Author's Note: I'm back with another long-ass chapter. PLEASE READ THIS WARNING! This chapter contains attempted sexual assault. Please read at your own discretion. Thank you.
Unexpected
By: Mad Betrayal
"True friends stab you in the front…"—Oscar Wilde
Chapter 46 ~ Appaloosa Wood
Somehow, against all odds, Appaloosa Wood stood completely unscathed. What was even more incredulous, was that the people meandered about as if there had never been a global natural disaster at all. Definitely part of rural Ninjago, it was a small village nestled in the sheltering bosom of stably groves of cedars, oaks, and cypresses. Amongst the romping children who hooted and hollered their joy, making snowmen and snow angels were the more reserved adults loading wagons with supplies and lumber which were being pulled by powerful Clydesdales. While Jay and everybody else were stupefied, Obadiah was absolutely charmed. He sauntered over to the nearest passerby with an unabashed grin. "Good morning, my good man. Pleasant day, isn't it?"
The much older man stopped—weathered and grey and hunkered over a cane—and squinted up at Obadiah. He adjusted his bifocaled specs and cried out with glee. "Ol' Obadiah! That be you?"
"Of course, it is. Do you know anyone else with a visage as hideous as mine?"
The elderly man cackled. "Be you right, be you right."
"No, he is not." Sensei Garmadon stepped forward with a hard frown. The older man stalled at the Master of Darkness' harsh, steel glare and gave Obadiah a bemused side glance.
"Psst. He blind?"
Shooting Sensei Garmadon an unimpressed look, Obadiah rolled his eyes. "Yes, but only figuratively. Please, ignore his ignorance."
The older man shrugged, unbothered. "So what brings ya back to the Wood, Obadiah? It's been what—two years almost? Lemme guess, the pho, right?"
"Ah, while my meager appetite yearns to be satiated—"
"Meager?"
"—I must decline for now," Obadiah finished, undeterred by Sensei Garmadon's deadpanned interruption. "In lieu, I was hoping for an audience with Elder Julius. I trust His One-leggedness has fared well?"
The older man's grin widened, the gapes in his teeth on full display. "Shame on ya for that one, but yep. Julius is right as rain. Been settin' up these supply runs to other villages who need 'em." He gestured to the line of wagons along the road with a backward thumb. "After them green balls of fire came rainin' down, yanno?"
Sensei Garmadon quirked up a silver eyebrow. "So, you were aware of the crisis from the sky?"
The older man lifted one right back, bushy, grey, and unkempt. "Course, son, we ain't blind. Wouldn't call it a 'crisis', though—much too pretty for that. Nah, we folks figured if it was God callin' us home, we weren't gonna hide from it." The old man shrugged again. "If it was time to go then it was time to go. Nuttin' more than that. But here we be still. So not yet."
Jay had to grin at the simplicity of the old man's ideology, and looking out towards the rest of the village, it was obvious it was an ideology shared. After leaving the mayhem and devastation of New Ninjago City, he expected to find the same no matter where they went—that was just how destructive he believed the meteor shower to have been. He hadn't expected to find a pocket of untouched normalcy where the holiday spirit was sustained to boot, at least not so soon.
"Huh, I expected nothing less from him. He always had a bleeding heart," Obadiah mused. "Nevertheless, this is an important matter. I have a ship in need of extensive repairs. And I came here because of this fine village's employ of competent carpenters and interior designers."
The older man gesticulated his gloved hand in dismissal. "Save yer barterin' tongue for Julius. He be home last I heard. You r'member where the inn is?" At Obadiah's lazy nod, he turned to go. "Good. Think they have a few vacancies left—people comin' in from Hollyhead recently. And Colt's Neck will have ya if ya need that pho later. On the house for you and yer brood, of course. The Wood is still grateful to ya."
When the elderly man ambled away, Obadiah whipped around and clapped his hands. "Children, come, come. Don't start loitering around just yet."
Lloyd muttered something unintelligible, though Jay was able to catch "old patronizing bastard" amongst his charge's grumblings. Despite his disdain, however, Lloyd gathered with the rest of them, being sure to hover protectively over Brad. Jay peeked at the shorter, aqua-eyed male from his peripheral. Unfortunately, Brad had a rather rude awakening. As Obadiah had predicted, Brad's nervous system had been affected by his Mana drainage and as a result, he awoke this morning screaming in agony after having slept nearly half a day.
And Obadiah—it was strange—he was so calm. Too calm. Like he knew exactly what to do. He had come into the room with a bucket, instructed Lloyd to hold Brad's hair back, and like clockwork, Brad had emptied his stomach into the waiting pail. "There, there, now don't you feel better, Petunia? Be sure to take your time in the bath. Make sure you're completely clean before leaving. The rest of you get ready as well. We'll be landing soon." It had been Obadiah's healing hands that had soothed Brad's aching body and calmed his fever. And while color had returned to Brad's face, there was a certain glazed dullness in his eyes that screamed depression to the blue ninja. And most likely to everybody else.
"Now, while I'm taking care of business, some of you need to make sure to procure us some rooms, as we may need to nest here for a time while the Bounty's being repaired." Obadiah pointed a partly bandaged finger at the main road. "All of the village's most prevalent facilities are found on this road here."
"But where are the Appaloosas?"
Everyone turned to Brad, for it was the first full sentence he'd uttered since his awakening. All anyone's been able to get from him beforehand were half-hearted shakes of the head and noncommittal grunts. Obadiah eyed Brad with a slipshod tilt of his head. "Further down south. Past the timber mills. But before you do anything else, Petunia—eat. Doesn't matter if you feel like it or not. Your body needs it. Do you understand?"
Brad's sullen gaze lifted to Obadiah's dual-colored one. A silent war of attrition waged between the two before the younger acquiesced with a heavy sigh and bobbed his head. Obadiah turned without another word, brandishing his kiseru, and began his trek down the road. Garmadon regarded his clan. "Remain inconspicuous and vigilant. We don't know if the regime has issued an emergency broadcast vying for our arrest, and we need to make a quick escape."
Just when Jay thought morale couldn't get any lower. "Do you really think they would?" Cole hedged. "Seems like it would be a waste of resources if they did, given most provinces would be more concerned with rebuilding and stuff."
A grim line settled across Garmadon's face. "It isn't something we should rule out, Cole." Silver eyes pierced them all. "Be ready for anything." And he followed after Obadiah.
"Well, that's not ominous," Jay mumbled.
Nya clicked her tongue and turned on her heel to head in the opposite direction. "Where ya goin', sis?"
She didn't look back. "Back to that store we just passed near the entrance—Thunder Hooves or whatever. I wouldn't want to intrude on someone else's space." No one missed the scathing emphasis she had placed on that final word. Jay winced at her hissing lilt but couldn't help but call worriedly out to her.
"Nya, we shouldn't separate. I'll come with you—"
"I can look after myself."
The blue ninja balked. He didn't understand why she's been so irritable lately. Was she angry with him? Cole couldn't have broken up with her already. Right? Should he apologize, then? Guilt and shame wrought his heart, and he averted his gaze to the ground, not sure what to do. Her brother, on the other hand, bit back. "You on your period or what?!"
Nya flipped him the bird, still marching away. "I'll take that as a 'yes'!" Kai huffed and sucked his teeth. "God, I hate it when she gets bitchy."
Jay watched as Cole shrugged, unconcerned. His brow furrowed and he could feel his pulse jump along his throat. This was none of his business, he knew that. And he also knew he was partially to blame for Nya's misery. But Cole wouldn't tell her… No, he wouldn't… Jay fidgeted, licking his lips and adjusting his orange scarf. He hated this feeling. He just hated it. But he also knew that in the long run, everything would be okay, because he and Cole wouldn't be together.
And if Nya wanted to blame him for Cole's actions…that was fine. He would protect her feelings and even defend her from his best friend's callousness.
Cole approached him. He tried to reach up and touch his bandaged head, but Jay blocked his hand. "What did you do?"
Cole's thick eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Whaddaya mean? To Nya? All I did was ask for some space. That's all."
"And you didn't stop to think how that would make her feel?"
Cole frowned, drawing himself up. "Maybe you need to stop worrying so much about her, Jay. You're not responsible for her happiness anymore."
Jay's sapphire eyes narrowed into sharp slits as he glared into Cole's emerald depths. "I don't need for you to tell me that. You think I don't know? I may not be her boyfriend anymore, but I'll be damned if I stop caring about her just because you told me to."
"That's not what I meant, Jay. I just meant—"
But Jay didn't care to hear the rest. He simply turned on his heel and walked away. Maybe he was being too sensitive and unreasonable, but he didn't care. He felt like shit. Both inside and out. His back ached something terrible, he could only wear one glove because his other hand had two splints on it, making it too awkward to wear a glove, so one hand was going numb and freezing, and he could feel pressure building behind his eyes and spreading to every corner of his head, with every pulse of the migraine aggravating his stitches. So yes, the Master of Lightning was in a mood.
A chime from his phone alerted him to a text message and he fished it from his pocket. Upon inspection, it displayed only one word, but soon more messages filtered through.
Nya: Jay
Nya: I'm sorry.
Nya: I'm not upset with you, just with Cole.
Jay grimaced as he tried to text with one hand. It was painful but he managed. Ambidextrous or not.
Jay: Its ok
Jay: And Cole is just hangry. Let him eat and he'll be back to his senses
Nya: lol you're right
Nya: I miss
Nya: Do you need anything?
Jay stared baffled at the slip-up but shrugged it off and answered.
Jay: Nah just going to eat ttyl
Nya: ok ttyl
"Hey cutie, you all came in with Obadiah, right? You hungry?"
Startled, Jay fumbled with his phone before snapping his attention to the person who spoke. A pretty, buxom woman with a crown of cinnamon curls and playful periwinkle eyes grinned at him. "Uhhh…"
"That's right, miss." Cole came up beside him, as did Lloyd and Brad. "Is it true we get to eat here for free? Just because we're with him?"
"Yep," the woman giggled, eyes gleaming. "Welcome to Colt's Neck where pho is our specialty! Come on in outta the cold and I'll get you seated. The name's Robin, by the way."
Jay followed after everybody else, still feeling somewhat disoriented. He hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings at all. Just how long had he been walking? He winced when his temple pulsed with pain. As soon as he stepped foot inside the establishment, however, a savory aroma of spices and herbs hit his nose, making him almost salivate with hunger. He looked around and spotted a lit fireplace, hard at work with the congregation of bodies in keeping the place warm. A moose head mounted over it, dead-eyed. It gave Jay the impression that it was, indeed, real. Entering further, Jay soon gleaned that Colt's Neck had a comfortable and rustic ambiance to it. It was crowded but not overly so with people strewn about the wicker furniture either engaged in lively conversation at tables or lounging at the bar watching the television hanging from high on the wall. Greenery added to the naturalistic atmosphere of the place, as decorative ivy was wrapped around the dangling ceiling lights and healthy moss clung to the walls along with professionally painted portraits of horses and farmlands.
"Hey, folks!" Robin called to the crowd of patrons. "These young gents are with Obadiah so treat 'em kindly, ya hear!"
A hurrah arose from the people of Colt's Neck with some even lifting their beers and lagers in acknowledgment. Jay blinked at the warm welcome, his curiosity, even more, piqued now about the old vagabond in their midst. Robin led them to an empty booth and handed out menus.
"Any drinks to start?"
"Yeah, before that," Lloyd pinned Robin down with a serious stare, "what did Obadiah do to obtain such notoriety?"
"Notoriety?" Robin placed a hand against her cocked hip. "Did you not hear them cheers, boy? Obadiah is the town's hero! He saved our prize Appaloosas from some thievin' wranglers a year or so back. Gave 'em that old school justice and killed them all, he did."
"He killed them?" Cole asked, face grim and Robin smirked.
"Sure 'nough. Only Buck and a handful of others saw it all go down, though. But to hear 'im tell it, Obadiah was wicked. Merciless. Some even tried to flee but Obadiah cut 'em down anyway. And he did it all with a stick."
"A stick?" They all chorused in unison and Robin laughed, light and cheery.
"I know right? Who'da thunk it he'd be that strong, yanno? When he first came here, he looked like a walkin' corpse—thin as hell and gaping wounds all over his body. People thought it was a miracle he was still alive. Didn't talk much either, from what I remember. But we chalked it up to atrophy and general weakness, yanno? But within a few months, he perked right on up. Surly but charming in a way. He definitely has a way with words, and without all them hideous scars, I bet he would be quite a looker too. Even if he is old as dirt."
"Wow…thanks, Robin," Cole said. "Um, I think I'll take a root beer, please."
Jay ordered himself a ginger ale and a matcha boba tea for Brad and a coke for Lloyd. When Robin left to get their drinks the four of them exchanged speculative looks. "With a stick, huh…" Jay mused, rubbing his splinted hand to try and return more warmth and feeling to it.
Cole opened his menu. "Well, he is supposed to be the Master of Nature. Before Bolobo. So, we can bet that it wasn't just any ol' stick."
"He sounds amazing," Brad breathed, but Lloyd just frowned.
"He sounds dangerous."
"We're all dangerous, Lloyd," Jay countered. "And we all saw how effortlessly Obadiah took out those soldiers back at the Honeycomb. Even if he's not a Master, he's definitely something. Truth of the matter is, though, we can sit here and speculate all we want but the only one who can answer our questions is the man himself."
"And who knows if he'll be truthful or not," Lloyd scoffed, resting his cheek on his palm.
Brad shook his head with a crease in his brow. "Why would he lie?"
"Maybe because we don't know him, Brad. We don't know what he's capable of, other than killing fleeing thieves."
Brad made a face. "He saved my life, Lloyd! And he's still saving it. He may've killed people but who cares if they were the scum of the earth. And from the stories you all have told me, and from what I've experienced so far…none of you are exactly saints either."
Lloyd looked ready to retort but before he could, Robin returned with their drinks. "Okay, gents, are we ready to get some grub, or do you need a few more minutes? If you're lookin' for recommendations—the pho. It's the best on this side of Ninjago. In fact, folks come from all over just to try it."
"Actually…that does sound great," Cole said, and there were nods all around.
"Gotcha! Four bowls of pho comin' up! Anything else?"
Cole lifted his finger, which Jay knew he would. He just hoped he didn't go overboard. "These garlic chicken wings look good too. Some spring rolls and veggies would be nice… And what are these—tacos!? Yes, please! And it's the perfect weather for noodle soup."
"But isn't pho a noodle soup?" Brad asked but Jay just shook his head.
"Just let him."
After Cole ordered a few more things (fried rice and barbeque skewers), Robin cheered. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Looks like we got another Obadiah on our hands! Alrighty, gents," she winked and retrieved their menus, "I'll be right back."
When she sauntered away, Brad stared at Cole, disbelieving. "Are you really going to eat all that by yourself?"
"Nah, you guys can have a little bit too."
"And he does mean 'a little bit'," Jay said. "But anyway, where's Kai and Zane?"
Lloyd fiddled with his phone. "Oh, Zane was still…in shock, I guess? From yesterday and Kai took him with him to the inn. I guess they'll eat later. But maybe we should bring them back something?"
Jay nodded distractedly. "Yeah, just in case Zane doesn't feel up to moving." Now, that had been a revelation. First him, then Brad, now Zane—Marked Ones. He looked over at Brad, wondering if it was even appropriate to bring up such a sensitive topic. But Jay hadn't had the chance to talk to anyone besides Cole about it. And he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he was curious about how other guys like him felt about it. Another Marked One's perspective.
He cleared his throat. "Say—um, Brad?" When the younger man lifted his aqua eyes to Jay, he grinned sheepishly. "Y-You don't have to tell me if you're uncomfortable or anything, but I was just wondering… How do you feel about all this," Jay waved his hand carelessly and shrugged, "Marked One stuff?"
Brad removed his lips from his straw and swallowed. "Oh—well, um," he stuttered, as red instantly colored his cheeks. And much like Jay, he shrugged as well. "I guess it's whatever? I mean, I'm not really worried about kids right now." He then averted his gaze to the grain of the table. "Mainly because I used to be one not that long ago…"
Oh. Right. Jay's heart gave a painful twinge for Brad. Damn, with what's been going on as of late, Jay nearly forgot about the raven-haired young man's horrible circumstance. Of course, he wouldn't be concerned with any of the consequences of being a Marked One right now. Which left Zane for him to discuss his feelings with. Jay wondered how his nindroid brother was faring with Kai right now. He seemed beyond shell-shocked this morning and apparently hadn't slept at all last night.
"What about you, Jay-sunbae?" Brad's tentative lilt shook Jay from his musings, and he returned his attention to the younger male. "You're the first of us." Jay tried not to wince in the face of that. "What do you think about being a Marked One?"
That it's utter, complete bullshit… But in lieu of voicing this thought, the Master of Lightning let a veneer of bravado leak into his voice and demeanor. "Please. If there's one thing you should know about me, Brad, is that I'm the picture of optimism. To me, this is nothing more than a prolonged nightmare. And oh-boy am I ready to wake up."
Jay closed his eyes, ignoring Cole's burning stare into the side of his head. Both Brad and Lloyd gave him bemused looks. "Wait a minute, Kaasan. Are you saying you don't believe the Mana Cetra?"
"Damn right I don't. It's too ridiculous to even think about." Jay didn't care if making a baby with another man was only "optional". It just didn't feel right that someone could just change his physiology on a whim. Especially without his permission. It was bad enough that he was starting to suspect that he had body dysmorphia, but now he had to contend with the mental images of himself with a pregnant belly? No thanks… But what was he truly worried about anyway? It's not like he had anyone.
"There's a difference between optimism and denial, Jay."
Jay cut his eyes crossly to Cole, but the other didn't return his glare. His focus was on his mug of root beer. However, there was a distinct, disgruntled furrow in his brow. Robin returned with their food shortly after that and all serious conversation ceased. Three pairs of eyes widened incredulously as each steaming bowl of pho was sat in front of them. Not only was it a nice-sized bowl—it was obvious that the cook didn't skimp out on the ingredients—but there was also a giant slab of pork rib half submerged within the broth.
Cole, on the other hand, was ecstatic! "This is great!"
Robin giggled as she placed the rest of the dishes on the table. "Enjoy, gents! And be sure to take yer time." Like a criminal getting away with murder, her laugh seemed to echo in Jay's mind as she made her escape. He had no idea how he was supposed to tackle the mound of food in front of him. With the youngers tentatively brandishing their chopsticks and tucking into their bowls, Cole was already gorging himself on the chunky and marbling, rib.
Well, Jay thought, grabbing his own pair of chopsticks, if I manage to finish this, I think I won't need to eat again for at least two days…
*~XxX~*
"Hrmm, what yer wantin' isn't undoable, Obadiah. But it'll cost ya a pretty penny."
The three of them sat in Elder Julius' office within his cabin home. Garmadon watched as Obadiah's lips pulled into a charming grin. "By all means, we are more than willing to pay. Just an arm, mind you. Not a leg."
"Obadiah!"
Though Garmadon had been made aware of Elder Julius' missing leg by Obadiah's off-handed comment from earlier, it had still been a disarming sight to see when the village elder had opened his home to them whilst wielding two crutches. Perhaps befittingly, Elder Julius was a tree of a man—tall and as broad as an oak. However, to juxtapose with such an intimidating stature was a very round and pleasant face with warm coffee-colored eyes, short brushed back white hair, and an equally white beard long and thick enough to braid. Garmadon couldn't help but think that the man could make for a very convincing mall Santa if no one minded the flannel and jeans…with one pants leg cut off and bounded by string.
Elder Julius snorted a good-humored chuckle and sat back in his chair. "It's fine, Garmadon. Though Obadiah's been gone from the Wood for over a year now, I haven't forgotten his…charm." His glasses near the tip of his nose, he eyed the two men over them. "Must admit, though, I recall 'im being nicer back in the day."
Garmadon perked up, genuinely surprised. Elder Julius grinned. "Yep. I reckon it's been decades since all three of us been in the same room together. Then there's Wu missin'." It didn't take long for him to further elucidate as he scratched his bearded chin. "Yer da would bring y'all to the Wood every summer back when we were boys. And stay for a week or so. That went on for years until y'all just stopped comin'. Though I bonded more with Wu, we all got along. And you two were joined at the hip." Garmadon didn't miss how Obadiah turned away at that. "Ah, and Obadiah loved them Appaloosas. I wouldn't be surprised if that's why you didn't spare them thieves."
Garmadon tried his damndest to remember. And he did—he remembered his father bringing him and Wu to Appaloosa Wood for a vacation from training every summer to stay for a week. He remembered admiring and lying amongst the wildflowers, catching fireflies by moonlight, racing to climb the tallest trees, riding the Appaloosas, and enjoying the delicious and renowned pho. However, his brother, Julius, and even his father wasn't with him through most of these occasions.
The Master of Darkness pressed a hand to his throbbing temple and squeezed his eyes shut. Within his mind's eye, he saw his younger self in full clarity, but beside him was only a shadowy void of a figure around his size. It has to be Obadiah… It has to be… But then, why can't I see him…? Though it was beyond frustrating, Garmadon kept calm and opened his eyes. Elder Julius must've seen something in his expression because his voice took on a more sympathetic tone.
"It was a long time ago, Garmadon. A mere steppin'stone on our path to adulthood. It's okay if you don't remember."
"Indeed," Obadiah concurred coolly. "Such memories are inconsequential now."
"Who are you to tell me what is consequential or not." Along the hard edge of Garmadon's inflection was an unmistakable touch of hurt, enough so that Obadiah spared him a quick side glance. "They are mine. And there of you. Therefore, they are of consequence."
Elder Julius took a sip from his coffee mug during the ensuing silence, brown eyes circumventing from one man to the other. That was until Obadiah broke it with a long-suffering sigh. "Please forgive his obstinance. Some of us just refuse to age gracefully."
Elder Julius quirked up an eyebrow. "As you have?"
"Oh, heavens no! As you have, my friend."
Elder Julius placed his mug down with a snort of derision. "Yeah, because a man gettin' his leg chopped off at a sawmill because of an arrogant newbie's stupidity and still being belligerently bitter about it decades later is the epitome of well-adjusted."
"Hey, at least you've never gone on a killing spree."
"Kinda hard to do so with only one leg."
Obadiah smiled pleasantly. "You'd be surprised what the human body is capable of under unfathomable duress."
Elder Julius gave him a pointed look (as did Garmadon), obviously taking in his heavily scarred countenance and blind eye. And who knew what damage was hidden underneath the raggedy clothes and bandages. "S'pose I should count my lucky stars then."
The rest of the meeting went off without a hitch, and Elder Julius arranged for interior designers and woodworkers to meet with the clan tomorrow morning. After they bid Elder Julius farewell, Garmadon proposed a question to Obadiah. "He mentioned thieves that you supposedly killed… What was that about?"
Obadiah gazed out towards the horizon from where Elder Julius' cabin lay near isolated, as it was furthest from the town square and surrounded mostly by the frosted woodlands. "I saved the Appaloosas from them."
"And you had no choice but to kill them?" Garmadon pressed, and Obadiah turned to him, his expression stonewalled.
"I had regained my freedoms, Garmadon. It's not my fault those men squandered theirs by doing something that repulsed me." A delicately light snowfall began to descend upon them as the two masters continued down the path, heading further away from the village and deeper through the forest. "And," Obadiah brandished his kiseru and lit the bowl with a snap of his fingers, the red plumes soon billowing around his terribly scarred face, "I've unlearned how to hold back."
A deep melancholy wrought Garmadon's heart at those words. "Yes. I suppose you would have to in order to survive in the Cursed Realm for as long as you had. However, you did hold back against the soldiers back at the Honeycomb."
"Did I?"
Garmadon frowned, a cold chill traveling down his spine. They went quiet for a time, both lost in thought. Only permeated by the natural ambience of the forest. Slightly confused, Garmadon wondered where they were going. "Aren't you hungry?" He asked. "Shouldn't we head back to the village?"
Obadiah didn't break stride. "You can if you must. I'm fine."
"No. I'll stay with you."
Obadiah kept quiet and they continued on. Garmadon just took his time and appreciated the calm. The air was so crisp and refreshing. Never mind the cold. And the way the sunshine made the snow glisten was beautiful in its own right. However, he did wish he could see the wildflowers again. And it was much too cold for the fireflies to emerge tonight. It was a bittersweet thought that he couldn't relive the memories of his past that he had recalled. And with Obadiah by his side.
It took a moment for him to realize that Obadiah had stopped, and he turned around. "Something wrong?"
Obadiah appeared to be staring at a tree, his expression passive. "Cypress…emblematic of life and death…"
Garmadon returned to his side and peered up at the tree as well. Its sturdy trunk was erected from the frozen earth and stretched meters and meters high until its limbs split into multiple directions, going up and up. Though it was bereft of its green needles and bulbs, it was still impressive. Obadiah pressed a hand against the trunk and without further preamble, stuck his kiseru in his mouth and began climbing up the tree.
"Obadiah?" Garmadon sighed when he didn't receive a response and, albeit grudgingly, followed up after him. Seemingly reaching a preferred height dozens of meters from the ground, Obadiah sat upon a group of branches, his long legs dangling over the open air below. Garmadon came up beside him and settled closest to the trunk, resting his back against it.
Obadiah still refused to look at him, his sights instead focused on the flowing river over yonder and the flocks of snow geese settled near its banks. Garmadon didn't press him, figuring his old friend would speak when he was ready. He didn't have to wait long.
"They will stay here for a time, but near winter's end, they will return to their nesting grounds in the artic to have and to raise their young. Did you know that snow geese are monogamous? Yes. They mate for life. Such a beautiful thing."
Garmadon casts a bored eye towards the snow geese making a cacophonic ruckus near the riverbanks. He could hear their incessant honking even from this distance. "Fascinating," he drawled. "But that still does not explain why we're up here to begin with."
Obadiah took a long drag from his kiseru and oddly (or not) began whistling. Four short notes followed by one long one. It seemed preordained by the gods that every sound that Obadiah made was akin to sweet music. Except for when he was being unnecessarily cruel and cynical, of course. He did this a few more times, and Garmadon had a sinking suspicion of what he was trying to do.
"Don't tell me you're going to summon another—"
Garmadon barely stifled a gasp when a large snowy owl swooped in out of nowhere and found perch on Obadiah's arm, its sharp talons easily piercing the skin and drawing blood. Not that Obadiah minded. "And look who responded to my call first try?" Obadiah gushed, scratching under the owl's feathery chin. "Big enough for you, Garmy?"
"What do you mean, 'big enough'? And you're ble—" And just like that, it happened again. A new, or rather old memory had returned to him:
"I mean, I think it's cool and all that you can summon birds and stuff, Obadiah. But can't you summon something bigger than a sparrow?"
"Well yeah, but I don't wanna scare you, Garmy."
"Scare me? How could you scare me when I'm asking for it? Try me."
"That's true. You are asking for it, aren'tcha? *whistles*"
"Yeah, so—GAH! What in the world is that thing!?"
"Ahahahah! Big enough for you, Garmy? Can't get any bigger than a vulture."
"Not funny, Obadiah! Get that thing away from me before it decides to tear my insides out!"
"She not 'it'. And SHE thinks you are being extremely rude. And I agree."
"Obadiah!"
Garmadon blinked out of the flashback, stupefied. Obadiah was still cooing over the snowy owl perched on his arm, despite the blood trickling from it due to the raptor's talons. He paid little attention to Garmadon…but he had to know, didn't he? But there was something else—something that got the Master of Darkness' heart pounding with anticipation.
Weren't they in a tree then too? A cypress tree? Surely, this couldn't be the same tree from decades ago. Could it? But then… Garmadon turned around to look at the spot where his head had been previously resting…and damn nearly collapsed. There. Written within the bark of the trunk were the words:
Best friends forever Garmadon & Obadiah
He stared. He stared long and hard at the words. The words might as well have been carved into his heart they hurt so much. Obadiah knew all along. This was no pointless excursion. Obadiah had wanted to help him recall all the memories he had lost. Of course, Garmadon wasn't naïve enough to believe that had been the only reason. He could've been worried about the people here and wanted to ensure their safety. Then why the subterfuge? Why was he so determined to be so churlish?
Lips pursing into a scowl, Garmadon felt torn between gratefulness and frustration. "Obadiah…" When he turned back around to face the other, his storm grey eyes widened when he found Obadiah's face inches away from his own. Vermillion and milky white bore angrily into him.
"Don't you ever look at me like that again. Like your life will just fall apart at the seams if you don't have your stupid memories back," sneered Obadiah. "Stop being so pathetic."
"Pathetic?" Garmadon gritted out, recovering from his shock. "You think it's 'pathetic' that I want back what was taken unjustly? If I had simply just forgotten it would've been different. But my memories—especially the ones of you—are terribly obscured. There is only a void where you should be. And I want you back, Obadiah. Did you not hear me that evening of the Bounty's deck? You should be able to understand that much, at least."
"Shut up! You want to know what good memories are? They are nothing more than reminders of a bygone era. Something you can never get back or return too. All you can do is perish these memories from your mind…because you're too busy trying to survive…" Obadiah's voice went soft, his gaze distant. "…Survive and escape, so that you could enact revenge…only in the end…to be denied that as well…"
Garmadon, woeful and sympathetic, could empathize if only a little bit. He knew what it was like to be imprisoned but the Cursed Realm was significantly worse than the Underworld. In the Underworld, Garmadon could still feel a connection to the world above—could still interact with it to a certain extent. In the Cursed Realm, however, there was only absolute disconnect from what the scrolls taught him. Nothing but lonesome darkness…and monsters. But there was still the looming question of how Obadiah knew he had once been "Dark Lord Garmadon". If only he would talk to him, truly talk to him. In a way, Obadiah was still trapped. His obvious lack of trust in Garmadon hurt the aged master immensely. But surely, Obadiah had to know that he would never do anything to hurt him—except for that one time… Dammit…!
Garmadon didn't try to touch him, knowing Obadiah was hypervigilant against such things and would only move away from him. And Garmadon wanted his old friend close for as long as possible. He wet his lips and gripped a branch in an effort to ground himself. "Obadiah, it may help if you—"
"If I could just give you these memories, I would in a heartbeat," Obadiah interjected, looking away. "They're so useless to me now. I'm useless. What do I truly have to live for now, Garmadon? I have nothing."
"That's not true," Garmadon breathed in a beseeching whisper. "You have me."
With Obadiah in such close proximity, Garmadon didn't miss the flicker of pain that rippled through his profile. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, nor was he expecting for Obadiah to jump down from the tree. Garmadon quickly followed suit and moved to block his path. He glared hard at the man in front of him. "What is it? Do you not believe me? Do you think I'm lying to you?"
Something changed in the vermillion and milky white depths. "No. I believe you, Garmadon."
Garmadon grimaced, a wreath of thorns wrapping around his heart and constricting. "I see. I'm not enough."
"No, you handsome fool." Obadiah stepped closer and Garmadon could only gape when the other initiated contact for once and cupped his face in both of his slender, wrapped hands. But his touch was too warm—almost feverish. "You will always be more than enough for me. It's what you're offering that isn't."
Garmadon's brain was on overload from what he was hearing and feeling. How could his friendship not be enough? And why was Obadiah feverish? And why was his heart pounding? Garmadon swallowed, trying to get his thoughts in order. However, it was proving to be difficult as Obadiah's hands were caressing him so softly. So lost was he in the feeling that he simply forgot to voice his thoughts and could only gaze gormlessly into Obadiah's eyes.
"But this is of no concern of yours." When Obadiah's hands fell away, the spell was broken and Garmadon blinked back into reality—into the pain and melancholy exuding from his old friend. "Please leave me be. I wish to be alone for a while."
Garmadon opened his mouth, but alas, words failed him, as his tongue felt leaden and uncooperative. Obadiah took his stilted silence for acceptance and stepped around him. Garmadon whirled around and could only watch him go. Obadiah left silent and scentless. But finally, Garmadon could actually feel something from him, but then that too disappeared into the ether. And the snow continued to fall.
*~XxX~*
Although the pho provided a filling and savory meal, Brad hadn't been able to consume it all. He had forfeited the rest to Cole, who had happily taken the offering and scarfed it down along with the rest of his many dishes. Brad wrapped his arms around himself to help stave off the cold to no real avail and shivered. He swore the guy was a bottomless pit. He honestly had no idea where all that food went because the black ninja was built like a mountain.
Not that Lloyd and Jay weren't impressive in their own right. Brad rolled his eyes at the thought of the former. For it was because of the green ninja that he had stormed out of Colt's Neck to begin with. It was like the blond was just trying to find ways to needle him at this point. At first, he thought Lloyd's overprotectiveness was endearing. Now, it was just grating. Brad wasn't a newborn fawn, he had common sense and was aware of his surroundings. But ever since that incident in New Ninjago City (or rather what was left of it), Lloyd was both walking on eggshells around him and wanting to shield him from the world.
Brad scowled. How was he supposed to get stronger with Lloyd insisting on helicoptering around him? Well, he wasn't right now. Why would he after Brad spewed vitriol at him. The aqua-eyed Marked One ran a hand down his face with an exasperated growl. I shouldn't have said that… I really shouldn't have said that… He stopped and looked around to get his bearings. He had traveled some distance from Colt's Neck and was now somewhere around the residential area if the line of quaint little wood cabins decorated with Christmas lights and other holiday paraphernalia were anything to go by.
It was still early afternoon, as the sun was still doing its job in providing a little warmth from winter's breath, but Brad's long-sleeved turtleneck, black jeans, and snow boots could only do so much. He cursed the Seven Deities for stealing/destroying what little belongings he had aboard the Bounty. Now, he was back to square one.
Brad came up upon another young man—possibly around his age—shoveling snow in front of one of the houses, his wind-burnt face pulled into a taut line of exertion as he cleared snow drifts from cobblestone sidewalks. He offered what he hoped was a small grin of encouragement as he walked by, though it felt more like a grimace. Apparently, it was as the young man called out to him worriedly. "Hey, you okay, man? Ya look mad at the world."
Brad stopped short and brushed a few wayward strands of his long, jet-black hair back behind his ear. "Oh—uh, yeah. I'm fine. Don't mind me."
The other young man cocked his head to the side with a raised eyebrow, seemingly giving Brad a skeptical once over. Brad noticed, unlike him, the young man was dressed appropriately snug to ward off the cold. And the young man voiced this thought. "Kinda hard not to when yer lips are turnin' blue."
"C'mon, I'm not that cold," Brad shot back with an edge of irritation, and the young man held up a hand that wasn't gripping the handle of a shovel.
"Sorry, sorry. Don't mean to nag. But, uh, if ya want—I have a spare coat you can have. It's a little old but it'll still get the job done in keepin' ya warm."
Brad furrowed his brow a bit as he stared at the stranger in front of him. He seemed sincere enough. After all, it's not like he was inviting him inside his home. He just wanted to give him a coat, which, admittingly, Brad could use. A moment of deliberation more and Brad nodded. "Okay. Thanks."
"Cool. Be right back." And the young man dropped his shovel and ran inside the cabin. Brad blew inside the palms of his cupped hands. Despite what he had said earlier, he was really starting to feel the chilling winds. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long, and the young man returned with a dark teal heavy coat. "Here ya go. If ya don't mind me askin'—where ya headin' off to?"
Brad muttered another "Thanks" and slipped the coat on. He felt instant relief at the warmth it provided, as it was good quality and even had a fur-lined hoody. The zipper was busted, unfortunately, but no matter. He stuck his freezingly numb hands into the pockets and felt more than content. He looked to the friendly-faced young man and finally registered the question he had asked. "To the Appaloosas," Brad answered. "Just wanted to go somewhere to clear my head for a bit."
The young man chuckled good-naturedly. "That'd be the right place then. Hey, mind if I come with ya? Me da runs the place and I was just about to go see if he be needin' any help."
Brad looked back behind the young man towards the discarded shovel. "Weren't you just shoveling snow?"
"Oh, I can finish that any time," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Me da is much more important. And I'm sure walkin' with you would make the trek much more fun."
Not seeing a reason to refuse, Brad shrugged. "Okay, but I really don't feel much like talking."
They started off down the road with the young man more or less feeling the silence. Brad would comment now and then with either short answers or a simple head shake. The young man didn't seem to mind, though, and talked about anything and everything—from how the heavy snowfall was godsent to not looking forward to seeing his niece for the holidays. "She's so spoiled, man!" He blurted, gesticulating with exaggerated movements. "Me sis thinks she can do no wrong and it's messin' her up in the long run."
"Have you tried talking to her?" Brad contributed with a veneer of interest.
The young man huffed. "Tried as much as a monarch butterfly migration. Delusional that one. Can't get through worth nothing."
"If it gets too serious, you may have to get your father involved too. Family intervention and all that."
The young man pulled a surprised face. "Thought that was only used for drugs and alcohol problems."
Brad shook his head, grinning some. "No. It can used for a plethora of problems."
The young man's eyes brightened. "Well, thanks then! I'll run it by me da when we get to the ranch."
Brad looked out to the distant open land. They had pretty much left the village behind, and the surrounding woodlands were becoming more prevalent. "How far away are we from the ranch?"
"Just about a mile or so. Oh hey, let's take a short cut through the woods here. We might get derailed by that tree pile up if we stay on the main road."
"Tree pile up?"
The young man nodded. "Yea, that meteor shower brought with it a nasty little storm that tore up some trees near the ranch. They've been working on clearing it out all day." He pointed to a beaten path that somewhat forked from the road they were currently on, leading deeper past the tree line. "That way. As long as yer not allergic to heavy pine spice, ya should be okay."
Brad stalled, feeling a bit vexed about the situation. Sure, the young man was friendly, but he was still a literal stranger. Brad licked his lips, his pulse spiking. "L-Let's not," he decided, with a small stammer. "If people have been cleaning up the trees from the road all day, then maybe they'll be done by now."
The young man didn't look put off at all and simply nodded. "True. Let's keep goin' then."
Brad slowly released a breath he didn't realize he was holding and continued walking. When the young man began talking again, he started to feel a little foolish. Why was he feeling so paranoid? It's not like the guy was giving off bad vibes or anything. But maybe he would be feeling more comfortable if he knew how to properly defend himself. Like Lloyd does… Brad closed his eyes. …I should really apologize when I see him again…
As Brad began to drift away into his own head, he was rudely brought back to the present when something sharp poked at his back. A large, cold hand immediately covered his mouth, and the sharp object was pressed more firmly against his back. Then, a voice. The same voice that's been pleasantly speaking with him for nearly an hour now, was suddenly low and sinister. "Turn and keep walkin'."
Unable to do much else, Brad complied, and he was more or less pushed into the woods. His thoughts ran a mile a minute and his heart felt like it would burst from his chest from fear and anxiety. Now, he truly felt foolish. How could he let his guard down around a stranger. What was he thinking!? His eyes darted around, looking for anyone or anything that could save him from whatever dire consequences he was about to face. But there was nothing. Nothing but a frost-ridden forest. "Scream and I'll gut ya like a fish right here."
The menacing young man removed his hand from Brad's mouth and forced his back up against a tree. He stared headlong into the dark eyes of his assailant. "What do you want? I don't have any money."
"Think I don't know that?" The menacing young man smirked. "Nah, don't want that anyway. Not from a pretty little thing like you." With the knife still positioned near Brad's throat, he started fiddling with the belt of his jeans with the other hand. "Yer gonna suck me off. Ya'know, since ya don't feel like talkin'. Then, well, you can guess what else."
Everyone has a breaking point. An instant when cognitive reason and logic dissipates, and a deluge of raw emotion floods the system. Brad had reached his breaking point before when Petubast was killed. And he was about to reach it again. With fury and repulsion acting as his only anchors, he attacked. He grabbed the knife by the blade and with the added leverage kneed his assailant as hard as he could in the crotch. The menacing young man grunted and stumbled back, clutching his assaulted genitals. But the knife was still in his hand, now red with Brad's blood. Aqua eyes boiling with rage and body surging with adrenaline, Brad used his bloody hand to deliver a hard punch to the menacing young man's face, causing him to fall to his knees on the ground.
With fiery contempt of his own, the menacing young man stabbed at Brad with the knife. Brad didn't actually feel it connect but it had, piercing along his stomach and quickly staining the bottom of his shirt red. In retaliation, Brad delivered a straight kick to the menacing young man's face, finally knocking him flat on his back and dislodging the knife from his hand.
However, Brad wasn't finished. Although the young man was no longer a threat to him, he continued to pummel him with everything he had. He kicked him repeatedly in the middle and when that wasn't enough stomped his foot down onto his face. "Stupid sonnuva bitch! Goddamn fucker!" With each expletive came another kick and another stomp until the young man's face became bloody and bloated with bruises.
"Please…stop… Don't…kill me…"
Somehow throughout the rage, fear, and desperation, Brad heard the weak plea from the young man's bloody mouth. The young man gurgled, gasped and coughed up blood that wetted his chin. A few teeth were even spat up. And Brad stopped. Eyes wide, he stumbled away until his back hit the tree once more, chest heaving with laborious pants. His vision was so blurred that he could just barely make out the insufferable lump of color from which the battered young man lie amongst the white. It took a moment for him to realize he was crying. But once he did, he couldn't stop. Tilting his head back, Brad sobbed loudly to the heavens above and the forest around.
His vision swam and his stomach hurt. He couldn't think. He didn't know what to do. Am…am I gonna die…?
"Sit down, Petunia."
A voice as smooth and soft as wild honey dripping from a tree called to the distressed Marked One and unbidden, his legs shook before collapsing underneath him. There was someone in front of him, but his vision was so distorted that he couldn't quite make them out. "Uh—ergh… Hurgh!"
"Shhhhh… You're alright. Move your hand. I need to heal you. Huh. This is gonna hurt. Here. Open your mouth and bite down." A piece of tree bark was shoved into Brad's mouth, and he bit down instinctively. "Deep breath now." More tears fell but he managed to comply. Then, he felt the hem of his bloody shirt being pushed up and then a tremendous pressure pressed against his stomach. Then, came the pain. It felt like an ungodly amalgamation of getting a spinal tap and a clawed hand made of hot coals scratching at his guts. Brad screamed until his lungs burned. Though it was muffled by the slab of bark in his mouth. He writhed and thrashed where he sat, his hands reaching out to find purchase on something.
"Don't curl in on yourself. I need to see. And stop convulsing—here. Oh. Never mind. It's done. It appears that despite subduing your element with the Seal of Yggdrasil, your Mana is still running rampant to a certain degree. To the point that you have an imperfect form of accelerated healing. Nifty… And, let me just wrap your hand in a vulnerary salve and done… Oh, and you can open your eyes now."
Brad's eyes snapped open, and he came face to face with—albeit blurry—Obadiah. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed through his tears. The aged Master of Nature was looking as unenthused as ever. Brad spat out the bark and shakily pointed his finger. "He—He tried to—"
"I know what that disgusting sybarite tried to do. I saw the whole thing. Now, don't give me that look. I wasn't going to let anything happen to you, Petunia. Well, something did happen to you, but that's beside the point. I wanted to see how you handled yourself. After all, no one has the luxury of having allies by their sides every time they're in trouble. You must be able to fend for yourself in this unforgivingly cruel world. Act and safeguard your own life, for you only have the one to spare. And…"
There was an infinitesimal change in Obadiah's features then. One so small that Brad likely wouldn't have caught it if he wasn't hanging on every word that came from the elder's mouth. Not happiness per se. More along the lines of mild interest. "And…" he repeated, "…what you lack in finesse, you make up for in raw brutality."
"Is that bad?"
"No."
"Is that good?"
"No. You only proved how human you are. Brutality is inherent to humanity. And I'm sure you've been able to ascertain by now that humanity can be…repulsively brutal."
Brad deflated. "So, it is bad."
Obadiah chortled. "Why did you spare him?"
"I…" Brad gave pause and frowned. "I don't know—I guess because he asked me to."
"So, if he didn't plead for his life, you would've killed him?"
Brad looked at Obadiah. There was something about his line of questioning that didn't feel like an interrogation. It was natural. Nonjudgmental. And Brad relaxed further in the face of it. He answered candidly. "Probably not." Obadiah lifted an eyebrow and Brad shrugged. "I was getting tired."
Obadiah's face scrunched into something bitter. "Pesky fatigue and atrophy. I can empathize. When I was vomited out of the Cursed Realm, my body was so weak and emaciated I… No. Never mind. You'll get better. And when you do, the world will be your oyster and all that. Now then," he rose to his feet and surprisingly, offered a hand to Brad, "shall we tend to the trash?"
Brad had many questions after Obadiah's mini-diatribe but didn't want to risk aggravating the elder man. Thus, he kept his curiosity to himself and took the offered hand with his uninjured one, and was deftly pulled to his feet. "If we have to."
He followed Obadiah over the motionless body lying in the snow. Both stood over the prone form of the young man with less than sympathetic expressions. "Huh. I can tell just by looking at it that you broke his nose," Obadiah said, brandishing his kiseru and taking a drag from it. "Well done."
Brad couldn't help but smile a bit at the praise. It's been quite some time since he'd received any. However, it dropped when a thought occurred to him. "Are you gonna heal him?"
Obadiah tilted his head in a faux pas of deliberation. "Hmm…should I?"
Brad balled his fists. "No, you shouldn't. He should suffer for what he tried to do to me. Every action has a consequence, and he should have to deal with his."
"Beautifully said. Some self-righteous fools would try to tell you otherwise—that vengeance is meaningless. That it begets nothing but hatred and a possible cycle of violence. But the fact of the matter is, those fools do not walk in your skin. They do not feel what you feel. Empathy begets compassion and understanding. An understanding that that person must deal with their trials and tribulations in life and grow as an individual in their own way."
Obadiah looked at him and Brad felt enthralled by the elder's intense stare of vermillion and blind white. "No matter what, Petunia, stay true to yourself. Don't ever let anyone try to mold you into their image. Walk your own path, even if you must walk alone."
"I…I will. I promise."
"Good. Now then." Obadiah pulled a long thorn out of his plentiful sleeve. Brad scrutinized the plant, for he had never seen a needle quite like it before. The length of it was a sallow yellow until it faded at the point into an off-white. Obadiah squeezed the stem, and a liquid began to drip.
"What is that?" Brad asked.
"I would kill this man if he were an outsider of Appaloosa Wood. But because he is not, he must receive justice from his fellow villagers. His name is Thadeus Morphew—a pathological liar and his silver tongue must be tamed. And this, Petunia, is what will make sure it is. An isolated alkaloid constituent from Scopolia carniolica's dried rhizome."
Brad's eyes widened. "Wait…you mean scopolamine? Truth serum? But I thought that was just a hoax."
Obadiah's grin was bordering on shark-like. "Well, thanks to yours truly, it is now very real and very fun." Without further clarification, Obadiah bent down and stuck the needle into the unconscious young man's neck. He barely twitched. "There. That should take effect within the next few minutes. And as much as it repulses me to carry this bastard within Yggdrasil's immortal roots, it can't be helped." He paused, his fingers tapping against the length of his kiseru. "No. Actually, that's perfect. The display of power will help keep the villagers in check. Just in case anyone tries to get stupid."
"You think they would absolve him of responsibility?"
Sultry red wisps accompanied Obadiah's next words. "These are good people, but you just never know when dealing with humanity. Sometimes they refuse to acknowledge the truth, even when it's staring at them dead in the eye." Obadiah scrutinized Brad once more. "By the way, Petunia, where did you procure that coat? You didn't have one earlier."
Brad gasped and hurriedly took the jacket off as if it were covered in venomous snakes. He then all but threw it at the young man on the ground. "Oh gods, he gave it to me," he hissed, disgusted. "I thought he was nice, and he played me." Cold winds swept through, and Brad wrapped his arms around himself, back to where he started. "I was so stupid. So fuckin' stupid."
Brad closed his eyes and shivered, both from the dropping temperatures and the dark thoughts permeating his mind. A part of him still couldn't believe what had almost happened to him. His mind's eye depicted what could've happened and his stomach jolted. He heaved and vomited, dispelling the partially digested food his body desperately needed. He felt wretched. Even if he did fight back and managed to incapacitate his attacker, he had still been wounded. And without Obadiah, he most likely would've bled out.
He truly had escaped death by the skin of his teeth.
Warmth suddenly suffused his body and Brad's eyes snapped open. It was Obadiah's long kimono jacket draped over his shoulders and the aspiring Master of Mana lifted his startled gaze to the elder. Obadiah didn't look at him. "Albeit harsh, you've grown stronger from the lesson it taught. You stared adversity in the face, and you survived. That's what's important. Well done, Petunia. It bears repeating."
Brad fought back the incoming onslaught of tears, although a few did slip from his eyes and down his golden cheeks. He stood up straighter and a truly grateful smile touched his chapping lips. Obadiah moved away and Brad stopped short from calling out to him, his aqua eyes catching sight of what could only be Obadiah's tail, for it was a long, muscled tendril that matched the color of his skin that came from behind him, though his incredibly long and wavy salt and pepper tresses obscured much of his back.
Brad watched dumbfounded and transfixed as it lashed and arced up behind him akin to a squirrel. It was then that Obadiah's voice reached him. "I understand if you're uncomfortable. The sight of monsters can be horrifying."
Brad wiped his eyes and frowned. He went to stand at Obadiah's side. "No. The only monster here is this trash at our feet." He looked up at the taller man. "I'm ready when you are."
Vermillion and blind, milky white shifted to regard him. "Very well." Obadiah swiftly clasped his hands together, steepling his fingers. His two indexes aligned and pointed towards the heavens. Obadiah summoned Yggdrasil, the world tree and it came. The frozen earth rumbled underfoot like thunder over the land. Brad gaped in awe as beautifully thick tree roots of emboldened bronze and umber lifted them from the ground, including the unconscious culprit. Once the bloody knife was fetched as well, they left the seclusion of the frosted forest and returned to the main road aboard Yggdrasil.
It was time to return to Appaloosa Wood and tell all that had transpired between Brad and Thadeus.
