Tobias had been following Slade for some time, and he was starting to wonder if the other would ever slow down.

Slade! Tobias called. Where are you going?

I was called. I come of my own free will, was all the answer Tobias received. Something about that statement rang false, though, so Tobias continued to follow Slade's path through the forest.

Catching a strong breeze, Tobias managed to get a look at Slade's face. His eyes were glowing like a pair of green headlights and Tobias had the feeling that this wasn't normal, even for someone like Slade.

Slade, stop! I think there's something wrong with you.

Slade ignored him, running through a bramble bush without seeming to care about the sharp thorns that tore at his exposed legs.

Slade, where are you going? Tobias called again. Nothing but mental silence was his answer.

Deciding that trying to talk Slade out of whatever he was doing would get him nowhere, Tobias landed and started morphing into a Hork-Bajir. They were strong, and faster than they at first looked, the ideal morph to keep up with the seemingly possessed Slade. Once Tobias was fully morphed, he started running, following the sounds of foliage being kicked aside and trying to make up for lost time.

After about ten minutes the sounds started to get louder, so Tobias knew he was getting closer. Abruptly the sound of running stopped, and Tobias peered through a stand of young trees that separated him from Slade. Slade was just standing in a clearing, it was as if he was waiting for someone.

Why am I still here? Slade asked, having been ordered to stop some time ago by his master.

Wait a moment, little one, things will become clear in a very short time.

Sure enough, out of the stand of trees came a creature that Slade didn't recognize in the slightest.

I've seen one of those before! His master's voice seemed to be both annoyed and amused by this new development. Slade wondered about that, that and something else, as well.

You have? he asked. Where?

That is not your concern, little one. All you need to know is this: he is your enemy. Kill him.

With a deft flick of his wrists, Slade did something he'd never done before in all his short existence: he called the lancer that had been made for him when he became a Teknoman out of its resting place in subspace. The shafts of light from the full moon glittered off the razor-sharp edges of the bright silver lancer.

The halves were both just over the length of his outstretched arms, united they would have cleared the top of Slade's head.

Slade, what are you doing out here? asked a weak telepathic voice that Slade was sure he'd never heard before. Come with me, I'll take you back to the barn.

The newcomer sounded distinctly breathless, and more than a little concerned for him. Slade wondered briefly why that was, and then smirked coldly when he realized he didn't care. Might as well show this freak just how big of a mistake he's making.