Here we go! Another chapter in which Fairy Tail Luck continues to make itself known and the just-as-infamous Fairy Tail Recklessness comes into play! Also, please note that there is a warning in the Author's Note. Just in case anyone wants to read that sort of thing.

Review Response: Dear Hazel tree09, hi! Thank you, I really appreciate your compliments. I would hope that the chapters aren't too short. They're a minimum of fifteen pages each, usually averaging around twenty! Funnily enough, I actually didn't like Bickslow until I started plotting out this story. I wasn't even going to include him that much and was going to make Wren the sibling figure of another character when Bickslow pranced in and ruined all my carefully arranged plot notes on the matter. But ... he kinda grew on me, so here he is! Glad to know I'm writing him well. Thank you again for the compliments and I hope you enjoy the update!

Dear mun3litKnight, hello! Thank you! So glad it has caught your interest! Here is an update as desired!

Author's Note: So. Warning. There is a cliffhanger in this chapter. Personally, I don't see the need to put a warning about that up here, but some people get agitated when such things are not forewarned. So, here it is! I ... think I covered everything pertinent. Which isn't much. Anyway, onward to the chapter!

Copyright Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or any references made in this story. The only things I own are my OCs and the plot.

Chapter Ten: Escort - Part 3

Buildings, buildings taller than anything previously remembered. Sounds never heard before, devices unimaginable. It was like a dream and a nightmare and a hallucination all at once. People were talking, brushing shoulders and bumping skin without caring about the contact. It was like drowning, only in people instead of water. It was like burning, only with sound and not fire. Everywhere, everything was an overload of sensory data. Yet behind it all, there was one fact that kept pushing against the senses, slamming and screaming for attention above any other thought.

Everything was alive.

The world, dream? suddenly muted and without conscious thought, the view suddenly changed. A door that towered overhead, its engraved surface reaching up to the sky and … a figure. A figure turning and reaching out and-

And suddenly reality returned with a pulse of heat and a whisper of true sound that shattered the delicately distorted mirror that was the dream.

.

.

.

Rihanna was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, but she didn't know how she knew. All she was sure of was that this was a dream and, for some reason, she was sure that it was going to turn into a nightmare.

It started out innocently enough. She was writing something, her well-loved pencil scratching softly against the paper to form symbols and letters that she couldn't make out despite her close proximity. It was vaguely frustrating, because she knew that if she could just get a clear look at them, she would understand what she was writing. But the words were oddly blurred and out of focus, like a memory that had mostly faded away instead of something she was doing right that instant.

From behind, there was suddenly a voice, old and familiar but frustratingly indistinct. She knew what he was saying, but she couldn't grasp it. The meaning of his words floated just out of her reach even as her body turned on its own to briefly reply to the indecipherable statement, lips quirking briefly in a friendly but dry smile before turning back to her work and resuming her writing.

Then the voice said something else and the world threatened to crash down around her ears. She whirled, papers flying to the floor as she stared incredulously at the speaker, unable to formulate a reply as he said something else, something even more horrible than his previous statement. The world wavered, teetering on the edge of something she didn't want to acknowledge, just one breath away from crumbling around her ears and leaving her desolate and broken. Her magic twisted inside her, tensing and bubbling but she shoved it down, because she had to stay calm. He couldn't have meant that, couldn't have actually said what she thought he said, so there was no need to rouse her magic. Right?

But the words were repeated, loud and irrefutable and undeniable and so horribly unavoidable. She shook her head frantically, he had to be wrong. He had to, because there was no alternative. Because she couldn't let him be right. Because if he was right that would mean her world, the one thing that made it worth living was gone and she couldn't let that happen and no-no-no-no!

Her world slipped off the edge, horrible realization slammed through her. The weight of the world, of her failure, crushed down on her until she could no longer bear the weight or hold it back. She could feel herself snapping under the pressure, her hands flying to her temples in pain while her magic built and built and built despite her best efforts to hold it in. Grief snapped the last restraints and her magic lunged wildly, warping and twisting until it could no longer be controlled and instead rushed out in a flood and-

Rihanna sat up with a jerk, her eyes wild and unfocused, palms reaching up to clutch her temples while her lungs fought to take in enough air. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the panic that was coursing through her veins, to avoid seeing the horrible thing that she was certain had been about to unfold. Rihanna was only dimly aware of the rustling of fabric to her left, of other people nearby until familiar hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer so that she was being clutched to a small chest, "Imōto! You woke up! You woke up!" One of the hands released her shoulders and stroked her hair clumsily but soothingly, "Imōto? Wren? Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Slowly, achingly, Rihanna came back to herself, came back to the knowledge of where she was and who was tightly clinging to her. Her breathing began to slow to something below hyperventilation and she risked opening her eyes. What…? What happened? What was that dream? Or … nightmare? It was so vivid. But why was I asleep in the first place?

Memories of what had happened before her nightmare came crawling back and she blinked. Oh right, I remember now. There was that weird muteness and then bandits attacked and- She jerked upright again, her eyes searching her surroundings frantically. Her gaze finally settled on Mest, who was leaning against a large rock, watching her with a concerned expression on his face.

Rihanna exhaled in relief, Mest's okay. Thank goodness. Shifting a bit, she looked up at the concerned boy hugging her tightly, so is Bickslow. Oh thank the stars. Tentatively, Rihanna hugged Bickslow back in reassurance, nodding a few times to his near constant demand to know if she was alright or not. I'm fine, I just really want to know what happened back there with my Shadow Magic. Our location would be nice too.

When she had finally convinced Bickslow to release her from his loving near-death grip, Rihanna took careful stock of where they were. They were still in the wilderness as far as she could tell. More specifically, they were in a large clearing with a few large rocks scattered around it and tree roots stubbornly trying to work their way further into the clearing that just as stubbornly denied their presence in favor of grass, flowers, and four people. Wait, four? Rihanna's gaze settled on their fourth member and she stared. Conrad hunched his shoulders at her heavy, questioning gaze.

His once fine clothes were now dirty and torn in several places, his blond hair was streaked with the brown of dirt and the occasional spot of green from the twigs snagged in his tangled locks. His face was no better off in the cleanliness department, though thankfully he had no twigs sticking out of his cheeks or any other such gruesome thought.

All in all, he looked much less like a noble's son and more like the runaway he had repeatedly attempted to become. Watching him carefully, Rihanna pointed at Conrad and whistled inquiringly to Bickslow. She could practically hear Bickslow's death glare, though admittedly, that was probably because Pappa and Pippi had a tendency to growl whenever Bickslow became angry enough. Bickslow finally said something that wasn't an inquiry about Rihanna's health, "He followed me when I went to find you."

Conrad snapped moodily from his corner of the clearing, "You mean when you ran away and let my brother get kidnapped!"

Bickslow's voice rang painfully in her ears as he shouted quite literally over her head, "We were outnumbered, everything was mute, and you can't fight! Besides, you were running too!"

Conrad started to say something else when Mest suddenly cut in, his voice harsher and colder than she'd ever heard it before, "Both of you be quiet."

Conrad's mouth clicked shut sharply and Rihanna followed his lead in staring at Mest. Mest leaned forward, wincing slightly at the motion before speaking again, "We will gain nothing from arguing. In fact, you just might lure the bandits here with all of your shouting." Rihanna felt more than saw the two boys flinch obediently at Mest's quiet yet harsh tone.

Mest shifted his gaze to her and Rihanna braced subconsciously for a scolding of some kind. Instead, Mest asked softly, "You were the one who got me out of there somehow, right Wren-chan?" Rihanna nodded once and Mest smiled weakly at her as he rubbed his bruised arm, "Thank you then, I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't. But are you really alright? When I came to, you were unconscious. Even Bickslow couldn't wake you once he got here."

Rihanna nodded again to indicate the she was alright, but internally she was puzzling, I was unconscious? What did I do? How did we all get here? Did Bickslow or Mest carry me here while they retreated? But Mest doesn't really look in any condition to carry someone while running, or walking for that matter, and Bickslow wouldn't be so argumentative if he was exhausted from carrying me around.

Rihanna shook her head in frustration at her own thoughts, there wasn't time for pondering things like that. What mattered was that Orazio and Spellmeyer-san's men weren't there, so that meant they were still in the clutches of Ulrich and his bandits. Ulrich was going to kill Mest earlier, what if he-? She crushed that line of thought, she couldn't assume that the guards were dead. At the very least, they'd need someone to confirm who's son they'd just kidnapped and where to send the ransom demand, right?

Gently prying free of Bickslow's grip, Rihanna turned around so that she could fully communicate with the only person she could comprehensively "talk" to. Using whistles, facial expressions, and hand movements, Rihanna quickly asked "What do we do now? We need to get the others."

Bickslow chewed his bottom lip and shrugged, "I don't know. It only took one of them to knock out Mest and we barely escaped them after you hit them with that Shadow Shockwave…"

Mest asked, "What did she say, Bickslow-kun?"

Bickslow looked briefly away from Rihanna, "She asked how we were going to rescue the others from the bandits."

Conrad snorted, "Looked like a bunch of whistling and flailing to me."

Bickslow rounded on Conrad, "Jus' 'cause Wren can't talk like most people do, doesn't mean she can't talk at all! I understand her!" Thank you Bickslow. Conrad, one more conversation-derailing remark like that and I will smack you with my bare hands. Especially since my magic is on the depleted side.

Mest brought the boys to heel again, "Focus you two. Wren-chan has a point. We need to rescue the others and for that we need a plan. Preferably, we'll wait until I've recovered enough magic to teleport back to the guild and get backup-"

Bickslow interrupted heatedly, his tiki dolls flying a frenzied circuit in the air, "No! This is our mission! We can handle it! Besides, it'll take too long for you to explain everything, for Makarov-jiji to pick out who goes, and for you all to get back before the bandits go to ground! We need to attack while we still have a chance to find them!"

Rihanna bit down on her automatic negative reaction, taking time to think it over while Bickslow, Conrad, and Mest continued to argue. Bickslow … makes a lot of sense, actually. It makes sense that they would look for us at least for a little while in order to prevent loose ends, but the bandits won't stay in the area for very long and who knows were their hideout is. Depending on how long it's been, it might already be too late to catch them before they reach it, but going back for help would just give them more time to disappear somewhere.

She scowled to herself, but on the other hand, we're all just kids here. Physically, anyway, and that's what counts at the moment. Mest is the oldest and he'd only around fourteen. Three kids going up against armed and trained adult bandits … not good odds. At all. Even if we weren't outnumbered.

Something Bickslow was saying caught her attention and she tuned back in to the argument, "So what? You can teleport! All you need to do is teleport in there, grab the prisoners, and poof out again!"

Mest ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "It isn't that simple, Bickslow! There's a limit to how many people I can teleport at one time and a big part of that is that I have to be touching the people I'm teleporting with me! Even if I could get them all out at one time, I wouldn't be able to go far and those bandits would be on our heels in minutes!"

Bickslow made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, "So we make a distraction! Wren and I can lure 'em away while you go in and get the prisoners out."

Mest looked scandalized, "I'm not letting two children do something that much dangerous!"

Bickslow snorted, "Please, Wren and I have had to get out of way worse situations than a few bandits chasing us through a forest with lots of hiding places. Right, Imōto?" Rihanna blinked once, Bickslow … actually has a point. It's a risky plan, but it could actually work. A moment later she contemplated slapping herself, why am I even considering this? I should be with agreeing with Mest on taking the safer approach!

The answer was actually simple, she didn't want her hesitance to get anyone killed. She'd seen how easily the head bandit had decided to kill Mest, hesitating would only give him time to make that choice about the others. Not to mention it would be more time that poor Orazio would have to spend as a captive of the bandits. I must be crazy. Looking up, Rihanna thumbed at Bickslow and nodded firmly. Mest looked like he was fighting off a headache as he groaned, "Not you too, Wren-chan … you're supposed to be the sensible one."

I am, which is why we're making a plan first. Rihanna communicated that sentiment to Bickslow, who then translated for Mest and Conrad. As the four reluctantly gathered around and started to make a plan, it became rapidly evident that Conrad was an unintentional problem. They had no idea what to do with him and he refused to hide somewhere until they'd pulled off the rescue.

Mest seemed ready to start pulling his own hair out in exasperation as he explained, "Conrad-kun, I know you want to rescue your brother, but you'll just be in the way. This is a stupid thing to do even when the three of us have magic to help us, a boy like you without any-"

Conrad cut in, his fists curled tight with frustration, "But I do!"

A startled silence fell over the group until Bickslow's eyes glowed and he snapped, "What did you say?"

Conrad was stubbornly glaring at the ground, "I have magic. I've been studying since I was seven. I'm n-not very good with it yet, but I've been practicing as much as I can…"

Bickslow sat back a bit on his heels, looking vaguely impressed as his eyes faded back to their normal color, "He's telling the truth."

Rihanna cocked her head to one side, why didn't he tell us that before? Mest unintentionally voiced her question for her and Conrad seemed to bristle like a miffed puppy, "Because Tō-san doesn't want me to become a mage. He says that I have to be a businessman like him and someday take over his business. He says I'm just in a phase and that I'll grow out of it. But I won't! I want to become a mage and join a guild! S-so I started going to the library so I could read their books about magic. When Tō-san found out, he banned me from going to the library and started ordering books for me instead."

Conrad stopped bristling and seemed to sink in on himself, "That's when I started sneaking out of the mansion. I'm good at it too, so good that Tō-san decided to send me to a boarding school to keep me busy. Orazio is going too because he actually wants to go, and I was hoping that if I got away while on the road … I could go join a guild…"

Well. I … honestly didn't see that coming. Rihanna rubbed her forehead with a hand, I'm honestly not sure who to be more angry at, Conrad's father for actively trying to discourage his son's dreams, or Conrad for going about this so stupidly. Why didn't he just wait until he was eighteen? Then he could have gone off and joined any guild he wanted to and Spellmeyer-san wouldn't have been able to do a thing about it. Then again, I suppose eighteen seems like forever to wait when you're his age… Wonder why he never used his magic while trying to get away? Unless he wanted to keep it a secret from us.

Bickslow sounded less aggressive and more curious for once as he asked, "What kind of magic are you learning?"

Conrad glanced at Bickslow in surprise before answering, "Light Magic. I-it was the easiest to find books on. I can't really do anything with it though. Most of the books only had general use spells like hand flashlights and entertainment tricks like sparkles or tiny firecrackers…" Flashlights, sparkles, and firecrackers? Rihanna's eyes widened, wait! That's perfect!

Mest was nodding slowly in sympathy, "I see. Well, that explains a lot and we will certain be having a talk about your desire to become a mage later. Still, I don't think your magic would be of any help-" Rihanna interrupted Mest, whistling sharply to get everyone's attention. As the others' gazes all swung to her, Rihanna pointed at Conrad and mimed holding a flashlight. Her pantomime was met with blank looks and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

Turning to Bickslow, she managed to clumsily convey, "How bright is his magic flashlight and how fast can he turn it on?" Bickslow, puzzled, relayed her question to Conrad. Conrad shrugged slowly, "Really bright. I practiced it the most, used it to read in the dark and stuff like that. As for how long it takes to start the spell … a second or two maybe? I've gotten good at that one at least, the others take more time."

Rihanna worked that over in her mind, a crazy idea blooming until she felt herself grinning crazily, That just might work! Leaning forward, Rihanna began whistling and gesturing, drawing simple pictures in the dirt to help get her ideas across. By the end of it, their mixed little group may not have had a plan worthy of the name "strategy", but they at least had a collection of ideas just crazy enough to work in sync.

Lorenzo was having a bad day. First, Ulrich-kachō had woken them up before dawn and set them trekking through the woods in the mostly dark hours. All so that they could set up an ambush on a carriage their boss had been forewarned would be coming with two brats just perfect for ransoming. Now, the thought of getting more jewels was an amazing idea and something Lorenzo was normally all for, but stumbling about in the dark, with tree roots and brambles to trip over and be poked by was not a good omen for starting the day.

Then, naturally, their intended targets just had to be late to the ambush, to the point where Ulrich-kachō had ordered them to move down the road and look for the wayward carriage. They had found the carriage eventually, with Ulrich-kachō using his magic to ensure complete surprise on the side of their targets, only to discover that the nobleman had hired a mage to protect his brats.

Admittedly, one mage who was caught off guard and disorientated because of suddenly going deaf wasn't that hard to handle, especially with Ulrich-kachō there, but then it had turned out to be not just one mage, but three, including a little shadow-user brat who had smacked Lorenzo repeatedly with his fellow bandits and successfully broken Ulrich-kachō's nose before getting caught.

Then, before the brat could be put in her place, the third had hazed them from the woods with lasers that really hurt when they made contact and proving impossible to pinpoint. Then the shadow brat had knocked them all flying with a giant shockwave and disappeared with the first mage, followed quickly by the third they never quite managed to spot.

Now, to top it all off, Ulrich-kachō was furious that they had only managed to secure one of the nobleman's brats and insisted that some of them keep combing the woods for the escaped mages while everyone else waited for their resident sadist to force the non-mage guards to reveal where the second child was.

Don't see why. One kid is enough to ransom. We don't need to get both when it's this much trouble. If I was boss, I'd say that one is enough and get to demanding jewels already. However, for better or worse, Lorenzo was not the boss and so was currently traipsing through the woods, slashing moodily at any bush that seemed to look at him wrong, searching for mage kids who were probably already long gone.

Something flickered in the corner of his vision and Lorenzo looked up, startled. For a moment, there was nothing, then he saw a flickering silhouette of someone hunching farther behind a tree about ten yards ahead of him. Lorenzo stared hard at the elbow sticking out just a bit from behind the tree and then sneered, maybe I'll get a chance at payback after all. Subconsciously adjusting the neon cuffs of his favorite overcoat, Lorenzo stalked forward quietly, intending to take his prey off guard.

When he was only a foot or so away from the tree, he bent his legs into a ready stance, sword coming up in preparation to lunge and catch the hiding person unawares. With a sudden yell, Lorenzo barreled around the tree, sword point flashing out to pin a hapless shoulder to the tree-

Only to yelp in surprise when his sword buried itself into tree bark where a shoulder should have been, but where there was actually no person at all. What the-? Just as he was forced to a jarring stop by the thick wood of the tree resisting his sword, bright light beamed into his eyes from below, momentarily blinding him with its brightness. Releasing his sword hilt, Lorenzo's hands flashed up instinctively to cover his abused retina, his heels catching on something just as he stumbled backward and destroying the last vestiges of his balance.

Lorenzo went crashing to the ground with a yelp, spots still dancing behind his eyelids and his head protesting to such an abrupt impact with the ground. Something heavy landed on him, knocking the air out of his lungs with a rush. His head pounding, eyes still beset with imaginary spots of color, and now totally breathless, Lorenzo could give no struggle to the young boy straddled on top of him, holding his own sword point to his throat.

The boy smiled thinly at him and Lorenzo wondered dazedly if it was his abused eyes that made it seem as if the boy's eyes were glowing an eerie green, "Listen up, manuke, 'cause I'm only going to ask this once. Where is your base?"

Lorenzo found the words slipping out of his mouth without his consent, a haze settling over his thoughts that prevented him from remembering why he shouldn't say where the base was. The haze grew thicker the moment he had finished relaying the required information, the boy's sharp voice being the only clear thing in his mind, "Now go to sleep."

Lorenzo's world went black.

Bickslow climbed off of the unconscious man, trying to suppress the feeling of revulsion inside him that made his gut roll and prevented him from looking the others in the eye. I had to do it. I had to. He deserved it for attacking us anyway. Sliding his eyes to Mest's shoes, he grunted, "That good enough for you?" The words felt thick on his tongue, heavily burdened with anger that he felt, not toward Mest, but toward himself.

The reply came completely devoid of the fear or disgust Bickslow expected to hear, "That's perfect. Just give me to the count of ten to get into position and then start." Bickslow looked up in surprise at how calm and undisturbed Mest sounded at what he had just witnessed, but Mest was already gone, teleported away to get into position for his part of their hastily scratched-together plan.

Wren was already counting, her fingers steadily unfolding from her palm with roughly three seconds in between each finger. She didn't seem disturbed in the slightest at what Bickslow had just done, but then again, she knew what he could do, carried a burden similar to his. Conrad broke the silence that had fallen over them, his voice shaking slightly and making Bickslow's stomach roll a little more, "What … what kind of magic was that?"

Bickslow absently rubbed his fingers over the tattoo on his face, "None of your business. Just focus on the next stage of the plan."

Conrad shrunk away from him fractionally but Bickslow refused to react to the motion. He knew how people felt about his eye magic. He knew that it scared them. It scared him too. Seeing the constantly shifting colors of another person suddenly go still, the normally untouchable shades of emotion and thought becoming perfectly moldable with just a word from Bickslow's mouth…

It was terrifying. And it wasn't even the full extent of what he could do. Ordering information from someone was easy, so pathetically easy compared to what his eye magic could really do if he willed it. A moment of eye contact, that was all Bickslow's curse needed to take hold, to make those colors come under his command, his to demand answers from as he pleased … or greyscale completely should he just will it.

Bickslow shuddered to himself, forcing his thoughts away from his eye magic and back to their plan. His eye magic had been necessary for the first part of their plan, but now that the first stage was over, he would be focusing on just using Pappa and Pippi. He wouldn't have to change anyone's colors again.

Wren's tenth finger came up and she nodded sharply to Conrad. Taking a deep breath, Conrad nodded and raised his hands away from his sides. Stepping around the tree they'd been hiding behind to point in the direction the unconscious bandit had come from, Conrad exhaled and clapped sharply. There was a pause, then bright yellow magic seals materialized twenty yards away and exploded into firecrackers, their loud popping shredding the lazy forest quiet like a wild dog through fresh food.

Despite knowing that it was supposed to be that loud, Bickslow flinched at the gunshot-like sounds. Conrad repeated his hand motions, setting off another loud round of firecrackers. In the heavy silence that followed, Bickslow heard the crashing of undergrowth and shouts of "it came from over here!" ringing in the distance. The three children exchanged a glance before taking off to the left of their position, carefully weaving their way through the trees on a path parallel to the one Mest would have taken to reach the hideout.

Every couple of yards, Conrad would stop and set off another round of magic firecrackers, their loud popping and bright lights attracting increasing attention from the nearby criminals they were hoping to thwart. Bickslow let power flood his eyes as they kept running, his gaze sweeping over their surroundings warily as they steadily worked a circuit around the bandit hideout's general location.

Physical things such as the trees and bushes couldn't stop him from seeing people's colors, just from affecting them, marking him as the official lookout for their plan. Bickslow glanced over his right shoulder, quickly counting the number of angrily colored beacons following them, "Ten so far!" His gaze flickered ahead of them and he slid to an abrupt stop, one hand hastily pointing at the beacon of anger only he could see, "There's one coming right for us!"

Wren grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, hissing warningly at him as they kept running. Bickslow swallowed hard, right, can't stop. There's more of them behind us than in front of us. Reaching out mentally to Pappa and Pippi, he sent them shooting forward at the approaching presence, their shrill little war cries accenting his own as the three of them thundered out of the bushes and attacked in a whirlwind of desperate magic spells.

Conrad, proving himself useful despite his annoying attitude, flashed a bright beam of light directly into the bandit's eyes, interrupted the spell he'd been preparing so that Pappa and Pippi could slam harshly against his temples. The man went down like a sack of flour off a wagon, Bickslow lithely jumping over his unconscious body without hesitation as they kept running.

For the next several minutes, the pattern repeated. They would set off a loud noise to attract attention and then pick off a straggler of the group that came after them or someone smart enough to circle around their route. At one point, they ran right past a large cave set in the side of a steep rocky slope, the large sign with the name Dark Harrow and the bristling guards Conrad had blinded with a flash of light denoting its status as the hideout.

More and more bandits came after them, trying to catch them and stop their wild rampage through the forest, but none of them able to keep up with two experienced street-rats and a repeated runaway attempter.

Wren tripped another bandit into slamming face first against a tree trunk and Bickslow almost winced at the crunch noise that emanated from the now unconscious man's nose upon impact. Bickslow's eyes glided over their surroundings and he said, "More coming from the left." Then he froze, wait!

A prickling sensation rippled over his skin and Bickslow dragged Conrad and Wren to a halt. Spinning them around to face him, he shouted, "Hey! Can you hear me?" Wren's eyes widened and she paled while Conrad looked distinctly confused. Bickslow felt his own face slowly drain of blood as he realized it wasn't just his imagination.

The world had just gone mute.

Spinning in place, Bickslow scoured the rapidly nearing mass of auras, trying to figure out which one was the source of the sudden muteness that had heralded the carriage ambush and their current problem. His eyes were immediately drawn to one aura in particular, one that made his heart skip instinctively with fear.

Black that was dark as ink and blood-slicked red towered over the other presences, a giant among ants. Slaver. Those are slaver colors, killer colors, murderer! Bickslow swallowed hard and pointed frantically in the direction of the towering black and red mass, his lips moving in a warning shout that even himself couldn't hear.

Thick tendrils of smokey grey were extending from the giant aura and into the air, choking out all sound and filling the air with an near-invisible smog that Bickslow could only just now see. Their boss. The one who mutes everything is their boss! He has to be! Next to him, Wren was frowning, her expression the one she always wore when she was working as fast as she could to find a solution to a problem.

Bickslow waved a hand commandingly, sending Pappa and Pippi darting forward as distractions without need for words. Their lasers lit up the woods, gouging into the ground and searing off branches as they whipped into the approaching group of bandits, stinging and harrying wildly in an effort to buy time.

As Pappa and Pippi zipped in and out of the fray, silent explosions of light lit up the bushes just in front of the faltering bandits, almost blinding Bickslow because of his own lack of preparation. Bickslow absently cuffed Conrad on the head as the three of them spun on their heels and ran away. A little warning next time! Conrad made a face at Bickslow as if he'd heard the other boy's thoughts.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bickslow suddenly spotted something in the colors that was … wrong. What's that glow? Colors don't have that kind of glow- A slender hand wrapped around his wrist and jerked him roughly to one side. Before he could fully process what was going on, he and Conrad were pressed in brushy depression of ground where several fallen logs had managed to form a tight triangular hollow in between and under them that the three children could just barely fit in.

Wren pressed up against them, palms of her hands clamped firmly over their mouths, her eyes hard and wild as she visibly struggled to minimize her breathing. Bickslow followed Wren's example instinctively, not wanting to cross his little sister when she was glowing with those colors. Twisting purple of maturity wrapped tightly around a dark simmering powder blue and orange mix he had grown to recognize as angrily protective emotions. Intertwining between the two was a slimy green of fear and dancing spots of white exhaustion that made Bickslow worry.

Closing his eyes briefly, Bickslow willed Pappa and Pippi to go flying the other way, hoping to lead the bandits away from their hiding place. Causing a distraction was fine, but there was no way the two of them, three if he counted Conrad's shaky firecracker skills, could take on the towering aura that was the bandit leader.

The silence surrounding them was heavy and unnatural, the sudden inability to tell if someone was coming, or even hear his own labored breathing, was intensely unnerving. Bickslow ruthlessly suppressed the urge to squirm in their almost-too-small hiding place from the sheer amount of adrenaline thrumming through his veins. It was too quiet, too still, too deathly soundless yet reeking of danger.

The presences were coming closer and while Bickslow could no longer turn his head to confirm, out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the presences split roughly in half around their hollow, slowly trekking past it in search of them. So they weren't fooled by Pappa and Pippi. Darn it.

The large, black and red aura stopped just outside their hollow and Bickslow could just barely see the tips of large boots. His heart was hammering in his ribs so harshly it was a wonder it hadn't somehow shattered the thick muting grey magic in the air. Bickslow glanced at Wren again in worry, the faint glow of his eye magic barely visible to him under the brilliance of her colors. She was the closest to the exit, the closest to the bandit boss, the closest to danger. When is Mest going to be done and get us out of here? Wren's hand tensed and she suddenly twisted her head to look at him, an expression of horror on her face that confused Bickslow.

She started to move her hand, her lips moving in silent words that he knew he wouldn't have heard even it there wasn't a thick muting magic in the air, when the black and red presence flared. The atmosphere around Bickslow seemed to tense even as his gaze swiveled automatically toward the flaring presence, trying to determine what the man was going to do-

Then something slammed into him and Bickslow was flying, the earth and tree-patched sky switching places several times before he slammed breathlessly into the ground, sharp falling debris slicing at his arms and cheeks as he landed. The world spun as Bickslow shook his head dazedly, lungs rasping and choking as he tried to breathe and instead inhaled the dust-like particles of wood now clogging the air.

Years of experience on the streets had him rolling dazedly onto his hands and knees despite the pain and breathlessness. Shaking his head to clear the dizziness a bit, Bickslow scrambled to regain the rest of his senses, a false sound entering the world by way of his ringing ears. A few feet away, Conrad was still crumpled on the ground, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he too fought against his deflated lungs. Wren, where's Wren? We need to get out of here before we're completely surrounded!

Bickslow started to look around frantically, mentally calling Pappa and Pippi back to him, his lack of weaponized tiki dolls having suddenly become a much bigger problem than before. He looked over his shoulder as he wobbled unsteadily to his feet, trying to pinpoint the bandit boss and see if he was about to launch another attack. Bickslow's heart seemed to stop when he finally laid eyes of the bandit boss. His world froze, his mouth went dry, and his gasps were suddenly laced with pure terror.

Wren kicked and struggled against the large hand holding her up in the air by her throat, her shadows slapping futilely against her captor, seemingly unable to strike with any real power. The bandit boss had a look of contempt on his face, the blood-red of his aura thickening with intent as his fingers started to squeeze. Bickslow lurched forward only to be struck down again and pinned from behind.

The other bandits, bruised, scraped, and mildly burned from the chase, closed in on the scene. Their lips moved in mocking jeers that he couldn't hear, some prepping magic spells and waving them around threateningly. Bickslow ignored them, his focus riveted solely on his flailing sister and the man who was strangling her. Bickslow bucked and struggled against the grip of his much larger captor, his throat burning from the force of his incoherent and unheard screams. No. Not again. Not-again-not-again-no-no-no-no-NO!

Wren's struggles were getting weaker, her shadows going limp even as she continued to claw at the hand around her neck. Said hand only gripped tighter. A small part of Bickslow's mind realized with sick terror that if he gripped any harder, Wren wouldn't die from suffocation, but a snapped neck.

Something broke inside Bickslow and he craned his head to catch a glimpse of his captor's eyes. The man's aura became moldable and Bickslow shoved it down completely, all reservations of taking over someone's aura thrown to the wind in the face of his sister's impending death. The weight pressing down on Bickslow eased, but he remained sprawled on the ground, his focus entirely on controlling the bandit he had made eye-contact with, his throat still burning from his continued screams as he sent the man charging toward Wren's would-be killer.

His living puppet lunged wildly at the man holding Wren only to go flying with a single punch, Bickslow's control snapping painfully as there was suddenly no aura to control. All gazes shifted to him and for a moment, despite the muteness of the world, he could almost hear what they were saying, their aura conveying it just as well. Only the one man Bickslow wanted, needed, to make eye contact with refused to look at him, instead staring fixedly at Wren as Bickslow scrambled to his feet.

Bickslow lunged desperately toward the now increasingly still Wren, his entire being screaming, his eyes thrumming with power that was so, so dangerous and yet so, so useless to him right then. The world seemed to slow again as he saw the large man's fingers begin to curl with vindictive intent, the blood-red color thickening until he could almost smell it, and Bickslow's life crashing down around him as he realized one terrifying thing.

He wasn't going to make it in time.

His sister's name leaped soundlessly from his lips, an agonizing one-word plea for help, for salvation, for anything that would stop those fingers from tightening further, "Wren! WREN!"

Thick fingers clenched, the world erupted, and thunder ruptured the silence like the roar of an enraged demon.

Japanese Translation: "Manuke" = calling someone an idiot/moron etc. in a way that is just shy of profane.