Part 7
Donatello froze. For a long moment, he stared at the blood and the sai, refusing to believe what he saw. The farm had always been safe, their escape from the rest of the world. And now? The farm wasn't safe. The farm wasn't safe. The monstrous new lesson beat into his brain with his pulse. The farm wasn't safe.
Raphael wasn't safe.
With mounting pressure in his ears, Donatello bent and picked up the sai, then looked back into the forest. Bare trees, white skeletal birches and old apple trees dark and covered in frost. In the wind, the branches clacked together and sent clumps of snow spilling to the hard earth. The trees and ground were empty, and yet for all the barren space, the white and brown splotches were impossible to see through.
The air seemed all too still and silent as he ran back to the house, looking over his shoulder the whole way. When he stumbled inside, slamming the door shut, the sudden heat burned his skin.
"Leo..." he panted, trying to find words to say and stammering. "Raph...I found it...he...something dragged into the trees..."
From the living room, giving Michelangelo a fresh cup of hot tea, Leonardo looked up at his brother. He saw the sai and his eyes widened. Without a word, he stood and came toward Dontello, gathering up his swords as he moved.
"When?" Leonardo demanded.
"I just found it," Donatello said, and his brother's focus cleared through the winter's chill in his brain. With a deep breath, he went and gathered his own staff. "Just now. He was coming to the barn but he didn't make it before whatever happened..."
Donatello looked up at his brother. "There was blood. And a long mark into the woods."
Leonardo growled to himself. "Dammit. I thought you two were talking. He left like ten minutes ago."
He glanced at their little brother, who'd started to stand only to bend over coughing.
"Stay put," Leonardo said. "Raph's a tank. Don't count him out yet. He might get back here before we do. Call us if he does. Keep the lights on. Don't fall asleep."
"Crap..." Michelangelo muttered between coughs, sitting back down on the futon. He pulled his nunchucks close, but he knew they'd be a last resort. "Sorry..."
"Don't be," Donatello said, following Leonardo to the door. "Maybe have tea ready when we get back?"
He didn't hear Michelangelo's answer, running at his brother's heels. At the splotch of blood in the snow, Leonardo knelt and examined the marks. Snowflakes dotted the blood, now turned to ice, and Leonardo frowned as he swept the accumulation away.
"Deer tracks..." he murmured. "That's weird."
He stood, and his gaze followed the drag marks into the trees. He nodded once.
"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "Hopefully they didn't get far."
They ran. Donatello felt horribly exposed, but creeping would have been useless. They were two green shadows in the woods and would have been easily visible even if they kept low. The trees themselves provided enough camouflage and distraction. Donatello hit his shoulder twice running into trunks that seemed farther than they actually were. The soft snow that had fallen calmly that morning now began to pick up, blowing in stronger gusts so that white sheets billowed in the wind.
"The storm's starting to cover the tracks," Leonardo said, his breath misting in the grey air. "A few more minutes and I'll have to rely on broken branches."
"A few more m-minutes," Donatello said, "and we're g-gonna have bigger problems."
If they'd had jackets... Donatello sighed. Warm clothing wouldn't have helped much. Their blood just didn't handle cold well. The spike of adrenalin and fear did more for them than a coat would have.
"There!"
Leonardo dashed forward. With a curse, Donatello ran after, first keeping up with his brother up a ridge and then spotting the dark green blur ahead.
Not unconscious but fighting, Raphael faced something larger than himself, ducking and weaving back and forth. He kept his fists up, trying to back away from whatever was in front of him. And at first Donatello had thought Raphael had thrown his remaining sai, but no, the sai was flying around in the air as if on strings.
"Raph!" Leonardo yelled, shifting his grip on his sword. "Down!"
As Raphael crouched low, Leonardo leaped blade first. Something jerked against the steel's edge and stumbled back. A spray of black liquid hit the snow and trees, and now they had dark coloring to help contrast against the endless branches and snow.
It stood on two legs but bent forward like an animal, skeletal thin and white. The head finally came into focus, elongated with exposed teeth snapping in the air like cracking twigs. And then it bent and swept an impossibly long arm around, catching Leonardo's shell and flinging him sideways into the snow.
"What the hell is it?" Raphael said, and he moved between his brother and the thing.
"Can't tell," Donatello said, swinging his staff to back it up and earn them some room. "I can barely see where it is."
"Aim for the sai," Leonardo said as he got back to his feet. "It's the easiest to-"
The thing's scream drowned his voice. Leaning forward into the hit, Donatello thrust his staff just below Raphael's sai, knocking it free, and the force of the impact rattled his teeth. The bone-white creature staggered back, turning its long head and bringing its teeth down on his staff. Wood splintered as it wrenched the staff out of his grasp.
Raphael rolled in low, grabbing his sai from where it'd fallen, and plunged it up into the creature's center. The sai's tip dug into a tough mass like gristle, and then the thing was screaming, screaming, flailing its arms. Black ichor covered his hands as it yanked itself off of his sai.
Easier to see the black splashes on the snow between its hoofed tracks than to actually see the creature itself as it backed into the forest. Behind it, the snow turned into a storm, thick and roaring with stinging wind, all but hiding its escape. There was a blur as it turned, blending with the branches, and it knocked against the trees like bones against wood.
Leonardo followed for several steps, but as he passed Raphael, his brother reached out and grabbed the edge of his shell, holding him back.
"Let it go!" Raphael yelled over the wind.
In disbelief, Leonardo glared at him and tried to pull out of his grasp, but Raphael's grip was iron.
"You can't follow that thing in a blizzard." Raphael waved his arm in its direction. The creatures tracks were already covered. "We're gonna freeze solid."
Leonardo hesitated, torn—a driving instinct told him to hunt it down now while it was wounded, dripping its black blood—but another tug on his shell made him sheathe his sword and turn away.
"Which way's the house?" Raphael said, leaning down so he'd be easier to hear over the wind. "I got turned around."
"This way." Donatello pointed. "We came in a straight line."
Following him, they sprinted back along what they thought was their trail in. As Raphael stumbled and Leonardo moved slower, Donatello stopped and slung Raphael's arm over his shoulder, put his arm around Leonardo's waist.
"Really hope you know which way you're going," Raphael muttered.
"S-so do I," Donatello said.
As the seconds stretched into minutes, Donatello started to doubt himself. Every direction looked the same and he didn't think they'd taken so long to come this far into the woods. Worse, they were no longer running. Even if he was right, they were trudging back so slowly that if the trees didn't stop soon—
They pushed through a thick patch of dried brambles and came out into a clear expanse of snow. Donatello looked up surprise. There was the road, but where was the house?
"Left," Leonardo slurred, shifting against his side.
Donatello glanced left and spotted the house. He'd been a little off target and taken them too far one way. With a huff, not caring that they were in broad daylight, he slogged through snow that came up to their knees, hauling them more and more. Each step came slower, and he gasped in frozen air, chilling himself further.
Halfway there, the kitchen door opened and Michelangelo came running out, taking Raphael's other arm. Donatello shifted his burden to his little brother and turned, bending so Leonardo could likewise lean on him.
"Dude," Michelangelo rasped, "what happened?"
"S-something attacked us," Donatello said. "C-couldn't tell."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Kinda freezing," Raphael growled. "Ask me again when I'm inside."
They went up into the kitchen into warmth. Donatello groaned at what felt like biting heat, but he managed to pull himself and Leonardo to the fireplace. As his brother curled up, Donatello threw another log on the fire and put his shell against the hearthstones.
Raphael plopped down beside him, pulling the closest blanket toward the fire to warm the cloth, then spreading it over Leonardo. When that didn't bring a response, he bent and pulled Leonardo closer, holding him against his side.
"Stupid big bro'," Raphael said. "Too little to go playing in snow."
"Stupid big bro'," Leonardo muttered, never opening his eyes. "Too dumb to avoid an ambush..."
"Least I didn't try to go running off into a blizzard," Raphael said. "After a...a..."
Raphael looked over at Donatello. "After a what?"
"I'll figure that out," Donatello said, "when my hands stop shaking."
"Hot coffee," Michelangelo said from the kitchen, coming in and handing one mug each to Donatello and Raphael, then another cup to Leonardo, nudging him so he'd take it. "And a hot tea. Got rice boiling and chicken in the oven, but that's gonna take a bit."
"Turning into a regular Suzy Homemaker," Raphael chuckled, holding the coffee in one hand and pressing his free hand against his temple to soothe his headache. "Thanks."
Michelangelo coughed, turning his head, and he waved away Raphael's comments. "Keep it up and I'll give you anything that burns."
"Long as it's hot," Raphael said, "I dun care."
"Anyone got frostbite?" Donatello asked, ignoring Leonardo's muttered 'no' and examining him anyway. "Raph, concussion?"
"Ain't feeling sick," Raphael said. "Knocked me for a loop, but I didn't go under. I just got a lot of bruises. That thing grips hard."
"There was blood on the snow," Donatello said, but he looked away down at the floor. "Huh. Blackish blood. Guess you got it good."
Raphael grinned, but he squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn if warming up don't hurt as bad as getting cold."
Donatello hissed. Raphael looked over at him and saw him brush away a few hot drops that had splashed his hand.
"Cold still got you shaking?" Raphael asked.
Donatello sighed and shoulders dropped. "No...not the cold."
Raphael watched him for a moment, then put his arm around him. Between them, Leonardo shifted and burrowed into the blanket.
"Thanks for coming after me," Raphael said in a low voice. "Even if I got away, would'a just gotten lost out there."
A weak smile crossed Donatello's face. They'd pulled Raphael back from the blizzard, but outside the snow streaked across the windows, pale gold as the sun sank behind the trees. The storm may have covered a good part of the New York countryside, but he felt like it centered over their little farmhouse, hovering and waiting for them to step out again.
Tbc...