After a time, it felt that it was safe to leave the shadows and slither back into Jak's mind. Its arm still hurt, but by now it was only a constant throbbing to distract it from everything it wanted to focus on. Thankfully it allowed it to continue to focus on the not-black, who had caused this throbbing. With every pulse, every twitch in its burned and blackened purple-pale arm, it saw the not-black and the not-black's flat, blank gaze. If that had been a gaze.
It was angry, angrier than it had ever been before. The not-black hurt it, and the not-black had to suffer. Hopefully the not-black would die.
Tripping over its own feet, it began to hop-skip in the direction it remembered finding the not-black in. Its senses felt dull and useless now, thanks to the not-black's injury, so it couldn't smell out the not-black. Everything was focused on the burning hurt. There was nothing left to find the not-black except gouged memory and bleeding shadows.
Eternities passed. There was no not-black.
It searched some more. There was no not-black.
Where it was so sure the not-black had been, it stood.
There was no not-black.
In a fit of sudden fury, it screamed and punched the shadows below its feet with its injured arm. This resulted in yet another scream, although more of pain than frustration. The rage was the same. The rage was always the same.
Where was the not-black? Where was the not-black?!
It turned in circles, trying to see the not-black or at least something that looked like the not-black, but found only dark and shadows. What had once been so comforting was now bleak. It hissed.
Where was the not-black?
Silence reigned for a moment. It crouched and stared at the dark and shadows, at the endless depths of a mind he was part of, before throwing back its head and unleashing a frenzied shriek. The sound cut the thick black like lightning and lingered even after it had stopped.
It leaped from its spot and howled furiously, swinging at the shadows. If it could not find the not-black like this, then destruction would surely draw the not-black. Something as unfitting as the not-black could only be drawn in anger by the destruction of something it probably thought belonged to it. But the darkness belonged to it. All the darkness was its.
And suddenly the not-black was there.
It swung around and saw the not-black: a paper cutout, so flat and blank against the shadows. It stalled as the feelings of tranquility, serenity, and curiosity caressed its skin. Perhaps it could stop its violence for a moment to…think?
No.
NEED MORE RAGE
NEED. MORE. RAGE.
It screeched and lunged, completely forgetting about the wound that blazed along its arm. Long black claws aimed for the not-black's face. Blood would spurt out from under them when they hit and coat them both; then it would pull out its claws and more blood would dribble down the not-black's face. After that it would repeat the process, over and over and over again, slashing and cutting and gouging and stabbing to its heart's content. Then there would be nothing left of the not-black. Just a big throbbing mass covered in red blood. Or maybe the blood would be black. It knew its blood was black. Perhaps the not-black's would be, as well.
But its claws did not reach the not-black. It stared at a blank nothingness of darkness. The not-black had gone.
Where?
Something touched the wound on its arm. It looked over and found itself face-to-face with the not-black.
The not-black that was holding his arm.
With a ferocious shriek, it tried to jet itself away, but the not-black held on. It screamed and clawed violently. Surely its arm would burn and hurt and get it OFF.
But there was no burning, no hurting. In fact, the hurting from its wound started to fade. It stared at the wound, and at the not-black.
The not-black was healing its wound.
'Healing' was a word it had learned from watching Jak's life. It meant a stop to hurt. Sometimes it was nice. Right now it was not.
The not-black let go, and it stared at its arm. Pale and purple and absolutely unmarked.
That wasn't right.
Neither was the funny feeling in its chest.
NEED MORE RAGE
The not-black gave it that same look, that same flat, blank look. It opened its mouth and hissed a warning.
They stood facing each other, both refusing to move.