Back in the cave Willow struggled to control the volume of her whisper. "That's the Owl House? What happened to Eda?"
"She's… coping."
"HOW?"
"The usual. Stirring up trouble. Fomenting rebellion." Hunter tapped the owl helmet.
Willow gaped. "You're a team."
"I, uh. Guess you could say that. She's my mentor."
"What!" Willow's shout echoed off cavern walls.
Distant crunching announced another island being smashed. Far away the Collector hollered. "Hide and seek! I know you're around here somewhere."
Hunter spirited away the bedroll, the wood, and the dried strips on the rack. "We need to go. Can you handle a few hours of fast flying?"
A few hours? How fast? She and Clover didn't have that kind of stamina after being limited to stealth practice. "I'll try."
"We'll stop if we have to but it will be over water. If necessary Flapjack is prepared to fly double."
"I'm ready."
Nothing to take, nothing to leave behind. They zoomed out of the red rock island in the opposite direction as the Owl House Titan. Willow looked over her shoulder for a while. Hair strands whipped around her vision as the undead bird colossus receded. Over flat ocean it'd be visible for a long time.
Its dripping neck and sunken face did vaguely resemble Hooty.
Willow focused forward. Flapjack wasn't exerting himself. Clover, on the other hand, she worried over. "Are you going to be alright?"
"…I'll try." Clover echoed her earlier words.
They both knew they weren't going to survive a few hours even at Flapjack's restrained pace. It didn't matter. Clover was like her. This was a time for action, not stalling and debate. They'd figure out the next hurdle when it appeared.
Boiling water stretched far past Clover's blurred wings. Once in a while she soared over a bone fragment or patches of rock and sand. Apart from that there wasn't much to see, and it could go on this way for days. Sailing to the closest territory took weeks. A witch and their palisman would run out of magic and drop into the fatal water long before then.
After what might've been an hour Clover began getting tired. The constant wind in Willow's face made her skin raw. At least her glasses protected her eyes. She checked on Flapjack and Hunter, who'd taken a position ahead and to the side to make it easier for Clover: classic V formation except with only two fliers. Flapjack's wingbeats remained steady and Hunter's mask focused straight ahead.
How did he stay on task this long without a break? He'd been tired when he found her. The hand with the ruined fingers had to hurt, and it was on the same arm she'd bitten. Guilt gloomed over Willow. He hadn't complained or even taken time to treat the bite, which he should have.
A titan bone appeared on the horizon. As it got closer the tall yellowing piece revealed its broken top. It was barely large enough to sit on. "We have to take a break," Willow said. Hunter gave a curt nod.
They reached the bone and Willow dropped onto its porous surface with a crunch. She sat and let her legs dangle. Clover plopped into her lap, fuzzy sides puffing rapidly.
After a few minutes she looked over at Hunter still hovering on the staff. His mask tilted. "Permission to join?" he asked.
"Have at it."
Flapjack skirted the bone. Hunter stepped off, did a brusque about-face, and took a seat with his legs over the edge. The sound of the helmet coming off scraped over his hair. He exhaled heavily.
"Tired?" she asked.
"Maybe a little." His elbows slid over his knees. Flapjack landed on his head.
They sat back to back on the tiny platform without touching, somehow. They were close enough Willow couldn't feel the air behind her.
When she questioned where they were going Hunter said it was another island, small, no inhabitants, but this time with plants and working magic. Within a short talk his responses dwindled to one or two slow words, so Willow fell quiet. She opened her scroll and brought up her dads' chat. Good thing it still worked. If this had been a phone it would be so outdated Penstagram wouldn't run on it anymore.
"There's no tracking data in our scrolls, right?"
He sounded a little out of it. "Tracking… data."
"If I message my parents it won't get us caught?"
"Nnnnno. No. Hmm," Hunter hummed distantly. Willow thought he was done but after a long delay, and while she was going through the scroll, he lifted a finger. "Oh. Back then, I told them. You were alive. In the human realm. So they knew." The finger flopped back into his lap.
"That must have meant everything to them. You were the only one who saw what happened. What about Gus, Amity?"
"Same." He would've told Eda about Luz of course.
Willow's thank you breathed relief. She'd always worried her parents didn't know what became of her, only that she never returned. Hunter had spared everyone a lot of sadness.
On the scroll she flicked past the block where all her old messages dropped at once. Then she caught up on what her dads wrote after she left the demon realm. Or—she tried to. The first heartbroken texts meant Hunter hadn't been able to contact them right away. The words were from parents trying to find their missing child after the apocalypse.
It was too much to handle. She sucked in a breath and rubbed fingers under her glasses. Skipping it all for now, she typed.
HELLO_WILLOW: I'm home. Sorry it took so long, nothing we tried worked. I'll try to find you when I can. Love you. Be safe.
She let the scroll poof out.
Seawater lapped the bone's base. She listened to it burble for a while. Behind her Hunter sat quiet and still, and Clover was breathing easier. Eventually her wings perked and she puffed with determination.
"Ready to give it another go?"
Clover nodded. She transformed and Willow got on. They hovered, waiting for their flying partners. Nothing happened.
"Hunter?"
He jolted. "Huh! Oh, yeah. Come on Flap..." He shook his head and Flapjack bolted upright with a startled chirp.
Willow frowned.
The monotonous journey resumed. She watched Hunter and Flapjack closely for a while. Hunter's owl helmet protected his face but it didn't make it easy to gauge his mood. After long enough staring at the streamlined cloak rippling, blurry red wings, and solid seawater below, things were getting a little dizzy. Willow rolled her view up to the sky and invented shapes in the clouds to pass time.
It was when Flapjack started to drop from tip of the V that she noticed Hunter's posture sinking. He couldn't keep himself awake anymore.
"Hey!" she shouted. Hunter startled and Flapjack zipped back into position. They were both falling asleep.
Clover's buzz surged to bring Willow alongside. At the speed they flew she had to yell to be heard over the wind's roar. "How much further?"
"Not sure. Think… I dozed off." Hunter pressed the heel of his gloved hand against the mask's forehead. "Thirty minutes?"
The growing speck on the horizon must be the island he wanted. Sharp bones protruded around it. It looked like a clawed hand. Crimson purple plantlife filled the palm.
"Stay awake," Willow ordered. Clover drifted back into formation. From here it would be easier to catch Hunter or Flapjack if they fell. She kept a sharp eye on them. She might be past the glory days of Hexside flyer derby, but its courage lived on. It was up to her to make sure the entire team landed safely.
Clover went past her limit. Out of energy the staff shuddered but kept flying. Willow squeezed as the ride got bumpy. They were so close. If they could just get a little closer. She reached an arm out.
On the island a splotch of purple needle trees grew. Their trunks twisted together. That spike came racing their way, faster and faster as it spanned the distance. "Brace yourselves!"
Wood lanced over the boiling sea. With one final heave Clover pushed next to Flapjack. Bark wrapped around the four of them and tightened. Willow smushed up against Hunter. She focused on pulling the trees back to the island before the ridiculously long lasso crashed into the ocean. Air screamed by with sickening speed.
Sky turned to gritty earth. Trees yanked them through the ground and spit them up on the beach in a tangle of bodies.
Willow rolled off Hunter and flopped face up in the sand. She rubbed the spot where owl metal had been digging into her collarbone. Hunter pulled the mask off but did not get up from where he sprawled like a beached starfish. Flapjack lay collapsed, wings out. Besides panting from the wild ride neither moved.
Hunter sounded breathless and silly. "Is that what the humans teach these days?"
"No." Now that they weren't in mortal danger, irritation pinched Willow. She sat up. "But I did learn how to take care of myself. Like, sleeping. And not leaving injuries unfixed." She snatched Hunter's sleeve and yanked it up. Bloody bite pattern glared back.
"Oh that. Hardly feel it, ha ha."
"You'll feel it when it gets infected. Or are grimwalkers immune?"
Hunter's silence confirmed what she already knew. He bled the same color as any witch or human. Willow narrowed her eyes. Why was she mad? How could he be so careless about himself?
She rolled up her sleeves and marched to the ocean. A wooden bowl swirled into her hand. She collected some of the boiling water, stomped back, and set it down to cool. "You're lucky I remember the plants we took care of for the potion track, and why. I'll see what I can find. Stay here."
"But—"
"No."
Hunter snatched her jacket. "Wait. Wait," he panted. "I have to come with you. Or at least don't go where I can't see you. Please."
He was scared. Sleep deprivation didn't help with clear thinking either. Willow softened. "Let's find some shelter," she suggested. She could look for medicinal plants on the way.
The wooden bowl closed into a sphere around the water. She stored it, helped Hunter up, and picked limp Flapjack out of the sand.
A short walk into the jungle revealed plants she wasn't familiar with. The wobbly blue fern leaves were similar but not the same as drip fern. Flowers with spiny teeth in the centers sprouted on vines. Ghostly moss draped from trees. In the thickening plantlife she could identify only a handful of species.
She plucked a softer moss variety growing over some stones. Lifting a rock she found a few bloodwort globules. She scraped them off. Good enough to start. They were running out of daylight and Hunter was doing his darndest to not pass out where he stood. Right now he was the only person she could rely on. The best thing would be for him to get some rest.
Rather than find shelter, it occurred to her she could create it. Casting magic in broad daylight after so long kept sneaking up on her. She started drawing. Trees creaked, bending into arches. Trunks formed a half shell over the ground like a little wooden cave. Ghost moss spread into parted curtains across the front. Before Willow got creative the last of her magic flattened the floor.
"I'm out. Do you still have that bedroll?"
Hunter spelled it into existence. Willow spread it inside the homemade cove. Then she went outside by an undisturbed purple needle tree. "First thing's first," she said, folding to her knees. "Let's take care of your arm."
He joined her and pulled up his sleeve. Willow held his wrist and poured water over the bite cutting into his bicep. Cottony moss dabbed away the mess. More water washed off debris. She tried not to despair seeing how deep the punctures went while she repeated the process.
As Hunter watched her work his composure gradually crumpled with sorrow.
"This'll sting," she said.
Bloodwort globules crushed in her fist. Juice dripped over the raw wound. Hunter's wrist tightened in her grasp. His eyes smashed shut as he clenched his jaw and turned his head away. Causing him pain twisted Willow's insides but she stayed focused on applying the bloodwort.
Brackish orange liquid dribbled along his arm. Trails beaded in droplets that plipped to the jungle floor. Once Willow ran out of wort she swabbed away the excess, careful not to touch the bite itself.
Hunter relaxed as the sting lessened. The physical release did not ease his emotional pain brewing to the surface. While Willow wound a plant wrap over the wound his eyebrows wrinkled together.
She tied off the wrap in a bow.
Hunter's breathing hitched. After being quiet this whole time, unshed tears cracked his voice. "Why are you so nice to me?" His free hand clutched his chest. "I did some horrible things. You know that, right?"
"I've thought about it," Willow admitted of his days serving Belos. "I don't know for sure what you did in the past, but I don't think there's anything you could tell me that would change how I feel. You're a good person."
"How…" his voice broke. Between wobbly words a stream of misdeeds poured out. "I hurt people who resisted arrest. Witches and demons I told Belos about, they disappeared. He had these creatures in the dungeons he told me to dispatch, and I did it. One of them was a stonesleeper. I killed a stonesleeper." That confession shattered him. He tried to speak but only letter pieces remained. They turned to tears.
Willow gave Hunter the best side-hug she could. He trembled against her, unable to control the huffing soundless sobs, exhausted beyond the point of having any emotional filter.
She wanted to give him a real hug. Pull him against her, let him know he wasn't alone, that she believed he was good, and worth it, and that second chances didn't always have to be earned. Instead she kept her arm safely around him, feeling the quake of his shoulder with each wracked heave.
It didn't take long for his shaking to calm. Hunter was simply too tired to continue. He sagged, spent, and the drop caused Flapjack to emerge from under his cloak. The cardinal looked back and forth between them and chirruped.
"I'm fine," Hunter sniffled. "Piece of sand in my eye. Or, the whole beach."
Flapjack did not seem impressed. Willow chuckled.
She hoped Hunter might conk out but he got up, rubbing his good sleeve over his eyes with a sigh. For a second the fabric moved enough to show that wrist. Black crackling lines covered it. "Thanks. I didn't mean for that to happen. Ugh. Embarrassing."
"I don't mind. Your other arm…"
"It's fine."
She hadn't been able to see the emperor's coven sigil. Something had happened to it.
As the sun set they ate Hunter's rations along with plants Willow found. She thought she might cry from how good demon realm food tasted. Oh, she'd kill for some of dad's screaming eyeball soup. Maybe they could text her the recipe.
After supper Willow still had not managed to convince Hunter to sleep. Sitting in the tree cave she watched him pace back and forth outside. He stopped only after Flapjack returned from a scouting mission and perched on his shoulder.
"The drill hasn't changed," he told Flapjack. "I'll take first watch. You're second."
His palisman sagged with a dull sigh.
"Sorry Flap. I can't risk them getting collected while we're asleep."
Resignation flattened Flapjack's expression. Another night of guard duty with little rest. Willow could only imagine how much of their lives they spent this way, always on the run.
Flapjack landed on the ground and trudged into the shelter. Next to Willow he turned to face the exit, his little feet disappearing as he nestled down, eyes closed. Clover crawled down her arm to join him.
Outside Hunter stood at attention facing the sunset. Fading light outlined his cloak, the back of his hair, and angled ears. The Golden Guard used to do this: stand unmoving and alert for hours. Belos hadn't let him out much, but once or twice Willow had seen the distant gleam on a raised platform through crystal ball broadcast.
"I can take lookout duty," she said.
He hung his head. "That's not the problem."
"Monsters? I can handle them."
"I know." A wistful smile carried in his voice. The happiness faded. "It's… If I fall asleep, how will I know it's you when I wake up? That the Collector didn't replace you, that I'm not trapped in a new game?"
"You'll know." She was confident a fake couldn't stand up to the real her. "But I also know reassurances probably aren't enough, so I have a plan."
Hunter looked over his shoulder. She patted the blanket. "Sit next to me?"
"Uh... sure." He took a final scan around the area before ducking past the moss curtains into the cove. He sat beside her, and Willow rested her back against the wood wall. She left the curtains open so they could see the jungle.
"You wanted to hear about the human realm. It's not distracting if I talk about it now, is it?"
"No. Granted, I can't see our periphery from in here, but, it's a sacrifice I can handle." In other words, he liked being close.
Willow got a quiet thrill knowing it. While Hunter watched the outdoors, she told him about Earth. She talked about the adjustment to human culture, the weird food, the fact no one had wings or horns or tails. How the rain felt. The dew that crystallized on grass in the fall, and the way snow layered over pine trees in the winter.
Hunter's tense posture relaxed.
She told him about roller derby. She had lots of stories from the first team she'd joined, before they disbanded. The intense adrenaline, the speed of the cruel track racing under her feet, and the other players fighting to win reminded her of home. Also they had sick outfits.
Hunter's occasional remarks became drowsy. He would've liked to see her play. Willow could imagine it, the way his gangly figure would pop up in the stands when she got body checked and sent smashing into the rink only to spin back onto her skates.
Inside the tree hovel ghost moss hung motionless, the jungle outside dark. Beside her Hunter was nodding off. She brought up an old tale about Gus, a trip to the zoo, and giraffes.
Hunter's voice was quiet. "Is… it okay if I lean on you for a bit?"
"Sure."
Careful as a cardinal feather his touch hovered. He let himself tip to her shoulder without putting any weight on it. Willow wanted to laugh and nudge him, free his defenses, but at the same time she froze in place feeling Hunter settle in.
Exhaustion ate away at his caution. He sank against her. The cloak pooled and his pale hair bunched to her jacket. Willow waited for her pulse to slow down. She wanted him to rest and knew it might be easier if they were close.
"I figure this way," she said, "you'll wake up if I leave."
"Yes. This is only a required defensive measure," Hunter murmured.
Tiny green sprouts peeped from the ground. They stretched into soft strands, weaving together, creeping over her lap to create a thick blanket. Hunter was so drained he started to slide off her shoulder. She coaxed him onto the moss pillow over her lap. "This'll be more cozy," she said.
He didn't open his eyes and his breathing stayed soft. The side of his scarred face rested in the greenery. Little flowers started to spread down the the blanket, fanning out from where he lay.
He looked like a prince.
In a fairy tale she might be the witch that stole him away. She'd enchant him with her magic and wiles and make him hers. Send a thousand princesses her way. She'd defeat them all, cackling wildly as she did. Until the one true princess showed up—the one he loved, and that's when she'd finally crumble to dust, burned away by heartbreak.
It'd make a wonderfully tragic story.
In his sleep Hunter shifted, curling the tiniest bit closer. His whisper wasn't meant to be heard. "I missed you."
Feelings blossomed. I missed you too, she thought, not wishing to wake him. This was the first she'd ever seen him so peaceful.
His face carried such strong angles. She resisted the urge to touch, wondering how soft his hair might be, if having someone brush it felt nice the way it did for her. Curiosity about the defined ridge of his nose twitched her fingertips. She looked away.
With Hunter in her lap Willow rested against the wood wall. A witch and a grimwalker, huh. Could grimwalkers fall in love?
Clover and Flapjack curled together in the black cloak, snoozing.
After a while Willow summoned her scroll.