, shrieking laugh. "OH, so it WAS her I smelled below with you two... I hadn't been certain with all those other rats, but now this...", she scoffed, "this makes much more sense. Let me guess, she was all friendly and charming, and on the side started asking questions as to how you ended up in the lake, and then you told her the story you just told me, and suddenly it was like you two were the best of friends."
The flier's mouth opened yet Kismet was not done yet – "And before you knew it she had wrapped you around her slippery tail, reinforcing your doubts and fears, and at last convinced you that to go and KILL your own bond was the best path forward. Were I to guess, she said something about freeing yourself from what was holding you back. That was always her favorite ruse."
He stared down at her for a few heartbeats, then his mouth fell shut.
"Pah, you must not believe a single word that comes from her mouth, she is truly a rat among rats, to put it... nicely."
He lied as still as stone, his head spun and pounded with a dull ache. It was all... it had all been a ruse, of course. She had shown her true colors in the arena. It all seemed to reinforce what Kismet was saying, and Kismet was trustworthy... was she? He blinked down at her, she had harbored Henry, had she not? She must be... must be... but if it all had been a lie, a trick to... to what? What had been the goal behind all of this? Why had she gone through all the trouble to...
I really don't mind, you know? Her carefree laugh rang in his head, to visit so frequently. I hardly have anything else to do. Besides, I believe you could use the company. When have you even last had the chance to speak freely to a kindred soul?
It had all... been a lie.
Oh, my heart aches every time I hear such a tragic story as yours. Nobody deserves to be alone in this world, nobody deserves to be used and exploited in such an atrocious manner.
He released a shaky breath. She had been so... so... she had listened... cared. His talons dug into the stone until the edge crumbled. She had not cared. She had not cared... and the boy had not cared either. She had used him... they had all used him. For them all he had been just a... a means to achieve selfish goals. His eyes squinted as a wave of sharp pain pierced his heart. What had remained of his heart.
Why could he not... why could he not find a single caring soul in this world, for as desperately as he searched? Why could he not... was it he, who was at fault? Was it not enough for the world to take everything he loved, must it dangle what he so desperately desired before his face only to have it crumble to dust as soon as he touched it?
He had no real reason to reveal any of the thoughts that gnawed at his heart like hungry insects to Kismet yet he could not prevent the imminent swell of words from spilling either. He had to speak. He had to rid himself of it all before it devoured him alive. And so he opened his mouth, only for the words to pour out nearly on their own.
He spoke of Arya, of Longclaw, of his seven-year-long, self-induced torment, then of Henry, of their time together – the great and the good, and at last of the times he wished to scratch from his mind, yet somehow it were those times he seemed to remember most vividly. Then he spoke of Tonguetwist, of her promises and claims, of her endless talks of self-sufficiency and freedom, and of how eagerly he had sucked it all up because he had wanted to hear it. He had... needed to hear it. From someone. Anyone.
He spoke and spoke until his throat was sore and his talons hurt from how hard he clutched the edge of the pillar. Until he had it all out of his system, all he had not been able to say before. All he had been too ashamed, too proud to say.
Kismet interrupted not once. She sat motionlessly at the bottom of the pillar and stared into the sizzling creek. When his torrent of words had at last abated, piercing silence fell over the large cave.
The flier trembled with agitation, and then pulled his wings tighter around himself in a wave of shame. Shame for being so careless, for revealing all this he had never meant to reveal, and frightened as his mind reeled with all possible reactions, consequences, all this rat who was essentially a stranger could do with this information. He had just gotten himself to open his mouth and break the silence once more but she beat him to it –
"... Seriously, when the hell have I ever consented to be your relationship counselor?"
"I'm... sorry", he muttered, yet to his surprise, she laughed. "I am joking. A less than ideal coping mechanism when faced with an emotionally loaded atmosphere, that much I will admit."
His mouth opened, yet she beat him to speaking again – "As... tragic as all this is, it is hard to not laugh at the irony it holds."
For the first time, her head turned to look up at him and she squinted, "With how much of an insensitive jerk Henry can be sometimes, there is still one huge miscalculation on your part, in all of this. I know very well the destructive power of preemptively jumping to conclusions, something I am also more frequently guilty of than I would like to admit."
"Preemptively...", he frowned and attempted to slow his frantically hammering heart, "when have I –"
"Excuse me?", she leaped to her hinds, "But who or what has ever confirmed Henry has never cared about you?"
He stared at her for a heartbeat, then his standing-agape mouth shut. "I... I have told you what he has –", but Kismet interrupted him with a frustrated groan. "He is a seventeen-year-old kid who is attempting to adjust to an entirely new way of living after becoming an outcast whilst also trying to cope with losing an eye and all the consequences that entails. OF COURSE, he will be an insensitive jerk, of course, he will make demands and jump to conclusions. Have you ever considered... you know, hitting him over the head and REMINDING HIM to be more considerate?!"
The flier blinked down at her, then winced as a piece of rock broke from where he clutched the edge of the pillar and hit the ground. "He is...", suddenly, Hamnet's words flashed in his mind – At least you must talk to him! Maybe you're in the wrong. Maybe you're in the wrong... Maybe...
"Then again", Kismet disrupted his reeling thoughts, "as apparent as this misunderstanding is, there might be something else you misunderstood."
He looked back at her and she sighed. "You ask yourself over and over whether Henry is worth the trouble he makes, yet I believe you have long made up your mind in that matter. Your problem lies not in being unable to decide whether he is worth it, but in feeling like you're not worth it... which is so much harder to fix."
His gaze remained on her for a few moments, then lowered to the ground.
"Listen", she sighed and half-turned from him, "I know very well how hard it can be to believe our loved ones truly care... could care for us, but you do not have to believe me." She raised her paw to unclasp a large pocket on the belt she wore, "You can believe him."
He could not count how many times he had seen the sleeping face of the boy, and each time he had looked so peaceful. So much more like a child than when he was awake, wearing that trademark grin, dragging him into whatever next adventure he had convinced himself he had to undertake.
He looked not peaceful now.
The flier had to forcefully silence the lines that replayed in his head, the image of the scattered, torn papers Kismet had dropped before him, adorned with smudged, faint words. Words written by Henry as he thought he had known him. Snarky, sarcastic, whiny, yet also drenched in so much hope and enthusiasm, in so much... life, as he always seemed to ooze.
I've not told him yet. I mean, he's not moved his lazy ass here in forever, so I couldn't. Ha, now I can do it too, you know? SEE WITHOUT MY EYES. This threshold-thing is overpowered, honestly. But I did it! Death, I did it! The flier's jaw clenched. I did what you wanted me to! I went and I SLEW that threshold, BEGONE, ROCK BOTTOM! His talons dug deeper into the stone, so much they began to hurt. Are you proud of me?
Of course I am... proud of you. He barely got himself to think it. Yet as much as he tried, he could not ban the image of the violently ripped pages, of the barely legible, densely scratched out words, smudged with wear, even with blood, from his mind.
He could not look away from the face of the boy, only sparsely illuminated by the bubbling hot spring to his right, though as soon as he twitched in his painkiller-induced sleep, the flier instantly retreated. He could not bear to see him look at him like he had before, not with... don't hurt me.
A shiver ran through his body. I will not, he adamantly told himself. I will not. Not ever again. All thoughts of how it was too late now, for such a promise, he banned from his mind. He was here... his bond. He was in pain, because of him. He forced his talon into the floor. The talon that had...
"Y... you..."
His head shot up as a weak voice suddenly sounded from where the boy lied and his back pressed into the wall. I will not hurt you, he assured in his head, again and again, I will not...
"Is it... y... you", he coughed weakly and the flier sat still as stone when the boy carefully rolled over to stare at him with a misted eye. "You..."
Yet before he could open his mouth and assure him he would not harm a hair on his body, all words escaped him as a wide and genuine smile spread on the boy's face. "You... came back...!"
All he could do was sit and stare, wide-eyed, at the boy. The boy... his bond. His bond he had nearly killed, his bond who –
"You...", his smile faded and he frowned, then stretched a hand in the flier's direction. His heart sank at once and he thought he would do anything for that smile to return.
"Are you... really here?" The flier blinked in surprise, and the boy released a shaky breath, "You... you're not really here, are you? You're not here", his extended hand clenched. "You're not here, you're never here, you're... you're..."
"Henry!" A shocked jolt ran through the boy's body and his eye darted open. "Henry... I am here."
He watched the boy's face, the face he had once known and loved as much as that of any blood relative. The face that was much too gaunt, too sunken, unshaved, with heavy eyes and stained, much too long hair falling in clumped strands. Now his brow furrowed, his eye squinted, and then it at last returned... a faint but notable glimmer of hope, of such familiar, once so inspiring, uplifting hope. "D... Death...?"
"I am here", he carefully moved from the wall, at the boy, yet froze at once when the hint of a smile that had returned to his features faded. "You... you... killed me."
"How is he today?" The flier impatiently caught Kismet before she could ascend up the cliff to her cave. "Is he..."
"He is somewhat better", she sighed. "Can sit up and eat properly now, or so he claims. He will not feel any better in a while though. Barely a week has passed, and an injury such as this can take months to fully heal."
The flier agitatedly dragged his claw over the floor. "He has not... mentioned me, has he?"
She shook her head. "Give him time. He knows you are here, and when he is ready he will ask for you. I am certain. You must only not give up on him now. As he had not given up on you."
The flier swallowed and averted his gaze. It was nigh-unbearable to know the boy was here, and in pain, in need of comfort. The boy he had wrongly accused of not caring for him, who...
"I am... somewhat worried, to be honest."
"Worried?" He gazed at the scarred rat, then glanced around. What could she possibly –
"They have been very adamant to kill him, and you as well, back in that arena. If I am being honest, every time I wake up since then I expect this place to be swarming with rats in search of you."
The flier frowned. "You... you think they would..." Then Longclaw's face, distorted with anger, as he had ordered his capture, flashed in his mind and he shook his head. "Perhaps I should take to flying patrol rounds, otherwise we are essentially sitting crawlers here."
"That is what I meant to suggest. With how Henry is out of commission, you and I can only take so many of them if surprised."
He nodded and spread his wings, then shut them again to drop what he had been clutching in his claw. "I have found it, by the way. You should take it back to him." Kismet looked at the smudged and tattered yet recognizable shape of the dagger. "I have... I can hardly believe he would...", the flier shuddered, "this thing... he treasured it so much once, and now you mean to tell me he truly..."
With a flicker of her tail, she picked it up. "He... will be happy to have it back, I think. Now he will." Her smile was melancholy.
"You... you are incredible, you know that?"
Kismet froze in her tracks. "Excuse me?"
"I doubt he has ever told you but what you do here for him is much more than anyone could ever ask for, much more than –"
"Well, I can hardly kick him out for getting stabbed, can I?"
"You...", he sighed, "thank you."
She once more froze, then turned back to him. "It is... well, I would say it is no problem but...", she leaned on the steep wall that led up to her cave and her jaw clenched, "it is a problem. Not... not harboring him or teaching him or standing him when he is as he normally is, but..." The flier thought she tried hard to suppress her own trembling.
"Have you any idea what he has gone through, these last four months?!"
He winced back at the sharpness in her tone.
"Have... have you...", she swallowed, visibly searching for words, "you must know how he is. When he first came here, oh, I... I was but a shadow, barely able to keep myself alive, and then... there is this... BOY. This boy who stands before me suddenly, demanding I teach him. Without as much as a warning he barges into my existence, and I did not want any of it at first, but then he... has this about him, this energy, this enthusiasm, this..."
"... life", the flier mumbled and she nodded. "It is like he is this limitless source of life, with the ability to attach to those who have lost theirs and inject it back into them."
The flier shook his head. "I am... another most fortunate victim, I believe. Only I have not exactly shown my gratitude as you have."
"Oh, I am certain you have shown your gratitude more than enough. But my point is...", she swallowed and when she next spoke, her voice was loaded with so much grief he could barely stand it, "have you any idea how it was like, to find this... this... what I believed to be a bottomless container of life... shattered?"
The flier sat still as stone.
"It was like he...", Kismet scraped her claw on the floor, and had he not known better, he would have thought she was holding back tears. "It was like he had... shattered, somewhere on the inside. And all that life, which I believed to be so endless, so inspiring, so enlivening... it was spilling out right in front of me, and as much as I tried – and I TRIED", she cried, "I tried, but I could not... not stop it. So it all... ran out." Her gaze darted at Mys in her grasp. "So much so he thought himself unworthy of his most prized possession."
She looked back up at him and the flier shuddered from the grief in her eye. "It is one thing to become an empty shell yourself. Yet to watch who you believed to be the embodiment of life itself suffer the same fate...", she at last turned from him, "that is very much... a problem."
"Kismet... can you tell me how I show someone I care about them?"
The flier's gaze darted up from where he had curled up in a corner and met the gaunt figure standing in the tunnel that led up to the hot spring.
"He – HENRY you are NOT SUPPOSED TO BE UP!" Kismet darted up and past him, to support the boy as his legs faltered.
"I... I'm fine", he mumbled, "I really am, it barely hurts anymore, but I want to know –"
"Oh no, no, no that's not how this works pup", she relentlessly shoved him back up the tunnel to where she had set up his bed, "you will have to remain still for at least another two to three weeks. Preferably more."
"But it's already BEEN two weeks... right? I'm not too sure, but however long it was it's too long, I can't stay in bed for another –"
"Ohh you will, even if I have to shackle you down, I will do so without hesitation."
"But I can walk!" He ripped his arm out of Kismet's grip and winced, then stumbled forward. "I can! I... I want to do something –"
"Pup, if you do not lie down this instant I will really shackle you down. We can play a game of chess if you feel well enough later. But only if you go and lie DOWN now."
The flier realized he was pressing into the wall and consciously relaxed as soon as the two had disappeared out of sight. Had the boy not seen him? Perhaps he hadn't, then again, he could see without light now. He could...
"How did you ever keep him in check after he lost his eye?" Kismet strolled back into the cave. "It is like he WANTS for it to get worse."
"I couldn't, not after he thought he was well enough."
The rat sighed and rummaged through a pile of things that lied in a corner. "I too am slowly but surely running out of options."
The flier carefully rose and stretched his wings. "Perhaps I should go out for patrol now. Those three rats I saw by the lake yesterday, I want to check if they have moved on, and if so, where to."
Kismet nodded and the flier had already leaped at the cliff when he suddenly heard an awful low rumble. In the same heartbeat, Kismet's ears twitched and she dropped the chessboard she had fetched. Then the earth around them began to quake.
The flier barely registered the landslide of rocks that had broken off above the cave entrance, he instinctively darted forward. Moments later his ears rang with a permeating crash and he narrowly dodged a second wave of rubble that began to rain from the ceiling. A swell of panic engulfed him the cave might collapse altogether and he darted at the floor. He had to take cover somewhere, somewhere that was –
"Dammit, why NOW? I thought I had – AGH!"
The flier winced and automatically gained altitude as he heard the unmistakable screech of a rat, then a second one. He registered their shapes in the entrance to the cave that eventually led to the lake and shrieked in pain as he collided with the opposing wall.
"THERE!"
It was all over. Lights sparked before his eyes and he reeled back, sensing a sharp sting where a falling rock struck his back. The ancient stone around them sounded a bone-rattling rumble as it quaked again, and moments later he crashed into the floor.
He had to get up, the flier shook his head and attempted to chase the daze, he had to... In the next moment, a falling stone landed on his wing and forcefully disrupted his attempt at lifting off.
"GET HIM!"
He desperately struggled to wriggle free from the rock. Where were... Kismet and... Henry? From his mouth came a deafening scream beyond any audible frequency yet as his gaze met the spot where the entrance to Kismet's cave had lied an icy tidal wave crushed the last of his spirits. The landslide, he released another scream, it had... it had... "HENRY!"
His body gave way and he seized struggling at last, beneath him the rock gave a final faint quiver, then it abated and the world stood still once more. Not his world. His eyes shut and he saw only the buried cave entrance before his inner eye, even as he heard the approaching sounds of rats. It had collapsed, it must have. It had...
His ears twitched and his head darted up as the unmistakable pained shriek of a rat sounded mere inches before him. He stared up at the grey figure and watched him sink to the floor, claws still stretched in his direction.
With the last of his strength, he twisted to escape the bared teeth of the second one. He twirled around when his claws scraped the stone where the flier's head had been, moments ago, then he too gave a pained shriek.
Yet instead of going down, he tore his jaws open to attack what had struck him. Like in a trance, the flier took in the shape of Henry behind him, slingshot in one, Mys in the other hand. His stance was frozen in shock, his foot raised to stumble back. But not fast enough.
The next thing the flier registered was a jolt of pain where he violently ripped his wing out from under the rock. Then his impact with the gnawer that sent them both flying several feet. And Henry's scream.
The rat let out a furious cry as they impacted the floor together. Somewhere at the back of his consciousness, the flier knew he should move yet he had no strength left. Something sharp and burning tore his shoulder yet he could not scream. Then the gnawer on top of him lied still.
It took the flier a couple heartbeats to register his face. From him came a gurgling whimper and his eyes rolled down to unbelievingly stare at the dagger that stuck out of his throat, then he moved not at all anymore.
The flier barely had the strength to wriggle out from under the rat's corpse and his gaze met Henry's haggard shape. His shirt was soaked in blood, dried and fresh, and he heavily panted, staring down at the body of the rat he had just killed.
The flier's mouth opened yet before he could speak he heard another deafening rumble. For a moment he thought this was an aftershock, then he saw the rocks were raining from the previously buried entrance to Kismet's cave. The gnawer darted out at once and down the cliff, then took a flying leap over the flier's head.
A pained squeak sounded from where the rats had come from, only when she turned back to them, standing over another lifeless body the flier remembered it had been three.
His gaze darted back at Henry and he struggled to rise when the boy staggered forward, but he could still not entirely shake the corpse. "Y... you..."
It was Kismet who caught him instead. "What the hell do you even think you are doing?!", she hissed and the boy angrily ripped his arm out of her grip. "They would have killed him!" His large, sunken eye was on the flier. "You...", he staggered forward another step and for a moment his hand winced up. "You could have died. You could have... you almost died." Something in the boy's gaze sent a shiver down his spine. "For... me?"
For the first time, the flier properly raised his gaze to look directly at him. "I would die a thousand deaths to save you."