Fleeting Moments

Ch. 9

Brave New Face

"You ready?" Pezmal asked, a broad smile played across his lips as he gathered his stirrups and reened his horse. Star had gathered her own ride, a steed with brutal scars across its face and back, but loving and loyal all the same. When she'd gotten him under control enough to start forward, away from the Cathedral's opening, she answered, "I was ready three days ago. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can get back, so let's not waste time with chit chat, yeah?"

Pezmal gave her a confused look, kicking his horse forward to follow. "I suppose I agree, though a little comradery never hurt a mission before," he noted, keeping pace, "shall we focus on more important matters then? Would you care to discuss the plan before we arrive?"

Silence reigned for a moment as the two of them struggled to form a coherent thought. "We have like… four hours until we get there, dude," Star mumbled, her response short and impatient despite their leisurely pace, "but… fine. What do you have in mind? An ambush? Guns blazing?"

"Oh, uhm neither, I suppose. I was hoping we could act with a more careful strike," Pezmal countered, pulling his steed to trot alongside hers, Star's short response not going unnoticed, "The supply line will likely stop in a clearing to camp for the evening, so I believe we could scout from the forest before maneuvering out in stealth to dispatch the guarding troops. We can be in and out before they know what hit them, and be done… sooner, as you wish."

As if to prove a point, Pezmal waited for her to argue, before ultimately giving in to his desire to further coordinate. After all, the best plan was the one everyone knew. "Supposedly we're after some salary funds for the southern regiments, a hefty bit of coin to fuel our endeavors through the winter. It'll be guarded, surely, but we can move in silence and find where theyre keeping it from the shadows. After that, its just a quick snatch and grab before we embark on our journey home."

After a moment of silence to pace her horse a few feet away, Star nodded along, refusing to say anything of note before offering a simple, "sounds good."

Pezmal gave her another confused look, the two riding in silence for a few minutes before he broke out into a smile, gripping his reins with anticipation. "Would you fancy a race?" He asked out of nowhere, pointing towards the peak of the hills a few miles away, "first one to crest the hilltop wins? It would make good use of our time and add the benefit of-"

"I'm… good. Thanks," came his partner's short response.

She looked glum, but her eyes were anything but. They darted around the treeline, they scanned the road ahead, and every now and again they would flash to Pezmal, watching him carefully. She was mostly unreadable to him, but through the facade he could see something familiar, a behavior not unknown to those in his ranks. She was angry about something, and he had a good guess as to what. "You'd prefer that... Marco were here, yes? You're really quite fond of him, I noticed," He asked out of the blue, drawing her gaze back to him to stay, "you rely on him?"

For an uncomfortably long time, Star didn't say anything that would hint at her souring mood. She'd been uneasy and torrid since Marco had forced her off on her own, and she wasn't keen to reunite the same way they had last time she'd been alone. But Pez-dispenser, or whatever his name was, seemed genuine enough to answer to, and really he didn't deserve all of her scathing animosity anyway. "Short answer: yeah, I kinda do. Long answer: we're a team, and we rely on each other" she offered, giving no hint of a desire to explain any further.

Pezmal nodded, watching the way she tensed as she scanned the surrounding area. She was on edge, but oddly enough he was the last thing she wanted to look at. "Do you doubt that I can keep you safe on this mission?" He asked, careful not to sound jealous or childish. He knew she was used to different company, but in the current situation, they couldn't afford to dwell on better circumstances. "I know you haven't quite seen what I can do in the field, but I assure you that you can trust-"

Star reeled her horse back and brought it to a stop in front of him, her eyes giving away the buckets of impatience she wasn't keen on hoarding. She wasn't in the mood for small talk, as her straightened posture made clear. "I'm not some damsel that relies on him, or you for protection," she answered with an annoyed huff, watching him as he stood motionless, "and my trust in you isn't up for debate. He and I have been through a lot lately, so yes. I do wish he was here instead of someone I've only just met. No, I don't mean to offend you. Yes, I am in a bad mood. And no, I do not. Want to talk about it."

She hated the way she tore into him in a ramble; it wasn't fair how she had answered him, but to a degree she felt she was right. Gone were the bright eyes she wore when she'd been given that dance four days ago, and now without Marco, she felt even more vulnerable to the world that wanted to chew her up and spit her back out. She'd made the mistake of trusting the people of this world once, and that was a lesson hard learned.

"Forgive me, I too meant no offense to your skills in battle," a soft voice returned, Pezmal meeting her gaze with sincerity, "but I assure you that we are the good guys, you can trust us, when you're ready to."

Understandably, he thought she was talking about the resistance, and not the whole dimension indiscriminately. But she couldn't blame him for being ignorant to her history. Turning her horse to continue their trek, she brushed off his well-meant attempt at soothing her temper with a scoff. "I don't care who's the nice guy out here, I just wanna go home. And that means doing this stupid job well enough to get Alwen off our... off my… back. So let's hurry up and get it over with already."

Her posture, speed and movement didn't solicit, nor warrant an answer, and Pezmal was just as well to heed her unspoken warning.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

For the next three hours, Pezmal made all attempts to fully personify the phrase, safe distance. He didn't make any further advances, he didn't try to prod at her tough outer exterior, and he made sure to keep his horse two paces in front of hers, a position she seemed satisfied enough with. But as time went on, Star found her animosity less and less justified. After all, just this morning she had been itching to get out, to go on a mission, to prove to these people that she was every bit the warrior she was trained to be. The one she wanted to be.

So what happened?

As she stared at the back of Pezmal's head she found herself asking that repetitive question. Where had her excitement gone? What had changed in the span of a few hours to make her more like… 'Marco…' she thought. As the two continued through the forest towards the west, she began to toy with the idea that her mood had plummeted purely because Marco wasn't with her. Or rather, because he had, for the second time now, decided for the both of them to part ways.

She'd been angry at him earlier that morning, and she felt just as angry now. But thankfully, she did have one peice of solace from him that came with some much needed understanding of her plight. 'If anything happens, just turn into a butterfly. Come find me, and we can work something out.' Should it come to it, Marco was just around the proverbial corner, and she could… hopefully handle whatever they were up against. He knew it was a bad idea, and- "Star?"

The young, scornful woman turned an annoyed grimace his way, and Pezmal offered no sign of compliance with her attitude.

"Ready yourself, we're about half a mile from the encampment," came Pezmals voice, reeling her back in from her thoughts, "Once we cross the ridge up ahead, we'll leave the horses behind and make our way on foot to the clearing, and scout until nightfall."

Star was about to offer a half-hearted response baked with clipped sarcasm, but she abruptly came to the realization that he wasn't asking. He was telling her what they were going to do, and a far flavor from that morning, he wasn't vying for an opinion on the matter. Pezmal was looking back at her, carefully as before, but his eyes had changed over the last few hours. He was on a mission, and he wasn't going to take her attitude any further down the road.

"Okay. Lead the way, then," she answered sternly, her tone portraying enough compliance to earn a silent nod from her partner. It made her uneasy to no end, the way he'd suddenly changed into something completely different, but as the two crossed the ridge, steering from the main road and into the woods, she found a better use for her nerves.

The woods in this dimension seemed to all look the same. After primrose, heading to the Cathedral, even her memories of the first week in the wild had been altered to resemble… that night. And now was no different. She was back in the dark, holding that rabbit, watched by someone hidden just out of sight, and she was alone. Except of course, she wasn't.

"Everythings fine. Keep your head, and we won't run into anything we can't handle this far north," Pezmal offered carefully, but sternly, "I've seen the way you carry yourself, and how you watch the world around you like you expect it to explode at any time."

"It could, you know. But I'm on guard for something a lot scarier than some wild animals," Star all but spat in return, inching her hand towards her hammers.

Pezmal nodded to himself, his eyes scanning the trees as they approached a small break in the forest. "Zaleeth?" He asked softly, making Star tense at the mere name.

"...yeah," Star finally mumbled.

As the two dismounted, their feet silent against the rose-colored lichens that spotted the forest floor, Pezmal motioned for Star to follow towards the northwest, his eyes trained and careful. "I've only ever heard stories of that man, and all of them give credit to your expression. The fact that you and… Marco survived an encounter with him is telling of your skills, but rest assured. You're safe out here."

"You haven't been close enough to him to know that that's not true," she grumbled in dissent, following through the thicket, "but believe me, he isn't the only scary thing out here with power." Her companion for the day gave her a questioning look, but nonetheless continued on.

Whatever she meant by it, Pezmal had decided it best not to answer. He'd no doubt heard of her transformation, and just how dangerous she could be to Alwens troops, but for better or worse he kept his mouth shut, and kept walking. And walking. And walking, for what felt like another hour. The forest they were hiking through had a distinct feeling to it, no different than that night, but another fine addition Star could discern was that it was more lively.

As quiet as it had been that night, now it was full of bird calls, chatter from the fauna echoing through the canopy, and a healthy smell of grass permeating the air. It was almost comforting to know that this forest was alive, welcoming in its own way. But just as she was beginning to relax, Pezmal slowed to a stop, his shoulders tense as he dropped to one knee. "Hold," he whispered, gesturing for Star to take cover.

She made to ask what he saw, or heard, when she felt what had given him pause: a steady heartbeat, rumbling through the trees. It came in regular intervals of ba-dump… ba-dump… ba-dump, growing louder as Pezmal lowered himself further. He had chosen a spot hidden just among the ferns, and as the beats only grew louder still, Star finally saw what he'd been hiding them from.

ba-dump.

BA-dump.

BA-DUMP.

Wide eyed and still, Star watched as the trees to her right gave way for something as big as a house marching through the forest. It had six legs, a trait common to this world, with thick, leathery skin armored with glistening scales. It had two snaking appendages sprouting from a face overgrown with spines, and as it's six clawed legs thundered the ground, they reached towards the tree trunks to guide its way through.

Movement to her left brought Star's attention to Pezmal, realizing he was covering his eyes, but pointing to his nose and ears. Poor vision, good hearing and smell, she figured he meant, and if his reaction was anything to go on, this thing was dangerous. 'So much for nothing scary out here,' she thought with annoyance, right before a snapping twig dragged the forest to a standstill.

The creature stopped abruptly and let out a warbling roar, thrusting its head to the side to launch a barrage of spines into the thicket. They ripped apart trunks and bushes into shrapnel, and with another sweep it cleared half an acre. Star fell completely still as the crashing of falling trees and screeching animals drowned out the roar, Pezmal reaching over to grab her wrist.

Like a coiled snake she snapped her attention to him with a wild look, but he was staring at her with two wide, grey eyes. "Run," was all he said in a deadpanned demand, and without provocation the two took off in a sprint away from the walking disaster. She vaulted over logs and swept through branches that raked against her armor, all the while the sound of destruction falling quiet in the distance.

But as she ran, she realized that she wasn't alone. Pezmal was fast, probably faster than her, but he kept his stride carefully controlled to keep pace just behind her, his eyes darting behind him towards the thunderous roars. Whatever that thing was, he'd dealt with it before, and was careful in every regard to keep them out of harm's way.

After some time, eventually Pezmal slowed their pace, falling to a jog, and then a brisk walk towards the north. But even though they were far from the creature, Star wheeled around to face him with a glare. "What the heck was that?! I thought you said there was nothing to worry about!?" She demanded, her voice a quiet shriek. But Pezmal only gave a shrug, fueling her spite even further.

"I never said there weren't dangers, just that you had nothing to worry about," came his casual response, "that was a Herdbeast, and a big one at that, but nothing we couldn't handle. Best to just leave it be and avoid it." And without another word, he turned on his heels and headed west, gauging the sun with his hand over the horizon.

Star stared at him, shaken only by the very distant rumbling before she took off after him, falling beside him to steep in annoyance. "I could have taken it," she grumbled, glaring at the gaps in the trees.

"I know you could have, but what purpose would it have served?" Pezmal asked, watching the same gaps with scrutiny, weaving through the brambles towards the dip in the hills, "it would be dead, and we'd have wasted precious time, or worse, gotten hurt. Not everything out here is as bloodthirsty as Zaleeth, you know."

"CAN YOU-..." Star stopped, her glare torrid as he turned around to face her, "can you stop… saying his name? I'm not- I don't like hearing it over and over again."

The forest had grown quiet as she reeled herself in, but Pezmal seemed to be the only thing unaffected by her outburst, drawing to a standstill just before a clearing. "I understand," he offered, taking a knee, "Forgive me for my behavior, I'm told I can be rather forward, as I don't often meet new faces. I mostly work in strategy and scouting, so… this is somewhat new to me."

Not bothering to ask why he was kneeling, Star slowly folded her arms and glared to the side, nodding as though they hadn't just ended a run for their lives. "It's fine. I'm just not really in the mood for conversation, is all. Its… complicated."

Pezmal seemed to regard that with understanding, inching backwards to approach a collection of brush hiding the clearing ahead from view. "Then I won't press, unless things get boring," he added unhelpfully, "Now, we should keep our voices down. We don't want our friends hearing us yet."

With reluctance, Star realized they'd stopped next to a wide berth from the trees, a small collection of wagons hidden just out of view. 'The caravan', she realized with dismay, cursing herself for having just screamed at the top of her lungs so close to the enemy. Without provocation, she too took to kneeling just beyond the treeline, watching the scene playing out before them.

There was a wooden assortment of wagons, at least thirty of them, with twice as many men and women stationed around. They were setting up camp for the night, just like Pezmal had predicted, performing menial tasks and preparing for a long, cold night. Many of them were armed and armored, but most seemed content to idly lazing about, chatting and roasting meat over hastily concocted fires.

"Oh, brother. This is what all the trouble was about? Marco and I took down worse than this just getting out of Primrose," Star scoffed in a whisper, but Pezmal brushed it aside, that smile from earlier once again played across his lips.

"I don't doubt for a moment that you could handle this pack of scum blindfolded, but for now, perhaps it would be best to wait until dark. Scout out their ranks and their numbers?" He flashed Star a grin, but she was too busy staring down the troops with distaste. These were the same breed of soldiers who aligned themselves with… him. "I think I'd rather take them on now, rather than let them spend another minute thinking they're safe. From me."

There was a dangerous edge in her voice, like a Herdbeast about to flatten an ecosystem. She wasn't just angry like the rest of them, she wasn't out for justice, no. Here was a woman with a bloodlust to her voice, out for vengeance of a whole new, personal breed.

"Star."

She didn't turn his way, but to a better tune she hadn't moved, either.

"I've seen what slaughter looks like, up close. And as much as I agree that these pigs in wolf's clothing deserve it, we've been given orders not to kill unless we have to." He moved his hand to rest against his sword, like it carried a promise he couldn't fulfill. As much as he was itching to start a riot, he knew he'd need a good reason for taking so many of them on at once. "I don't know how you and… Marco, operate, but here we need silence and precision."

He watched as she slowly began to soften, her glare loosening its grip until she finally sighed, slumping down against a fallen log. "I'll wait. But when it's dark, I'm doing it my way," she grumbled. And for a while, he continued to watch her, his grey eyes picking up every shift, expression, and emotion she laid bare as she pretended to busy herself with scouting.

He wasn't a fool to be taken lightly in any regard, and it was abundantly clear just how unsettled both her and her… accomplice were. They were dangerous at best, but right now, Star was a downright hazard to the mission, maybe even herself. As warranted as her spite was, it had no place here, and he had a good feeling they both knew it. "Has charging in with reckless abandon ever worked for you?" He asked softly, "Did it help in fighting Zal- …in fighting him?"

Star grimaced, her skin crawling at the memory of her hammer bouncing harmlessly off of that creature's shield. The way he incapacitated her with one hit in return, only for her to wake up in a mad sprint with Marco. "No. Not against that," she answered with dismay. Pezmal nodded, reclining against a nearby stump with his eyes set to the encampment. "A word of advice, Star? Never underestimate the Crown. And try to lose the chip on your shoulder, it's weighing you down far too much for your own good."

"I don't have a chip on my shoulder," she spat back, matching his posture to keep an eye on the group, "I'm just… I don't want to be here."

"You'd rather be back in the safety of the Cathedral?" Pezmal offered with smarm, before turning more serious, his eyes fixing on a particularly robust warrior in the distance. "Or would you prefer to be here with someone you trust? I overheard your discussion with… Marco, and it seems like the two of you share vastly different opinions on the matter."

Star furrowed her brow, not willing to justify him with a glance. "He owes me one for that, but he has a point. We can't exactly go home without your help."

"Now where is home for you? Do the two of you… you know…"

"What? Like, are we married? No, far from it," Star answered, her expression softening to match her careful words. It was obvious what he was asking, but it was a topic she felt wasn't entirely unreasonable. "I met him a little while ago, saved him from… himself, he let me crash at his place, and then we got sent out here."

Pezmal was quiet for a moment, his eyes not giving away his assessment of their relationship. But Star wasn't clueless at this sort of thing, she could tell when someone was "casting a line", so to speak, as she had done something similar with Marco in Primrose. "That kind of thing isn't exactly in any of our plans. Between him, the Crown, you guys; we have too much to worry about without… complicating things." She gave Pezmal a sideways look, but found him scratching tallies into the dirt beside him, numbering the troops. "Besides, he doesn't seem like he really needs any of that. He's complicated enough as it is."

"I disagree," Pezmal answered without expression or tone, "it is precisely in these moments that we most rely on those closest to us. Even Lady Duwen has someone with which to share her burden. Hence why we never operate alone, and why we encourage those sort of… relations among our ranks. We can't let those that would snuff us out steal our humanity, as often as they try."

"If you say so," Star scoffed, mimicking his watchful eye on the enemy troops, "trust placed with the wrong people can get you plenty, sure, but it's as good a way as any to get stabbed in the back."

For a long time, neither of the two said anything else. They just watched the camp slowly come together, as more and more troops moved in and out of tents and wagons to stand guard, set up, and prepare. But after a while, Pezmal glanced back over at Star, giving her a soft smile before holding out his knife, the handle offered with care. "Here. You can give this back when you trust me not to stab you," he goaded, that simple, happy tone from earlier returning to his voice, "Consider it a token of my trust, and an offer to work together to see our goals met."

Star tore her gaze away from the camp long enough to see his offer through, and once it became clear how serious he was, slowly she took his blade. It was light, impossibly sharp, and fit perfectly in her hand. She looked back to him, finding he'd turned his attention back to the camp with a smile still adorning his lips.

"Thanks. For what it's worth," she noted, stowing the blade at her side. But Pezmal tossed her a concerned frown, his eyes sharp as he muttered, "be warned. That blade was a gift from my mother, and should anything happen to it… I'll have a difficult time forgiving you."

Now it was Star's turn to smile, leaning forward to watch as the troops began to build a bonfire. "Noted, tough guy," she laughed, "so what's your story? I feel like I'm the only one getting grilled about my rotten luck."

"I suppose it's only fair that I air my dirty laundry, but truthfully? I'm afraid there's not much to tell," he answered, pulling a canteen from his side and taking a swig before offering some to Star. She didn't take it, her eyes narrowing distrustfully at the offer. Just as well, he figured. Baby steps. "I share the same song and dance as many of my discouraged allies: the Crown killed my family and razed my home, so here I am. Fighting to protect those who can't protect themselves, from an enemy with more power and strength than I'd care to entertain."

"Except for the valiant aspect, how do you live with it? Having been through that?" Star was trying to sound casual about it, but he could tell she was interested in the more personal aspect of it. She'd likely been through much the same. Pezmal shrugged, once more dragging his palm across the hilt of his sword, watching the troops carefully. "I just do… I suppose. Some days it's easier to pretend the problem isn't there, to just imagine that everything's fine and I'm fine and my families fine and the whole world is… fine," he glanced at her, regarding her with interest, "but as we both know, the skeletons in our closets aren't satisfied with pretending. And more often than not I find myself scared witless of the dark and of fire and blood. But that's why we get stronger, align ourselves with greater men and women than ourselves. We band together so we don't have to live with our past alone. So others can share our burden, and we can help them carry theirs."

Star nodded, letting out her breath slowly as she weighed his advice. He was right, she knew that much from how she regarded Marco. She felt better when she wasn't alone, when she had him to rely on, and when he relied on her. But to offer the same to these people, from a world she didn't trust? That would be harder than just pretending.

"I'll take that into consideration," she noted, staring at the camp, "but don't hold your breath."

Pezmal nodded to himself and adjusted his posture to get a better look, pushing some of the ferns aside to see the far side of the convoy "You'll find the our merry little band is far more endearing than what the rest of the world has shown you," he noted, cursing as the ferns snapped back into place, "Now if it would just show me what I'm after, that would be a blessing. I can't see a thing past these blasted plants."

Star rolled her eyes before they grew wide, a soft gasp taken as an idea popped into her head. Pezmal cocked an eyebrow at her before she abruptly stood, turning to face him with a sadistic grin. "Come on. I know how we can get these guys off our backs without getting killed."

Pezmal was quick to offer a smile in return, asking simply, "and how would that be?"

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Laprel stared at the woods, keeping a watchful eye on… well, there was nothing to keep an eye on really. The convoy mission was choice for the sole purpose of being so lackluster and boring, that you'd sooner die of boredom than from an enemy attack. Skills honed for battle had quickly become skills at keeping one's eyes open for longer than half an hour, and with twilight creeping its way across the sky, who could blame them.

They were still two days out from Tearlily, and the relievement of their duty couldn't come fast enough. Laprel fashioned his spear into a sort of post to lean on, and as the day crept on, his energy dwindled. He was practically daydreaming about the night's dinner rations when the crunch of leaves ahead drew his attention. He fell into a coughing rush to stand straight and eyeball the woods ahead. And what he was met with was an unusual sight: a woman in a hood running towards him with terror in her eyes.

"Help me!" She screamed, drawing the attention of every soldier within earshot. She stumbled a few times, desperately scrambling to reach the camp as the men drew their weapons, but it was Laprel who regarded her first. "State your business, girl! What's-" he was cut off by a heavy rumbling from the forest as the woman fell to her knees just behind him. She was flanked by soldiers and guards, but all eyes were on the treeline, weapons pointed and breaths held.

As they watched the trees slow their maddening shake, as the ground began to fall quiet, the men let themselves relax enough to exhale. The rumbling drew down to a quiet murmur, and as Laprel turned to face the woman, he brandished his spear. But what he found was a girl smiling at him, her heart-stamped cheeks wide beneath two glaring blue eyes. Before he could move, before he could even breathe, she let out a blood curdling scream. And as if to answer her call, the treeline exploded.

Dozens of shards of bone flew from the brush as the ground shook violently. Men were impaled where they stood, some dropped their weapons and fled, and a brave few held their ground as a Herdbeast charged through the trees, flattening everything in its wake. Pezmal held fast to the charging horns atop its head, veering it around the girl amidst the wasted soldiers, letting the appendages of the beast thrash about. Wagons were tossed aside like toys as it bellowed in a warbling groan, and as Laprel violently turned back to face the woman, he was met with a hammer to the chin.

Having dispatched the loudmouth guard with an uppercut, Star turned on her heels and followed the charging Headbeast, letting it follow the sounds of screaming men and clambering weapons. She didn't make a sound, the soles of her shoes having been covered with moss, but after a quick glance up at Pezmal, she decided it best to let him have his fun.

Brandishing both hammers, Star dove in and out of groups of soldiers, swinging with wild abandon as they gawked at the destruction of their camp. She wove in and around swings of axes and swords, clipping into armor with mighty clangs, which only served to infuriate the beast further. In a matter of minutes, nearly the entire convoy was left in splinters as the remaining soldiers took to frantically fleeing for their lives. Panic was the order of the day, and Star intended to deliver in full.

She thought about donning her Mewberty form, to really scare the pants off of anyone brave enough to linger in the bushes, but she knew that was a death sentence. At best, she'd fly off to find Marco and leave Pezmal alone with the mess, and at worst? Well, she would need help to return to normal, and that was out of the question.

Thankfully, the soldiers seemed plenty convinced that the encampment was lost for good, many of them flocking towards the western woods without so much as a glance back. And as the Herdbeast followed the screams and sounds of the forest being torn apart in a frenzied flight from its wrath? Star stowed her hammers and smiled as Pezmal sauntered over, a matching grin for her efforts.

"See? Wasn't that way more fun than scouting for five hours and still having to risk our lives?" She asked, glad to see his smile broaden.

"I can't say that I've ever enjoyed the sight of those monsters running for their lives so much," he laughed, "and what of your part in all this? The helpless damsel in distress turned bloodthirsty warrior! The bards would sing your praises for generations!"

Star shook off his glowing praise as she tapped her hammers, the two making their way through what remained of the camp. "It was nothing. Like I said, Marco and I took on worse in Primrose, and this time I didn't even have to wear a guy's armor!"

Pezmal gave her a laugh, one with a touch less energy than before as he knelt beside the more intricate wagon's remains. "Yes… quite a show for the ages. I'm glad to see Alwen wasn't exaggerating about your prowess, or I might have preferred you stick to the sidelines." He pawed through the bits of broken wood, looking for documents and intel as Star took to the same. "You're truly something else, Star, an enigma I can't wrap my head around, and a dangerous beauty if ever there was one."

For the first time in a while, Star felt her cheeks bloom scarlet as she shouldered a grin, pushing a broken wagon wheel to the side to reveal a strongbox tucked away. "Well…. Thank you, Pezmal. You weren't a complete burden yourself," she offered with a laugh, "Now let's see what these creeps got, I could use a fat payday after all this."

Pezmal dropped a smoldering piece of wood to stroll closer, using his sword to break the lock on the wooden container. Inside was nothing less than a fortune in gold coins and Crown script, along with a half stack of scrolls carefully woven in place. "My word… I daresay this is… plenty," Pezmal noted with a twist of optimism, picking up a fistful of coins and letting them slip through his fingers, "we should be well off for far longer than we'd hoped. And just as well, a touch of intelligence for our efforts!"

Star heaved the lockbox onto her shoulders, her Mewman strength coming in handy to carry the brunt of it as Pezmal pawed through the scrolls. It wasn't quite a surprise, but she felt good, seeing so much fruit from her labor. And greater still that she could handle herself well enough in the wilds of the lands. She didn't feel like a shadow was looming just out of view, far from it. She felt like a weight had been taken off her shoulders, replaced only with a hefty box full of money, and a good bit of valuable information. "Anything good in there?" She asked as they made their way out of the camp and into the treeline. At this pace, it would take them well into nightfall before they reached the horses, but they'd be back home on schedule all the same.

"Oh my… not… not quite, I'm afraid," came Pezmal's ragged whisper. A quick glance in his direction revealed a young man with wide, fearfully grey eyes staring at the scroll in his hands, his face twisted into one of concern. "This is a supply request from the southern regiments to those in the north. Apparently they've been allotted more of a certain, vile weapon we've learned to avoid in our campaign: Black wine."

Star cocked a worried eyebrow as she readjusted the box to get a better look, Pezmal holding out the scroll for her to read. It wasn't easy to understand, but all the same she could make out the request, and the issuance. "What is that stuff? What kind of weapon is it?" She asked. Pezmal shook his head and cursed at the waning sunset.

"Black wine is a sort of virus, a chemical produced by Zal-... by him. When ingested, it infects the host and takes over their body, turning them into a powerful weapon, and a creature from your worst nightmares." Star had a pretty vivid idea of what her worst nightmares looked like, and if her studies into the Solarian soldier program had any backing, she knew why Pezmal was so stricken with fear.

"It's very dangerous, and it's cost us more than a few ranks of good men," Pezmal continued, shaking his head as though the fact made him sick, "but there is a silver lining: it doesn't come without price. Black Wine is very difficult for him to make, so it's exceedingly rare. And as a virus, it leaves the host broken and dead within minutes of consumption."

"Still…," Star could only shudder at the thought of that creature producing something so dangerous on a whim. She'd seen something of the sort when he'd summoned a copy of Marco to trick her. The way he disintegrated into a spray of black tar, it brought some comfort in knowing that the stuff he was after was so taxing, and so scarce.

"We should hurry back to the others and warn them," Pezmal all but ordered, shouldering half the load to help them hurry along. Gone was the smile from his lips, and back to stay were those fierce, grey eyes. But Star was more concerned about Marco, and the fact that his mission had taken him further south. Closer to enemy territory.

Reading her expression like a familiar page in a book, Pezmal offered carefully, "I wouldn't be too concerned about your friend, he's with Lucy. She can handle herself, and she won't let him get hurt if the Black wine has already made its way south. Rest assured, he'll be fine," he offered, and for better or worse, Star felt comfortable enough to believe him.

After an hour or so of walking, the two make it back to the horses, stuffing everything they could into their saddlebags and leaving only a few fistfuls of gold for the bandits. It was a lofty haul, surely, but before they started their return, Star once more pulled her horse in front of Pezmals, her eyes fierce, but true. "Here," she whispered, holding out his knife with care, "I think, for now… I trust you enough to give this back. Thank you… for showing me that I can still rely on someone in this crazy place."

Pezmal looked down at the dagger, before letting a smile creep back up to brighten the evening. "Keep it. It's in good hands, and I feel safer knowing you wield it at my side." With a snap of his reins, he maneuvered around her, trotting to a stop just at the opening of the main road, flashing her a wicked grin. "Now, shall we have that race? I believe I'm overdue on my bar tab, and the loser might just wind up buying me a drink this evening."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

It took longer than expected, since the horses were laiden with more gold than any man could spend in a year, but just before the peak of midnight Star strode into the ring of trees that marked the entrance to the Cathedral. "Looks like… you lose…" She panted, letting her reins loose as Pezmal strode up to greet her, his voice ragged from hours of hard riding. The burly man guarding the entrance began the daunting task of opening the front door as Pezmal gave her a wide grin.

"I can't- believe- you've never ridden- before," came his ragged response, desperate to catch his breath and warm his hands. But Star met him with a sadistic flash of teeth before shrugging. "Never said I've never ridden, hot shot, just that I've never ridden a horse," she giggled, kicking her horse as the door to the Cathedral latched open with a metallic bang, "where I'm from, we have Warnicorns, and they're a lot tougher than these ponies you guys ride."

"Is that so? Well I suppose that renders the contract of my defeat null and void," Pezmal offered, dismounting once the two had made it inside. He wasn't fond of losing a horse race, but against a woman like Star, it was hard not to find her confidence and glee infectious. "However, since I'm in such a good mood, perhaps I'll buy you a drink, and you can regale me with more stories of the land you call home?"

Star smiled, her cheeks red from the ride and the offer. She missed feeling like this: confident and carefree as she was on Mewni. She badly wanted to chase the high, to feel as though- as Pezmal had put it- the world was fine. But as the young man patiently waited for an answer amidst the bustle of the cave's entrance, he watched as Star went pale, her eyes flashing wide as her smile was shattered.

"Star? Are you-"

She pushed past him, the weight and strength of her stride almost enough to knock him over. It was as if he wasn't even there, which, to her eyes, he wasn't. All she could see was a small crowd of freedom fighters gathered around a table, many of them hurriedly gathering supplies and working.

Working, on the battered, broken, and bleeding young man laid out on his back, barely clinging to life.

The cave was silent to her, her footsteps echoing against the cold, wet stone. Gone was the red to her cheeks, and fleeting was the warmth in her chest and she pushed forward. Her hand fell upon none other than Alwen, forcing him to turn about and meet her withering gaze. Everyone present froze as what felt like a wave of cold and dread flooded the entrance, like the light and life and joy had been forced away by the young woman's frigid glare.

Her eyes were burning white, and in a translucent, echoing voice she asked only one question to the men and women who dared to meet her gaze, a burst of pressure flowing from her presence.

"You… What. Happened. To Marco."

"Bravery is something like a legend, a myth, a lie cultivated over millennia by those who seek to deal in tragedy, and come out unscathed. Many will tell you to be brave, to shoulder the load, to ignore the pain, to pretend that everything is fine. But it's a lie. Things aren't fine, even when you wish and act as though they are. Bravery in the face of struggle and loss isn't the strength to act as though you aren't affected by it, nor is it the courage to push past the pain and loneliness. Bravery is letting someone pull you through it, accepting a lent hand, and admitting you need help. A silent pain is more deadly than the loudest of men who hide theirs from the world."

~Mr. Ronald Reagan

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