Knuckles assumed the Marble Garden would cause some shock – a frightened gasp when she saw her proud city standing uninhabited, and with vines and weeds nestling into the buildings like cobwebs. But she did not cry or run or even point out a familiar house; rather, the strong ruins were something of amazement to the girl. Her peachy jaw dropped and made a sort of awestruck cooing while they walked, her head craned up, stretching to see the rooftops. She ran up to the ancient pillars and traced her little hands through the cracks and linings as though she lacked sight, not speech, and wished to absorb all her surroundings through the caress of her palms. Every building they passed presented a delightful new wonder, and she would race away from his side to examine every last stone.
The little angel seemed to have not the slightest appreciation that the ruins were rigged with traps. Merrily she ran across a trip-cord that dropped a spike-tipped pillar from an overhang. Knuckles only just dived in time to knock her away before the weight slammed into the ground. He kept his paw tethered around her tiny wrist after that.
When her belly began to growl – and she began to giggle at the rumbling noises – he took her to a towering termite colony for food. Thankfully she had no objections to their dining – hedgehogs, he'd learned, had not the all-embracing palette required to live in the wilderness, but she accepted the wriggly insects he scooped out from a hole. Knuckles tried to show her how to reach in and take food for herself, but her hands were clumsy and she would take pause to examine the crawling creatures as they squirmed along her arm and fell between her open fingers. The guardian wanted to scream at her for being so stupid and wasting food but her whimpering emerald eyes held his anger to growls.
He took her underground, into one of the archives, and showed her a map of the island painted into the wall, explaining what it meant. He pointed to the city, "Here," and traced his way to the pond in the rainforest. "Here. You: Where before?"
She squinted at the illustration. Carefully, she raised her glass-like paw and touched the blue space of the pond. "Pool," Knuckles explained. She zigzagged up to the next point. "City. Now backwards." She retraced her markings, sliding back to the blue puddle.
Her hand jumped and mashed on the opposite side of the island. She smiled proudly, and waited for his inspection. "The Red Mountains," Knuckles noted. Her eyes lifted hopefully.
Knuckles snorted. "This was a waste." This precious little thing could not have survived five minutes in a zone of hot lava and active volcanoes. "It's just a picture to you." He grabbed her hand and took her further, to some writing tables.
Knuckles took one of the pens Ivo had so kindly donated in lieu of trinkets and beads and wrote his name in Echidna runes on a pad of paper bearing the doctor's logo. He pointed to the symbols. "Knuckles," he explained, gesturing to himself and then the paper to demonstrate they represented one and the same. He gave her the writing instrument, positioned it in her hand and told her, "Your name."
She became so focused that her face trembled. She pressed the pen down as he'd shown and drew the markings. The first sound was a K. Kay … he tried to guess the rest: Kira, Kanna? Next came N. Enn… K-N; he hoped the name was pronounceable. Then she drew a figure which he distinguished as a shaky U. Yoo. K-N-U…
He tore the paper away as soon as he recognized the C. He ripped her copying to dust and he whipped the pen from her hand, flinging into a corner. "Is this a game to you?" he raged. "Do you enjoy this, this… do you like mocking me?" She retreated at his snarling approach. "You can't talk, you can't write – you don't even have a name! I should throw you off the island, you weak, useless…" Her eyes would not let him continue. They were filled with fear.
Knuckles swiped his fist. Her body screamed. He hammered away until the wooden corner of the desk smashed to the floor. Rage seethed through his nostrils. He pointed his claws at her. "Don't follow me. Don't ever let me see you again." His dreadlocks whipped as he stormed out of the room.
Outside he screamed at the wind and pummeled his fists into the dirt, raking away the ground. Alone. Born alone and this was the one mercy he was granted: a stupid mute. A hedgehog to torment him, a friend who betrayed him, and now this helpless fool! By The Controller, he hated this place and this life! Hunger and darkness – nothing but hunger and darkness! "It's not fair!" He screamed, wishing the Emerald might hear him.
"You are nothing but a burden!" he seethed through his wet eyes.
The Master Emerald could detect an imbalance of outsiders, but also the instability of those familiar. And now, Knuckles could hear The Controller around him, caught in a gray song of heartache. The Emerald shattered in distress thanks to all the rage he had channeled. Attacked by its protector.
The very power he had pledged his life to – and he was the one to pain it so. Knuckles fell to the ground with shards of glass crashing in his ears. Once again it all came to failure…
Then he raised his head up at the metropolis of stone and vines. He saw it stand, he saw it carry on and knew he had to do the same. The Echidna stood against the load pressing him down and forced a grim walk. To weather all obstacles. To stand against all. To endure.
Such was the life of a Guardian. So be it. He would not cry or fall to pieces – he would take whatever came, and he would make it work for him. The misshapen, the ugly; the incomprehensible – he would fit them together in some patchwork of harmony. It was all he could to.
The archive doors creaked open and the penitent Guardian stepped inside. Hearing the faint sob, and the resonating drop of The Controller made his fur itch. Whether from the musty books or his soiled skin, he did not know, but there was a rank stench of something filthy. He approached her huddled body and fell to his knees.
He had spoken this only twice before and the words still stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I'm … sorry."
Thrice, his heart was pierced. Though he held the power to crush her, now he did not have the strength to even look at her.
She continued to sniff, but her emerald eyes looked up at him.
"I wanted too much." Tainted: the final generation, obliged to rise above all desire, to be a protector and a guardian; to reveal this sin crushed him all the worse. No better than his fathers, than Pachacamac.
"I didn't expect … you. I grew angry – I … wanted more from you. Answers. Help." Knuckles shuddered.
His voice shrank to a whisper. "Please, I… I don't want to be alone. If you never speak, you'll still be more to me than I've ever had."
She looked up. Her paw reached out, and touched his own. A smile was returning to her eyes. Knuckles took her palm and wrapped it in his mighty fist. Her remaining palm clasped over this.
Together, they stood. "Come on," Knuckles smiled. "You need some shoes."
The Master Emerald resonated peacefully. On the shores of Hydrocity Lake, the nameless girl giggled and chased butterflies down the grassy bank while Knuckles watched her from the shade of a tree. They had taken the teleporter system to Ivo's old launch base to forage through old robot carcasses for materials. The shock of having one's molecules broken and reassembled had left her dizzy and sick, so the journey to this deep basin took place on foot (and more than half the trip, it was by his foot). At least on the lakeshore there dwelled no rocks or roots to harm her, and she could have her fill of running and exploring while he wove sandals from strips of tree bark, wiring and the rubber of old tires.
The flurry of activity came in timely interruptions and bade his eyes follow: He gazed at the glad spirit chasing squirrels through the grass with cheerful abandon. He watched the giddy nymph flop to the ground and bathe in the golden sun. He heard her utter an exclamation of joy when she spied some wild flowers. He observed her drop to hands and knees and shuffle cautiously for the sunny blossom – so careful not to disturb one leaf – and with all matter of delicacy, she reached her nose to the yellow buttercup and sniffed gently. She bounded upright with a squeal and fell over in a happy daze as the heady scents tickled her nose.
He envied her, so relaxed and without worry.
Knuckles set his work aside and returned to the mystery of her name. At some point the child had to grow beyond Her or You. Could he assign her some identity, at least in his mind, until the day came that she could communicate her true self?
What name would he give her? Immediately, he his mind leapt to Tikal, but he quietly smiled that choice away. Though she dressed as a princess should, he beheld no leader of Echidna. She did not have that strength of belief, that commitment to ideals or the silent maturity that had raised Tikal above even the males of great strength. She was not Tikal.
Knuckles realized how very few female names he knew, and how he had met even fewer members of this opposite sex. But he went through each one, judging their similarities and merits.
Thief. She had no other name in his mind, no other title to her credit. That was not who this child was.
Sarah. No, that girl had been a sad, miserable thing – A wraith eating away at herself until she lingered hollow and dead. This echidna was nothing if not joy.
Amy. This one made him hesitate, for he recognized a same merry laughter and careless attitude. To her bonus, they were both pink. But Amy was ignorant – this girl drank in everything around her.
Were those all he knew? He thought hard, searching his memories for another female of name. His fanged mouth suddenly cracked into a grin.
Sonic.
When his howling laughter heaved its last teary excess over the lakeshore and a final sigh grounded his mind, he understood that none of these names would suit her. He could not fit her into the frame of another; he could not judge her as someone else – this girl was just herself.
She was innocence – newborn purity and innocence. She was unsullied and her mind was fresh. She would not last long alone – his yelling alone proved enough to make her crumple – so vulnerable and fragile. This morning she had been stupid and ignorant, but now he saw that so much excitement and life teemed in her mind. She feared nothing – everything was to be tasted and touched; nothing was out of reach. Her every waking moment filled with unbridled joy at the life around her. Only when she waded too far and saw that the way home was lost did she begin to worry.
And at this moment, she once more traveled beyond her limits. The cool waters had found her attention, and she was striding through the lake with her skirt bubbling to the water's surface. She bounced in past her knees, past her hips, past her head. A sinkhole pulled her under. Knuckles bolted into action.
A minute later, he surfaced with her gasping head. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders and tried to climb higher, immersing him in the process. Knuckles ducked under, let her drop and repositioned, looping his arm through her elbows and dragging her back to shore.
He laid her on the lakeside meadow and waited until she coughed out all the water to scold her. "You can't just go run out as far as you like!" he barked. "The water grows deeper, and you can't swim. Hey, look at me!" He raised her chin to his gaze. "You be careful, and you stay close to the shore, you got that? This is the shore," he tamped the grass with his foot, "and you keep close. Understand?"
Her fingers ran through the greens while her eyes noted the differences of water. She nodded, downcast.
With a grim sigh, Knuckles bent over to smooth the bangs out of her face. "Soon the sun will set. You had better run around and dry off before it gets cold."
She scampered off obediently, stumbling over her heavy skirt. Knuckles walked back to his shady spot where he could watch her.
Not ignorant, just unaware. And such blissful purity was not permanent: the more she saw, the more she would gather for herself and grow. Knuckles immersed himself in memories: a fruitless search, walking the roads of Station Square and dodging the morning traffic. What revelation he had experienced, what safety he had enjoyed, when he finally looked to the side of the paved roadways and discovered he could walk unmolested by vehicles on the sidewalk!
He returned to the task of his needlework. This girl had so much to learn…
Electronic binoculars with a zooming magnification function brought the couple into perfect detailed view. The figure spied on their conversation, reading what speech was comprehensible on their lips, and crawled away from the cliff face when they separated.
To the side, a rushing waterfall plunged from this highest shelf, feeding the lake below. At the moment, it served as a riverside camp, with fancy surveillance technology scattered around the ledge. But now came the time to pack up and depart. By some funny luck, the figure had gone unnoticed all day – last time the echidna had pounced almost immediately. The secret observer decided not to push this gift any further. It had taken months to find the island once more, and it would be foolish to ruin the opportunity by rushing things. Stealth and observation were crucial.
A camouflaged ship waited in a swamp of overgrown mushrooms, but before the figure set out for this base camp, she stopped and gave a final glance at the echidnas. Some might have witnessed a touching display of care. Some might have seen the warmth of a parent. Rouge the Bat saw only one thing as Knuckles spoke to the unfamiliar girl: Leverage.
By The Controller, this girl was fragile! Knuckles sprinted across the lakeside with his sewing in hand, following her squeaks and calls.
Her dress had become caught in a tangle of brambles. Already, the skirt bore slashes from the thorns, and in further spots it was hooked into the branches. She tugged at her clothing, crying because her efforts were hopeless and because she only tore her skirt further. The child looked at him pleadingly.
The veins in Knuckles' head throbbed. He growled. "Can't you stay safe without me just a minute?" He bent down and looked over the mess. "Here, be still … Stop it! Stop pulling, you're only making it worse!" She only kept crying, as though a piece of herself were being torn.
Knuckles threw her hands off the fabric and warned her to stay put. Then he removed his gloves and put his two fingers to the delicate work of plucking the dress off the peg-board of thorns. The fabric surprised him – it felt rough despite its royal appearance. While he worked, he took the hem of her dress to close inspection and found it sewn of tiny green beads, like little droplets of crystal.
The last hole came unbuttoned. Down she dropped to the ground, clutching her tattered skirt in a terrible shock. Knuckles only scrunched his face up. Such a thin, flimsy thing – with all the running and exploring she did, this was bound to happen. He could stitch it up, but it would not retain its perfect cut.
"It's wrecked," he shrugged. Why did she always fall to pieces like this? She whimpered at him and he cringed and rolled his eyes, wishing very much that she could rise above this. "I can fix it," he said yieldingly, "but later. … Come: stand up. I can at least get all the dirt off."
She stood and he brushed the brown soot off her rags. He gestured and told her to turn around, and he repeated, wiping his hand to pick off the excess dirt. Should he risk sending her to the lake to wash off? He spun her around once more.
The dress was restored. Knuckles jerked his head back. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it close to his eye. Perfect – as if that tapestry of beads had hooked itself back together. He looked up at her face incredulously, but she only gave him one of her excited smiles. She pulled away and twirled for herself, letting her skirt funnel in the air.
"How did that happen!?" Knuckles demanded. And why did he still expect answers from her? There was only the excited twinkling of the Controller to respond.
Eventually her celebrations dimmed and he was able to call her back to business. "These had better fit," Knuckles muttered quietly as he slipped the sandal over her bare foot. The sole was black rubber and a thong weaved its way around her toes and up her shin. He'd wove the rope soft to the best of his skills, and the only trouble seemed to be the overcompensating twine that spun far too high around her thin leg. He snapped it down to length.
The girl stood up and wiggled her toes, testing the strange new material on her skin. At his insistence, she took some explorative steps. It pleased Knuckles to see the sandals fitting so well.
The child thought otherwise. Her paws dived to her legs and scratched the rope furiously. She raised a foot and seized the black sole in her hands, trying to pull the shoe off, but her attempts were just as hopeless as the brambles. She fell over with a squeak.
"Stop it," Knuckles ordered. "You have to wear those!" The girl squirmed and itched her legs as though the ropes were chains binding up her limbs. With a pleading whimper over her face she looked to him for release. He returned with his darkest scowl. He had worked long on those sandals and he would not just throw off this necessity over her discomfort.
"No," he said coldly. "Get up and start walking."
In the end he had to drag her to their next destination, a fruit grove, to replenish on water and food. He tried teaching her how to peel the fruit but she was moody and distracted by her chaffing sandals. Oh, but she took the food he gave – she gobbled it all down, that walking stomach.
The Master Emerald, it seemed, had taken some special liking to this girl, judging by the way her mood resonated in The Controller's melody. Glum and pained came the song, prickling Knuckles' senses. He still detected that blot of energy, and he wondered how The Emerald reacted so strongly to this girl, this anomaly, without accepting her into its grasp.
But presently, there remained physical necessities to concern with. The sun was descending below the Island of Angels, heating the mountains to a red glow and filling the sky with gold. He wanted to put the girl away somewhere safe before darkness – she would only be dead weight on his night patrols. So they walked higher through the forest overgrowth and towards the sheer cliffs that fed Hydrocity.
The waterfalls had carved many caverns into the solid stone, and he scaled these rock walls to reach a high and deep tunnel in which to deposit his companion for the evening. Knuckles, of course, was the one to do the work. The thin girl wrapped her petite arms around his neck and hugged her body close as he dug handholds with his fists and took them higher and higher above the forest floor. Her clinging grip impressed a good pain into his windpipe, but once more, he felt stronger – lighter perhaps – while she embraced him.
But at last his paws hooked over the desired ledge and he hoisted their two bodies onto the overhang, where he could finally take in a full gulp of air again. Knuckles clapped the dirt from his gloves and sat down for a rest. The girl scooted over to join him and mimicked his pose, knees dangling over the edge and body propped back on her hands. She looked in awe at the shower of water blasting the rocky lake and the jungle that stretched out below.
"It's a good spot to watch someone from," he told her.
Knuckles pointed down and to the right. "See that bridge?"
He suddenly thought better of it, and seized her neck before she could lean over any more. "Never mind. But there is a bridge on a lower level. Everyone who comes to the island always uses it. And all I have to do is press a switch and it collapses." He held out his paw flat and dropped his fingers like a hinge. "Drowned rats," he declared proudly.
She followed his story with the mixed look that was either attentive or blank. After a pause she began to scratch again.
"Fine!" he grunted, and tugged the strings open and pulled her feet free. He flung the sandals into the back of the cavern.
Knuckles sighed wearily, and thought over his wasted day where so much had been disrupted by this girl: not a single patrol made since early morning, the traps in Sandopolis had gone unchecked, that mountain teleporter still required repairs and he had not copied a single rune from the withering libraries. His one accomplishment was sewing rope through strips of rubber and giving a rash to this newcomer. What a waste.
Would he spend the rest of his days rescuing this helpless fool from brambles and traps? There was a thought to loose sleep over!
They sat together, hard, stony scarlet and creamy, wide-eyed rose, and watched the gold of the sky rust, and then dim to an ocean blue while the heat of the mountains cooled to dark embers. "Come, you have to rest."
Inside the cave lay blankets – mats really, some of his better work weaving palm fronds into a mesh. He swept the pebbles out of a long, flat space and wrapped her in the leafy coverings. The ferns must have been rougher than the sandals, but she did not protest – her eyes were so heavy.
"You stay here, understand? If you get up, you'll fall off the cliff." The little sprite bobbed her tired head and stretched in a deep yawn. Knuckles saw that further instructions would pass right over her, so he made sure she would stay warm, tucking her blankets under her tired feet.
She did not close her eyes just yet – those drowsy little orbs followed him in his last preparations, and when he leaned over to tuck her covers above her shoulders, she raised her head and gave his cheek a quick kiss.
Knuckles bolted up and scrambled away. In the dimming light his eyes were two round saucers staring incredulously at the girl. Her eyes closed and a warm smile persisted as she dozed away.
The Guardian shuffled back, shocked at this breach of distance, angered by her disregard for space; outright offended that she just go up and touch his face, as though she presumed some authority over him! That she supposed she had every right and will to do so!
He slumped against the cave, burning over the touch – the trespass – the crowning insult to his lost day. He looked at her sleeping beauty. She would enjoy that sleep, but at whose expense? He knew what she was – She was a parasite: feeding off his strength and energy while she remained stupid and simple! By the Controller!
He simmered and sizzled and eventually settled into a compromise. The Emerald stood undefiled; the island still flew above the dark oceans. The day had not been the routine and order he considered as success, but perhaps today had been productive.
Once more his eyes addressed this painful new companion – head snuggled in the crook of an arm, her knees huddled up and that smile of perfect contentment plastered over her face – and his frustration melted away. Even when closed, those innocent eyes were wonderful. To see her safe and at peace carried an appeal so filling. Fulfilling.
He sat back with a smile on his mind. Yes, today had been a good day…
Knuckles suddenly froze. What if she did wake up, and stumbled out the entrance? What if something came in – a nocturnal lizard or snake that crawled up to the warmth of her body – and struck when she woke and touched the feral animal? What if the cave should crumble this very night, and bury her in an eternal sleep?
He suddenly lost all desire to make a nightly patrol. He stormed over to the entrance and sat himself down with his arms across his chest and his eyes staring zealously into the night. He always slept sparingly – for him, this was still the middle of his day – and today, he would plant himself and not budge till sunrise.
Here laid everything he needed to guard.
The stars surfaced from the darkness, and the Master Emerald twinkled restfully with their light.