Those We Left Behind

There was nothing save an echoing, horrible, gurgling cry of pain and terror that lingered as I followed and stomped his face into silt with my blue boots. The cry stopped. I paused in the freezing water, watching as clotting blood flowed off in long strands. Lupe extends a welcoming hand as I emerged, shivering.

"Is it done?" she asks.

"Yes Lupe, it's done," I said, taking a hold of her outstretched hand.

We sat to rest and recover on the upper-level storerooms, away from the flooding. Unfortunately, what should have been shelves containing emergency rations were left barren. This left me desperate and famished enough to rummage through piles of empty cans whose residue had been scraped clean, until my hands brushed over a packet of instant noodles, devoid of any seasoning. While collecting at the bottom of the refuse was … shedding? I sniffed the collection of rust-brown hairs. Silky, glossy. Like a fox or a mink. Fiona's?

So, they were squatters in our old base. This had to have been a few weeks worth of stolen food for the thieving, criminal duo. I growled in frustration. It makes me think of a rumour I heard once. Supposedly, supermarkets used to throw out whole dumpsters worth of perfectly edible food. Any defect like defaced packaging and unsightly lumps was sufficient reason to warrant their disposal. Now, I can't verify the veracity of such outlandish tales. But if they were real? I was more than willing to kill.

I held out the packet like a consolation prize. The collective disappointment painted on my companion's faces was clear. Even the normally apathetic Snively pouted at the unfortunate turn of events. I knew I was making a bad impression. But between my racing heart and throbbing feet, I could barely bring myself to care. It would be an entrée, I told myself, before the big celebratory feast when I got home.

While I started the fire. The Pack sat, huddled in a circle. I strained my ears to eavesdrop but could only make out snippets of their heated debate over the crackling fire. Snively was the topic of their discussion and it was clear their intentions were unpleasant for the little man. For his part, Snively was well aware of their undoubtedly hostile intent and made sure to keep his distance in the event of trouble.

I got flashbacks from cooking. Mostly of the embarrassing kind, like the secret ingredients soup fiasco. Sally's friends would never let her live that down, shooing her out of the kitchen before she could wind up giving everyone food poisoning again. I wondered if I would fare any better. Surely, there was nothing inimical between Sally and food was there? I re-examined the instructions printed on the back. Add noodles, clean water, and heat. What could possibly go wrong? Infamous last words.

"Princess." A harsh grating voice snaps me from my stupor. I gaze up at Lobo who had broken away from the discussion. There's an odd yet altogether familiar feeling of nausea creeping over me. I know that tone. It's the very same when my people are in a bad spot and expect the wise and all-knowing Princess Sally Acorn to have some words of inspiration.

Yes, Princess was not a position Sally would necessarily have chosen herself. But it was her destiny. Sometimes it's a privilege, affording her first dibs on salvage (one which she rarely exercised). Other times she thought her title as being little more than an affectionate nickname. As she was fond of saying: There are no titles in the Great Forest. Her mantra was right up on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them down. Whining and griping would not endear my already tarnished reputation.

"I'm sorry if I offended your sensibilities earlier," Lobo said. Though the words themselves were diplomatic, his tone was not. It was pensive, almost as though an undercurrent of words was swirling around his tongue, awaiting release.

"You didn't, I was surprised. It's war. I've read of the Pack's campaigns against their mortal enemies, the Fieldale and their bravery against the Overlanders at my father's side." At my honeyed words, a thin wry smile spread across Lobo's face only to vanish just as quickly as it appeared.

"If you've read of our histories, then you must know of our devotion to the Pack."

I nodded.

"So, one mighty leader to another, I wish to bargain." Lobo sighed, almost as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest. He shifted awkwardly, awaiting my response.

"What do you have to offer?" I asked curiously. All eyes were firmly affixed on Lobo. I knew the fate of his people rested on his words.

"I think our causes are inexorably linked together. The sooner we defeat Robotnik, the sooner our people can be freed."

"I couldn't agree more," I said encouragingly.

Lobo gave a deep throaty chuckle, seeming all the more intimidating as the flickering fire illuminated his glimmering incisors. "What are you up to, Sally?"

With an uncertain frown, I stared confused at Lobo. "Me, why?"

Lobo laughed. "Come, on, princess. Don't play coy."

I must have looked blank because Lobo cocked his head and paused a moment before adding, "Don't you know of your reputation among the pack?"

"I don't get out much, Lobo. I spend most of my time in the Great Forest."

"I knew about your group before we met. But I didn't believe the rumours at the time: the little group of children turned soldiers, they said, and their leader a wise and mighty warrior-queen. You disturb the Freedom Fighters at your peril." Lobo's smile faltered. "When I saw you, I wondered if the rumour was true. I thought to myself, surely this little girl is no threat. But I saw the way you dealt with Scourge."

I rose up on the balls of my feet. It was an instinctive response, trying to seem bigger than the bloodthirsty predator standing before me. "He was a vicious and cruel bounty hunter working for Robotnik. I had no choice in the matter."

Lobo nodded. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes. I finally figured out what you wanted. You desire the pack to be your janissaries, an outside force willing to carry out your deeds."

I felt my heart thudding in my ears. "You followed me because you view me as a valuable ally to help get your people free and I intend to do just that."

With a toss of his head, Lobo said, "You really don't understand? I followed you because if I didn't do something quick, I would be next, and you would deal with me just as you did with Fiona."

"You did it," I hissed, stabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "What was I supposed to do?"

"It was a snap decision made in anger. But you, you didn't even bat an eyelid." Lobo protested. "You have the heart of a killer, Sally. When I suggested using that traitor's corpse as bait, I got not a word of protest from you. Not one word." Lobo mumbled to himself.

Lupe watched our argument intently from a distance, her face calm and unreadable.

Our noses near touched. His stare felt painful and piercing as if he was trying to expose the horrid creature within. For a moment, we glared at each other's in silence until I glimpsed my own reflection in Lobo's sclera. Much to my horror, my face was a mask of rage. Bands of embarrassment wrapped around my chest while the rest of the pack stared back in shock. Lobo's eyes widened before he backed down, taking a seat so as not to tower over me. As if touching up on makeup, he affixed a calm smile to his face, revealing only the barest hint of glittering incisors. But I knew if he really wanted to, Lobo could cross the narrow distance between us in the span of a heartbeat.

His gaze softened. "When I made an error, I tried to make amends by following your lead. But you, you don't ever stop until the job is good and done. Why do you think I agreed"—he swept his arms about in a broad circle— "to follow you down a hole and instruct my pack to obey you? Because I knew if I didn't show you I had had a change of heart, you would have done my people in."

"Enough Lobo, we're getting nowhere antagonizing her," Lupe spoke up, earning the ire of her mate.

"I am Pack leader, entrusted with making the biggest decisions for them." Returning his gaze to me he added, "So tell me exactly what you're after, Sally, before I leave our collective fates in your hands."

My eyes ran over Lobo, his mate, and over each concerned face of the Pack. "It's an evolving project," I began. "I'll get you settled in, survival. Next, security when I consolidate my truce with Robotnik. Then prosperity," I said sullenly at the ingrate. The fact that he was listening now lent little to my desire to alter my phlegmatic expression.

"And then?"

"Power," I said confidently. "Imagine if the Great Forest became a safe haven; think of a world without SWATbots, without Buzz Bombers razing down your homes. Imagine a world that's peaceful and safe."

An uncertain expression spread across Lobo's face as he glanced warily at his mate before returning his gaze to me. "Do you think your Freedom Fighters can really do all that?"

"I don't know for certain, but I do believe it's a goal worth striving for," I confirmed.

"But I know," Lupe spoke up, leaning forward and licking her chops. "It sounds improbable, perhaps. But not impossible. With his nephew taken as a hostage, he wouldn't dare make a move. I would settle here. No more running away." Lupe spoke with a glint in her eyes and an easy smile spread across her muzzle.

Lobo shifted his shoulders. "Don't you mean 'our', mate? Don't you mean 'we'?"

"The vision is mine," Lupe replied. "The pack is accustomed to following their leader. That is in a sense our creed. So, our creed must adapt to our changing environment."

"We have adapted when we were driven from our homes," Lobo said, struggling to re-establish his authority. "We will do so again. But separate, outside of the meddling ways of a scion of the Acorns."

I snorted. "You think in the short-term. You desire independence, self-determination, and autonomy. But what are you going to do for the bare necessities of life? Do you know where to find shelter, clean drinking water, and how to determine the edible plants from the poisonous in this part of the world?"

"I can manage," he said, more hesitatingly this time.

"You are not seriously considering your future. What are you going to do with your depleted numbers? All I request from you is patience and tolerance rather than enmity. My goal will not be a society for the Freedom Fighters alone. The Great Forest will be a shining beacon, an assembly area for an army that will one day liberate Robotropolis."

Lobo raised an eyebrow. "With the Freedom Fighters at the top?"

"Yes," My tone now carrying a note of impatience. "All that is required now is for you to offer me a modicum of trust. We can hash out the details later on. My immediate concern right now is keeping our strength up for the journey ahead." Speaking of which, the strong scent of burnt noodles wafted into my nose. Apparently, I am just as bad as Sally at cooking. Good to know. A pregnant pause followed while I stared at my culinary disaster. "I think they might still edible."

An awkward silence followed as I doled out their meal, my guests tried to be polite but were unable to suppress a look of disgust. A bowl filled with scalding hot soup burst into pieces against the adjacent wall. Lobo scowled at me, having 'finished' his meal. Lupe sat beside me. "On behalf of my mate, I would like to apologize. Are you alright?" Lupe asked seeming genuinely concerned. I considered her affable demeanour to be suspicious.

"You don't speak like the rest, Lupe. Why is this the case?" I asked curiously.

"Because unlike the rest of my pack I attended formal schooling," she answered.

"I see," I acknowledged with a curt nod and tried not to seem crotchety at her peaceful reproach.

"I met Sir Charles. He was brilliant. You probably don't remember me but I saw you once while you once were with another prodigy your age. A ... fox I think?"

There's a reason why we rarely talk about Mobotropolis. While it was certainly not a taboo subject per se, discussions tended to veer into morbid territory. Lupe's attempt at understanding and relating to me was admirable. But not appreciated...

Sally had a reputation as a delinquent. Following Julayla's passing, a deluge of events had occurred all at once. The Great War had broken out and both her father and elder sibling had become increasingly involved with the minutiae of war: long and dreary meetings with boorish military men; their breasts lined with pomp and paraphernalia.

Consequently, family meals became a rare affair. Made even rarer still when Ivo Julian Kintobar was in attendance. Even with the benefit of hindsight, Sally knew the Overlander defector possessed an almost palpable aura of menace about him. Him she avoided. Even if she had to invent previously unheard of female diseases to take meals on her own.

Sir Charles, her newly appointed guardian, was understanding of his student's needs. He offered generous extensions to her assignment deadlines and was flexible with class schedules. Nonetheless, his support did not extend to outright breaking established school rules when Sally frequently failed to turn in assignments and barely scraped by in her classes. When academic intake was severely curtailed in the wake of the general draft, Sir Charles stepped in personally to mentor his delinquent pupil. Consequently, Sally attended classes regularly and got straight A's. By the end, she had achieved the equivalent of a high school diploma and a scholarship with plans to major in mathematics. But her reputation retained its tarnish, largely because of her aloofness.

Sally did not get along well with the others. The older girls whom were exempt from the draft would talk about parties, sweethearts, daytime television, and what else but the Great War. She heard enough from the desk jockeys, maids, and generals at the palace. The latter of whom used terminologies of no fewer than four syllables in an attempt to bamboozle who they perceived as a naïve girl and were surprised when she did, in fact, understand.

She knew she couldn't bring state secrets into casual conversations but neither could she find relief in more mundane topics. Once, while standing in a knot of girls talking about which boys they thought were cutest, she mentioned that she had helped the Master of Hounds to deliver the latest litter of pups the day prior (she gave one to Sonic, which he called Muttski). The other girls had looked at her in blank disgust and quietly walked away.

Even within the lunchroom, she usually ate by herself. Her head bent low, arm hooked around her tray. Aside from 4-H with Bunnie, she hadn't joined any clubs and didn't play any sports, insisting instead that she headed straight home after lectures. Sir Charles had decided, in his infinite wisdom, she needed a playmate her age. Consequently, he took on a new student who now sat across her.

One of the school's few Mennonites, Nicole the Lynx, always wore a long, simple dress and kept her short black hair under a cap. They got along well enough, which is to say Sally could stand her company. They would have gotten along a lot better had Nicole not apparently gotten it into her head that Sally was a poor sinner in need of repentance. While Sally was picking at a kind of mock chicken stroganoff, she pushed a book across the table. "Read that."

I glanced at it. "What is it?"

"Just read it."

Nicole slid a book into my open hands. While being chauffeured home, I skimmed it. As I had supposed, it was a religiously themed: it recounted the story of a four-year-old boy who had undergone major surgery and gone to heaven for a few minutes. The boy claimed thereafter to have met Jesus who manifested in the boy's mind as a majestic king wearing a crown, holding a sword in one hand and a gold ring in the other. The next day, Nicole confronted me upon returning the book.

"Did you read it?" Nicole asked enthusiastically.

"Most of it."

"And?"

I shrugged which she took as consent. With a nervous smile, she stepped closer. "Doesn't it seem true? Don't you just feel sometimes that there's a higher being beyond our mortal understanding?"

"I know someone just like that," I answered, walking away. "And yes, I live with him every day..."

I sat upright, straight and tight, giving no indication of my repulse of the topic. "It's a long time ago. Her name was Nicole Lynx and she vanished one day, without so much as a note or a goodbye. If this is an attempt for you to empathize with my position. Please don't."

"I understand if you're sore," Lupe said sorrowfully. "But you must understand. When the SWATbots stopped their work and asked for thirteen to step forth we were speculating that Robotnik in-tended a spectacle where he dealt with us before releasing the rest to sow terror through Mobius."

I knew where this was going. My face fell. "It's not your fault," Lupe reassured. "My mate sent his loyal retinue to go and I volunteered against his wishes. We were expecting martyrdom. Instead, it's we who live and those that remain becoming slaves in our stead."

"Those Overlander children. Were they yours?" I asked.

"Yes Sally, it's a tale regaled countless times over campfires like this one. We fled our homes when SWATbots, undeterred by old ghost stories and tales of ancient curses, descended into our catacombs. From then on, our pack travelled far and wide in search of supplies." Lupe's voice grew saddened. "But there was a spot of hope in our tale of woe. We chanced upon the twins, Aerial and Athena, while scavenging through the ruins of a shattered Overlander City. They were nearly feral. Their family no doubt perishing in one of the dictator's attacks. We couldn't leave them be, so my husband and I decided to adopt them," Lupe finished sounding hopeful once more. "I'm not sure if you have children yourself. But as a mother my hopes of getting them back lie with you." Lupe's tone was grave.

"I'll help in any way I can. That's a promise I intend to keep."

"It is admirable that you take your responsibility so seriously. Assenting to duty is the proper course of action for a queen. Without your timely presence, we would be slaves. Unlike my mate, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth." She finishes her meal and, looking over to where the rest of the Pack had gathered, she shouted, "Robotnik has taken two of my children. He will never take away my freedom. I am free. We are free."

"Free or dead," I say harshly.

"Free or dead!" Lupe shouts aloud to the rest.

"FREE OR DEAD!" comes a chorus of voices. It's hard to describe the sense of community I felt as my one voice joined the multitude. It was as though certain alienable divides were transcended.

Lobo smiled, widely and genuinely. "Free or dead!" Yes, we'll get along just fine.

Saving the world isn't a journey one generally embarks upon intentionally. Oh, you'll set out with a vague idea of helping, maybe even a concrete goal in the "making things better" department. But to consciously, willfully set out to save the entire world? Not the standard hero M.O. Even Sonic, saviour of the world, was playing a reactive role when he did his thing.

In the storybooks, the pieces were already laid out. Guided into place by the hand of fate, the danger is imminent but the path to victory was never in any doubt. All the heroine of the story had to do was follow the trail laid before her. Not lose heart, come hell or high-water. When did I decide to save the world? I had to do so deliberately and forge that trail for myself. Robotnik was powerful. But I knew he had limitations, weaknesses. He could be tricked, fooled. Already, I had the bare skeletons of a plan assembled. But I couldn't do it on my own. I would need to convince my people and that would be a whole other type of battle on its own.