The Shadower

by Punk19

With their just being returned to Moas, Angel and her sons are trying to settle into their new environment; it's not long before they become stressed by some force that continues to shadow and torment them and it's not long before their family adds more stress to what they're feeling. Who is shadowing them and will he stop to allow them to return to their former, new way of living?

17. Chapter 17

The room, for the last twenty to twenty-five minutes, had been quite dark; once the switch, that was to the right of its appointed door, was slapped to the ON-position, this changed in the blink of an eye. The very dark, red-brown vanity, that had a dark mahogany sink on it, and that had a three-way mirror above it; the mahogany bathtub and sink; and the multi-gray, contemporary floor tile shown brilliantly in the glow of the room's newly turned on lights. His image flashed in the Mosaic wall tile while he rushed to the vanity and its stationed mirror—at the moment, he could care less about how bright the room was or about what it looked like; his only concern, at the moment, was to get his hair done and then to get back downstairs before he was overly missed by his family.

Once he was at the vanity, he removed the wand, that was embedded in the loops of his pants; he gave the wand a flick right after it was in his hand then he opened his mouth to say the spell that was needed to be said for the mirror to grow and then wrap around him. Due to how out-of-breath he was, the spell that he wanted to say wasn't able to be done—after taking in two, deep breaths, he flicked his wand and then opened his mouth again. Unlike the last time, the spell was said and the mirror did as he wanted it to do.

"Ran a damn marathon to get up here; now, it's time to slow up some—so I can get my hair fixed to looking like it's mine instead of someone elses and so I don't have a bloomin' heart attack." he thought while the mirror wrapped itself around him.

Most of what he had owned when he had been on Earth was here; the old man, during his ransacking of his and his family's former apartment, had found all of what he had hidden under the downstairs bathroom floor—instead of finding it, and then discarding it, he had sent it here, where it had been set-up for him. While it had taken him a while to get back in the groove of being him, and of using the stuff that had been set-up for him, he was glad that most of what he had owned while being on Earth was still in his possession—and he was double-glad that he was allowed to use the stuff that he used on his hair without finding someone as "standing guard" at his elbow; with the way his father was, he had figured that he'd do this right after learning that he was back at it in using the various items that he used on his hair.

A set of trays had been rigged to the wall that was beside the vanity; the three boxes, that his various hair-care items were in, were neatly placed on them. The first tray had the box that had the more important stuff in it—the metal rod, that he used to grab strands of his hair with; a small brush; a small comb; and a pair of silver-chrome hairdressing scissors—while the box that was on the second tray had the stuff that he used to give his hair some style—the two, four inch long by two and half inch wide plastic containers, that contained his collection of red, yellow, light blue, and light purple beads and feathers, and the small, round, ceramic bowl, that had nothing but hair-use rubber bands in it, was what was in this box. The box that was on the last tray had the stuff that he no longer used on his hair in it—the ribbons had been used once before being placed in the box and the same went with the gaily-colored beads and feathers; the two containers of light purple and black hair color dye had been given the same treatment. The old man had gone out of his way to purchase him some new beads sometime after all of this had been set up—the gold-colored beads, and the beads that had a light and dark purple, leopard print design on them, were in the second box while the color-changing beads were in the third box. He had "tried" the color-changing beads a few days ago and he had found himself as not liking them, so they had been added to the box that his dis-use hair-care stuff was in.

"Quit lollygagging and do what you're here to do!" he snapped at himself after the mirror finished wrapping itself around him.

The metal rod, that he was taking from the first box, wasn't the one that he had owned when he had been on Earth; the original rod had been found as being missing on the day that he had decided to resume his old habit of fixing his hair up. After turning the boxes inside out, and then after turning both his bedroom and its stationed bathroom upside down, he had gone to find his mother. Seeing as they were about to be taken out for breakfast, he hadn't been able to ask her about it—he had been forced to wait until after their trip to Laetiquoar Buffet concluded. After the meal at the restaurant was over, and after they were home and somewhat unwound from that morning's events, he had asked her about it—with his father being in the area, he hadn't had to ask her to ask him where the item was; the man, after saying that he had thrown it out, and after explaining the reason to why he had thrown it out, had promised to get him a new rod to use on his hair. The metal rod that he was about to use looked exactly like his old one—it was thin, medium gray in color, and chicken wire-like in appearance. Once this rod was in his possession, he shoved it into his hair then gave it three twists; after having a decent-sized strand of hair on the rod, he pulled the rod to the side then, with his free hand, reached for one of the gold-colored beads.

"If it works then why get rid of it, or stop using it?" he asked himself while sliding one of the beads onto the strand of hair that he had collected. He said a spell, that braided a small section of the strand that he was holding, then he slid another bead in place; he did this twice more before tying the strand off with a rubber band.

Last night, he had noticed that his hair had grown to five inches and that it had more than enough split ends in it; he had used the pair of hairdressing scissors to snip his hair back to his preferred length of four and a half inches then he had examined his hair to see if he had gotten rid of all of the issues that he had noticed with it—a nod had been given, then his middle finger had been shot at his reflection, then the scissors had been returned to their box after he had seen that his hair was back in order again.

He made use of the metal rod four more times; two strands of hair were fully braided while another was half braided—the half-braided strand of hair had a bright yellow feather embedded in it. After a little consideration, he decided to go on and give the color-changing beads another try—since he didn't want to hurt dear old daddy's feelings, he might as well try to get use to them. He slid one of the beads onto the fifth strand of hair that he had collected, then he said the spell to make a small section become braided, then he placed another bead behind it; he did this twice more before tying the strand off with a rubber band. With his hair fixed, and with the metal rod being back to being in its box, and with the spell that'd return the mirror to its original appearance having been said, and with the mirror halfway returned to looking the way it had before he had come into the room, he turned then fled the room that he had run to.

The door to his room was wide open; he ran out it, then down the level's hallway, then down the stairs, then down the second level's hallway, and then down the stairwell that wound around the foyer's right side. In all, it took him two to three minutes of running before he reached his family—who he had left long enough to do his hair after learning, and then remembering, that there was something on their agenda that they were to do today.

Seeing as he had broken his neck in getting to his room's bathroom, and then to get down to the houses's first level after finishing the chore of doing his hair, it was no surprise to him, or to his family, that he was winded after reaching them.

"Quick! Someone get him a breathin' mask!" Lazeer exclaimed almost immediately after he arrived in the hallway that his family was on. "He's about to keel over!"

"Lazeer, that's enough." TazirVile said. "Hazaar, thought I told you to not run in the house."

"S-s-sorry," Hazaar gasped. "I d-didn't mean t—"

"There's no need for you to of rushed yourself," TazirVile said. "We had no issue in waiting for you."

"What do you have up your sleeve for us today, dad?" Lhaklar asked.

Instead of answering his son, TazirVile reached into his dark green tuxedo jacket. The long pieces of fabric, that were in his inside jacket pocket, were taken out and then given to his sons. Only after distributing the pieces of fabric did he speak.

"I want you to wrap these around your heads—cover your eyes." After saying this, he turned to look at his wife, who was standing right behind him. He gave the lone piece of fabric that was on his person to her then he smiled at her. "That includes you, My Dear Lovely Wife."

"I'd love to but I'm afraid that I'm allergic to blindfolds." Lhaklar said.

"Same here." Hazaar said.

"Oh, well, I guess that you two will miss out on this thing that I've got planned for you, your mother, and your brothers then." TazirVile said. He looked at Lazeer, who was fingering the piece of fabric that he had given him; his wife, and Bile, had already slid their blindfolds on. Neither had said a thing about being blindfolded. "So, is this it for today? It'll just be my wife, and Bile, who'll join me on what I've got planned for us?"

Even though he grumbled, he put the blindfold over his head; he fiddled with the part that went over his eyes for a bit before reaching forward—the feel-around routine was done for a few seconds before a shoulder was felt and then grabbed.

The act of his being given a blindfold, and then being told to put it on, didn't sound right; why couldn't the old Foggy tell them to just plain close their eyes, and then grab the shoulder nearest them, or, better yet, just lead them to whatever he had planned while they were fully able to see what was going on around them? He didn't see reason in this and he didn't like the idea of his wearing a blindfold while being led to some unknown location either; the idea of the old man taking their blindfolded selves somewhere, then telling them to stand put, then making a swift getaway before yelling for them to remove their blindfolds came to him easily—he could see the man's backside growing distant from him and his family now, and he could also hear the gasps, and see the shocked expressions that overcame his and his family's faces, after they saw that they had been taken and then left all alone in a location that was a distance from home.

The last two days had been fine; while they were still getting use to the Ubalki's they weren't as nervous of them as they had been on the day of their arrival. Hazaar, just yesterday, had actually calmed down long enough to hang around Phaggo for a short while; he had done the same with Efagti and their grandfather—though, with the latter two, his sticking around them had been a lot briefer than his stay with Phaggo. As far as he could tell, Amadh was okay. A bit funny, reminded him of himself sometimes, but cool; the guy did have an adult side to himself that he had discovered just before breakfast concluded that morning—after inserting a curse word into one of the jokes that he had said, the man had come back as saying that he didn't need to cuss and that being a joker didn't mean that you can be so open in throwing curse words. His parents, who had looked rather shocked over hearing him saying that to him, had agreed whole-heartily with him.

While he wasn't one to curse all the time, and while he knew better than to curse in front of others, or in public, he did like to be open; he guessed that the days of his being open with the whole of his family were few and far—he could curse in front of his mother and brothers but, with the rest of his family, he couldn't. The bit to his bridle, sadly, had been put into effect after Amadh had said something about his not needing to throw a cuss word into what all he said or joked about.

Lhaklar, he had noted, was somewhat worried about Bile; normally, the Big Guy would speak after waking up, and when they were at the table—not so much as a peep had been heard from his oldest brother all during breakfast. Usually, Bile was only quiet and to himself when he hadn't gotten in a good night's sleep; while there were some dark areas under his brother's eyes, and while he looked to be walking around in a near-daze, he didn't look to of gone through an all-nighter in not getting any sleep. If he had to make any guesses, Bile might of gotten three to five hours of sleep last night.

"Which is the near-standard amount of sleep that any one being gets." he thought while walking on. The hand that was on his shoulder, he figured, was Lhaklar's—his foot was still giving him trouble, so it was quite easy for him to think that it was he who was following him.

What his brother didn't know was that his foot was killing him—it was still very swollen and, due to his being stubborn in wanting to use it, it had gone from being normal colored to a mixed, dark green-light green-medium green color. Despite this, he was trudging on—the old man obviously wanted him to come along; he had neither said for him to lean up against a Goblin, or had asked for a Goblin to help him in walking to wherever he was taking him and his family, or had said for him to sit what he had planned for everyone out.

With the sounding of his alarm clock, he had gotten up and then gone straight to his bedroom's adjacent bathroom; a shower had been taken, then his teeth had been brushed, then he had returned to his bedroom to get dressed. The red, orange, and brown striped, long sleeve, button down shirt was tucked in well and the pair of dark brown formal pants had a near-black belt around their waist; the process of putting the pair of light brown socks, and his usual pair of brown shoes, on his feet had been hairy—because of his still injured foot—but he had managed to get them on without yelling, groaning, or admitting defeat and then deciding to go around barefoot that day. After getting himself squared away in the bathroom, then getting himself dressed, he had gone down for breakfast—which had come to a close nearly thirty minutes ago.

The old man, about twenty minutes after breakfast concluded, had made the call for everyone to come to him and then to follow him; he had questioned Hazaar's antsiness after noting it, then, after being told that he had "left something upstairs", he had said for him to go up and that they'd wait for him. Waiting for him to do his hair had been annoying, yes, but he had relished in the small break in using his foot.

He was still limping, and pretty badly too, but that didn't slow him down from following the one that was in front of him. He didn't know where he was, or where he was being led to—unlike Lazeer, who had let his mind run on him in thinking that the old man was planning on taking them somewhere and then running off, leaving them all by their lonesome, he thought that they were being taken to a part of the house, or its adjoined property. The one who's shoulder he had a-hold of walked for a while before, finally, coming to a stop; the brother who's shoulder he had took a few steps after stopping then came to another stop, which seemed to be a permanent one as he didn't move further after this final stop was made. He was just about to ask where he was, and what it was that was shining through the fabric of his blindfold, when a pair of hands touched his shoulder; he was guided to the left by about two or three steps before being led down what he thought was a flight of steps. Once down the flight of steps, he was told to stop and to stay put.

"Alright. Everyone, remove your blindfolds." Lhaklar heard his father say.

He did as he was told; once his blindfold was off, he blinked his eyes then turned. Lazeer, he saw, had been stopped right after leaving the mansion; his little brother was removing his peanut-shaped eye-glass case, which was in his back pants pocket. Lazeer, after taking his goggled glass from his case, then affixing it over his eye, went towards the porch steps; his descent down the stairs was slow, and cautious, but he made it to the very bright area that he, and their brothers, were standing in.

"You four know the score now." his father, who was standing just before their mother, said. "Go, do some exploring—Lazeer, that includes you. No excuses this time."

He should of known that this was what his father had up his sleeve for them today; while he was glad to finally have the chance to try out his new goggled glass, and be able to do as one who didn't have an eye ailment could, he was a trifle bit nervous about being told to go out on his lonesome in a yard that was as big as what was in front of him. His brothers were fast in moving away from him; he looked at the mansion before turning back to look at the yard—the mansion's back was burgundy in color, and looked to boast a lot of windows on it; he had seen a few balconies, and a roof that spiraled up, and that was capped by what-looked-like a gold sphere, while gazing at the building's back.

Hazaar went off to where the shore was; he followed him for a while before deciding to go towards the stable. Lhaklar, he noticed, was heading in the same direction that Bile had gone in—he was fast in figuring that the two were planning on having a smoke together while conversating on matters that had been going on in their present lives.

Eshal, Blaiga, and Defe were gathering a few flowers, that were growing by the outside fence of one of the horse pastures; Phaggo was currently being chased by Qhuakiz, who seemed to have a bit too much energy that morning. He had no clue as to where his grandparents, or his aunt, or his two older uncles, were; no sight of them was able to be seen in the yard.

"Might as well check in on the animals, and see what all baby horses were born over the last few days." he said just before entering the stable, which looked more like a long barn instead of a stable to him. He ducked into the stable then he "disappeared" right when his second oldest brother started tracking their older brother down.

Lhaklar did a single, slow turn before moving forward in a straight line; with the way his brother had acted that morning, he wanted to speak to him and he wanted to know what was up with him. Bile, though sometimes being hard-headed and stubborn, was usually a good-natured guy who spoke and included others in certain activities. Bile had just shut himself off to everyone that morning and he wanted to know why.

Though it took him a while, he reached the section of the yard that, at one time, been open and empty of any sort of foliage. Trees that had long, green and yellow tendrils hanging from their branches; trees that resembled the ones that had the red and pink flowers on them; and Weeping Willow-like trees had been planted and then allowed to grow all along this part of the yard—while thinking that all of this was pretty he also thought that this was a bit too much. In all, he saw six to eight trees before, finally, finding the one that his brother had "escaped" to. He went to this tree, which had a row of bushes, that had white leaves on them, around it, then he ducked under its assortment of hanging matter; Bile, to his surprise, wasn't only under the tree's foliage but was also holding a joint between the fingers of his right hand. Bile, who had gone from being calm to tense after seeing the tree's hanging foliage being parted, calmed down after seeing that it was he who had found his hiding spot.

"Bile, you crazy?" Lhaklar whispered. He walked over then sat beside his brother.

"No, I'm taking advantage of a good hiding place to have a smoke." Bile replied while leaning back on the log that he had taken to sit before. He made a tiny flame appear on the end of his index finger; the end of the joint was held to the flame for only a second before having its other end placed in its holder's mouth. Bile took a long drag from the stick; he held the smoke in for several seconds before exhaling. "Worth every step here—I'll do some exploring after I'm done with this."

"You feeling alright this morning?" Lhaklar asked. He exhumed his stash of cigarettes from the ground; one of the packs was taken up, then opened, then had one of its cigarettes removed from it. Once in possession of a cigarette, he sent his stash back to being under the ground. "You was rather quiet when we were eating breakfast."

"So what." Bile shot. "Can't a man have a quiet moment?"

"You're usually not the quiet type, or the type to be quiet in the morning hours." Lhaklar said while putting his cigarette in his mouth. He shot a small beam of energy at the other end of his cigarette then he took a drag.

"I was still waking up,"

"You do have some bags under your eyes." Lhaklar nodded his head. He took a small puff from his cigarette before leaning back against the log that his brother was leaning against.

They said nothing more to one another for a few minutes; Bile smoked his joint, and he smoked his cigarette, before the conversation that caused him to think that his brother was crazy, and that caused him to nearly take a trip to Fear Lane, occurred.

Bile was much like him and their brothers—he was a Mama's Boy. While he sometimes joked about it, he never spoke about leaving the nest, or about wanting to strike out on his own, in a serious manner—the fact that his brother was sitting here, telling him that he wasn't sure about things, and that he wanted to leave, scared him half to death. Bile claimed that, while he was able to take living here before, he wasn't able to anymore; he also claimed that he felt himself as being too restricted. After a few seconds passed, he said that he didn't feel worthy of living where they were and that he missed Earth. He was just clearing his throat to speak to his brother, and to tell him to not be so silly, when his brother said that he felt like there were eyes watching his every move.

While he felt the same as Bile did, and while he understand where Bile was coming from, he thought that his brother was losing it a bit; he did feel a little awkward in the house, and with his "new" life, but he was getting use to it. Up to now, he had figured that his brother was doing the same. He guessed that he understood how Bile felt about the eyes thing, and about feeling that his every move was being watched, but he couldn't see that as reason enough for his brother to be speaking in the way that he was. Now that they were allowed to go outside, and explore the yard, they could escape that feeling... they could escape things. They could breathe, and be on their own, and think their thoughts, and maybe even talk to one another, without feeling the presence of someone watching them.

Lhaklar finished his cigarette, then he stubbed it out before making the whole of his hand become engulfed in flames—the remnants of his cigarette were incinerated in less than a fraction of a second. After doing this, he turned to speak to his brother about what he had said—he didn't know if his brother was serious about leaving but he did know that he didn't want him to leave. He loved the guy; he was close to his older half-brother and he knew that Hazaar and Lazeer were too. If Bile up and left, he'd be crushing not only him, Hazaar, and Lazeer but also their mother... and he'd also make their mother become hysterical if he decided to leave.

"Where are you planning on going after you leave us?" Lhaklar asked. "Do you have a plan in motion? What are you going to do? Are you planning on finding work? What type of housing are you going to take up to live in? Food, and the utilities, don't pay themselves, you know."

"Back to Green River, where else?" Bile sounded distant; he didn't sound like he was fully there. Lhaklar took one look at his brother before flashing his hand at his face.

"You, like the rest of us, said that you didn't want to be away from mom. You said that you loved her so much, and that you couldn't bare to be away from her, or from us. You said that the years when we were in school were horrible for you—you missed us and you didn't want to spend a minute of any day away from us." Lhaklar's chest was heavy; he almost felt like crying at that moment. "You leave here and you crush our mother and us. You want our mother being brought to tears because one of her sons disappeared? You want us, your brothers, to feel like we're not complete because you can't get a grip on yourself?"

"What're you talking about man? I'm not leaving here on my own—I'm taking all of you with me." Bile said while giving his head a shake. "You're my family, but I can't stay here. I can't when—"

"You can if you try," Lhaklar said. "You were doing well yesterday, and the days that preceded yesterday. What happened? Seems that you've gone from being fine and dandy with things to not being so fine and da—"

"Places like this make dreams happen, man. Recurring dreams, and nightmares that make one wake up drenched in sweat, and breathing heavy." Bile, again, sounded not there; Lhaklar was about to slap him again when he said something that stopped him. "I saw our apartment go up in a violent explosion last night... in the dream that I had, then I saw a shadow walk away from its flaming remains. Even after waking up, then staying awake for minutes on end, then going back to sleep, it resumed itself from where it ended."

Since he had already seen "Mohund Breeding Central"—aka, the building that was near the shore—he steered clear of it; after walking along the rocky shore for a bit, getting a bit of ocean water splashed on him, and trying to get somewhat use to the planet's natural surface, he turned then started towards the area that was flanked by the rose bushes. A trail led away from the rocky shore so, after reaching it, he went down it; due to what happened during the last time that he and his had been allowed to explore the backyard, he hadn't been able to see what was in the area that was flanked by the bushes. He had plans to check the area out that morning and, if he had time to do so, he also had plans to check out the building that looked like a cave.

The path, while starting out as being the planet's natural surface, which had either been sanded or very heavily smoothed out, gained an artificial surface to it almost immediately after he started down it. To him, it looked like the artificial grass had been fused with the natural surface that it had been put on—during a small stop, to take in his surroundings, he had seen that the roots of the grass were clinging onto the smoothed-over rocky surface that it was on. He had also seen that some of the roots disappeared after fusing with the natural terrain as well—he found this to be interesting; as much as it boggled his mind, the artificial blue grass seemed to of taken a liking to the original terrain... which looked to still have its natural color to it.

From what he had heard, artificial terrain caused the terrain that was already present on the ground to turn colors—due to the original terrain being covered over, it wasn't able to get the light that it needed, which caused it to lose out on getting the nutrients that it needed to stay healthy and to grow. Artificial terrain was said to be rough; it caused a lot of painful, open lesions to occur to the ones that used it—due to this type of terrain having all sorts of bacteria on it, that survived for long periods of time, the risk of getting an infection was high for ones who gained injuries while either putting it down or using it to play on. When he put his hand on the terrain that was over the smoothed-over, natural terrain of the planet, he noted that it was soft... and sort of real in texture. On Earth, the wet-like feeling wouldn't be all that present in artificial terrain but, here on this planet, this type of terrain had a wet-like outer coating. While he didn't know what all fell between pre-dawn and dawn on the planet he was fast in thinking that this moisture was dew—other than rain, or ocean spray, what else could it be?

After standing, then moving on towards the area that he wanted to go towards, he saw several birds hopping and skipping along on both the artificial grass and on the natural, rocky terrain; they were pecking at the ground, looking for bugs, or seed... it looked like they weren't fazed by the artificial terrain that was in their environment and it looked like the artificial terrain wasn't fazed by them being in its environment. During the process of his checking out the grass's texture, he saw beetles, and a sort of ant-like insect; before getting up, he had seen something that looked like a crawling worm—this thing had around six to eight legs on it, but, judging by the way it moved, and by how "wet" it looked, he was sure that it wasn't a millipede or a centipede. He had picked this insect up; it had crawled about on his hand for a bit before being placed back on the ground. He had moved away from the area that he had stopped to look at after the worm was returned to where he had gotten it.

"Young Master Hazaar," a burly, four foot, ten inch Goblin, who's brown hair was all slicked back, said.

"Uh, hello." Hazaar said in return.

"Is everything well with you this morning, sir?" the Goblin, who's brown skin looked a bit too dry to him, and who's green eyes looked a bit too wondering, asked.

"Uhhh, yeah." Hazaar said.

He walked away from the Goblin; while the man had looked, and sounded, friendly he had still had a look in his eye that he hadn't much liked. His father, the last time that he and his brothers had been allowed to explore the backyard, had appointed several of his staff to keep watch of them and to, of course, keep an eye on the reporters and to keep them back; he figured that his father had done this again on this second attempt of their exploring this part of his property.

He figured that the Goblin was just being friendly, and polite in acknowledging him, but he still felt a bit awkward by his coming out of nowhere; up to the Goblin's voice being heard, he hadn't known that he had been around him. The Goblin that he had just spoken with he remembered—he had been one of the guys that had "helped" the old man in escorting him and Lhaklar from the room that they had been put in; they had been captured, and then taken to the ship's medical chamber, and the Goblins had been told to form a ring around them so they'd not be "tempted" into running away. While he couldn't remember what the guy's name was he did remember that he was very obedient to his father—or, at least he had been on that day when he and Lhaklar had been captured and then escorted to the ship's medical chamber for examinations, wound treating, and then physicals.

After going a short distance down the path, he reached a section of bushes that flanked the area of interest; he was just looking over the bushes, and getting his first sight of what the area looked like, when a big, blue bird, that had the longest tail that he had ever seen on a flying avian, flew out at him. He emitted a gasp while falling back then, after the skin of his elbow was scraped clean after he collided with the artificial terrain of the path, he yelled—the Goblin that he had spoken with rushed over at once. He helped him to his feet then he checked his elbow before speaking.

"Sir, are you okay?" the Goblin asked. "Should I call for your parents?"

"No, I'm fine." Hazaar replied before pulling his elbow up. He examined his elbow then he winced—with the exception of the skin being scraped away in some areas he had two deep scratches on that part of his body. The act of his getting scared by a bird angered him—he had no fear of birds; the bird that had come from the bush had been more scared of him than he had been of it yet he had still reacted in a girlie fashion to being surprised by its presence.

"Sir?" Hazaar shook his head; he had been so immersed in his scrape, and in his anger over being spooked by a bird, that he had lost track with reality. The Goblin was standing beside him; he was giving him a bit of a concerned look.

"I'm fine, just a scrape." Hazaar said. "I've had dozens—it's nothing to be worried about."

"You sure, sir?" the Goblin asked before pointing out, "Your elbow is bleeding in two places, sir."

"I'm fine—" Hazaar searched his brain for the Goblin's name; after a few seconds of searching, all he came up with was Apeelo. After coming up with that name, he said it. "Apeelo?"

"Abevo, sir." the Goblin bowed. "Abevo Speelin; younger brother of Kalach Speelin, who's one of your mother's most trusted confidants."

"What kind of bird was that?" Hazaar asked. "It looked like it had a right long, dark blue tail on it."

"Catali, sir. Your father's been having a time with them this planting season." Abevo replied.

"Why? Are they doing something in the area flanked by the bushes?" Hazaar asked.

"No sir. They don't mess with the garden, or with its produce." Abevo replied. "They come from a small island that's located north of here. The island was recently treated with a sort of spray that's used to bring in insects—the birds, when they rub themselves against the island's foliage, get the spray on themselves then they spread it around by migrating to other areas. They've got a nesting area around here, and their feeding grounds are very close to your father's place—wherever they fly, or land, they spread the spray that they've gained on themselves. The insects have been having a field day with the plants this planting season because of this—your father, about two to three times this year, has had to call in a specialist to spray everything down with a chemical that's suppose to keep the insects away."

"Why's he still having problems with the birds if the counter-spray's been used to send the bugs away?" Hazaar asked. He found himself as being very interested in the spray that the birds were flying in and in the insects that the spray was said to be attracting.

"They've become attracted to the area because of the insects—due to their spending continuous time on that island, they're always coming in with more of that spray, which is doing double-time in attracting the insects." Abevo replied. "Your father, just last afternoon, gave the order for everything in the garden to be pulled up. He's going to start over—there's a few in-door gardens in the mansion that he has plans to use now."

"Why hasn't he contacted the people responsible for spraying the island that the birds are coming from? Surely the birds are getting sick from the spray that they're getting on themselves." although he was glad to hear that his father had a Plan B with his garden he felt a bit sad over the fact that the birds were flying about with a spray on their bodies that could well harm their health.

"He has, sir. The island is said to be a sort of reserve—it has several species of turtle, frog, and bat on it that's wanted to be preserved for future generations." Abevo responded. "The spray was only used as a means to bring in the insects for them animals—the island, about a year ago, lost all of its insect life and no one knows the reason to why. The Catali isn't one of the island's natural fauna; it's cousin, the Satadi, is but it isn't. The people who run the island are also having a time with the Catali's."

"When did they start having this problem?" Hazaar asked.

"Just before the island's insect life disappeared." Abevo replied. "The Catali is from the far south. It's a tropical bird, and it's normally found in areas that're more tropical than this. For the last two years, the seasons down south of here have been a bit crazy so it's believed that they migrated up here after their normal environment became too cold for them."

That had happened on Earth too—the seasons turned in a certain place, which forced the local avian life into leaving for another area, where they found that everything that they had been lacking in their former area was in abundance and where they decided to just take up permanent residence in, which did more than put the new area's natural flora and fauna under strain because they were under threat by something that they weren't use or adapted to. The mass migration of April 2708 had caused a lot of trouble for both farmers and for most of the population on Earth—due to half of the world's tropical species of birds migrating, and carrying all sorts of diseases on them, a plague had started, which had wiped a lot of the world's human population out. As a way to eradicate the disease, and get things back to the way they were before everyone started getting sick, nearly ten species of tropical bird was wiped out—in the four years that followed the start of the plague, around thirty species of bird were caught in nets and then humanely euthanized as a way to stop the disease from spreading. The plague had no more been beat before a major climate shift occurred—certain deserts had been flooded out; certain areas that were known to be lush with grass, or tropical plants, became desert-like; the colder areas to the north became warmer while the warmer ones to the south became colder; and certain water sources either evaporated or overflowed their banks. In all, it had taken around six to eight years before the climate returned to normal—he and his family, due to having left Granny D's abode, and being out on their own, had experienced the fear-period of the plague and then the hardships of the climate change that followed the plague.

He still found it fascinating about how a single, small thing could cause one, or a whole bunch of species to migrate and he also found it fascinating about how one or more of them species of migrating animals could carry a disease but not show any signs of it—the birds that had carried the Avian flu on them had shown no adverse side effects of the disease; they had looked as healthy as could be, which was why it had taken the humans nearly four months to figure out that it was them that was bringing in the disease that was killing them.

After being told about the bird problem, and about the issue that it was causing for the people who lived in the area, and after thinking about the Avian flu of 2708, he shook his throbbing elbow; after shaking his elbow, he went to give the area beyond the rose bushes a once-over.

"Abevo said that this was a garden, and that it's been effected by the insects that the spray that the birds are bringing in... Looks fine to me." he thought after looking over the rose bushes.

At first glance, the garden, which was pretty big for the area that it was in, looked fine. The plants had green leaves on them, and the produce looked to be in better than fine order; he was about to turn and then ask Mr. Speelin if he was pulling his leg on what he had told him when something caught his eye. There was a break in the bushes near him; he went to it, then he entered the garden, then he grabbed the stalk of what he thought was a bean plant. After taking the stalk of the bean-looking plant in his hand, he grabbed one of the pods that the beans were in; after squeezing it, he grimaced—the substance, that came out of the pod, was black and it had an odor to it that was revolting.

After squeezing the pod, then getting the black substance on him, he started looking for something to wash his hand with—after finding a nearby water spigot, then rinsing his hands off, he had a repeat of what happened with the bean pod. The seemingly ripe tomato, that he took from one of the nearby tomato plants, was squeezed before being placed on the ground—he became something like a scientist in tearing it apart afterwards.

The area's produce, he was fast in figuring, looked ripe and delicious on the outside while, on the inside, it was mushy and unhealthy looking; after tearing the tomato apart, and getting the oozy substance all over the place in the process, he got up then went back to the spigot. He was fast in washing both of his hands after reaching it.

His father's garden had both flowers and produce in it; it ran for, what he believed, miles and it was evenly divided. Garden produce was on its left side while the right was full of flowers—yellow, red, purple, black and white, purple and white, red and black striped, and a sort of flower that looked like a Venus Fly Tray bobbed in the morning breeze. The carrots, potatoes, grapes, squash, lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, and cucumbers all looked ready for picking while the onion, celery, peas, beans, collard greens, and kale looked near-ready for picking. To the far back of the garden, he was able to see that yams, ginger, radishes, peppers, pumpkins, corn, and eggplant were growing. This large garden, which was full of just about anything that one ate on a daily basis, was disease-ridden; nothing that was in it was healthy to eat and, from what he had been told, it was slated to be destroyed... and all because of a stupid spray that the stupid birds had brought in.

The flowers, he saw after going towards them, then giving them a quick once-over, weren't fine either. Like with the produce, they were bad. They were discolored in the middle, and the stalks were very fragile. When he looked at the leaves of the plants that were near him, he saw that each were flooded with a weird assortment of insect—they were tiny, and beetle-like in appearance, and it looked like they were gnawing at both the leaves and the noticeable roots and stems of the plants that they were on. After noticing that the bugs were drilling into the noticeable root matter, and the stems of the plants that the roots went to, he put two-and-two together on what was going on—the spray had already caused the plants to put out in-edible matter while the bugs, with their habit of drilling into the plant, and causing the plant to lose its nutrients, were causing the plant to be unstable and not able to fight off what the spray was causing to happen to it.

"Good thing to have an inside garden then—while starting over is a hassle, this shit won't be happening to the produce now that it's to all be grown inside the house." he thought while leaving the disease-ridden garden.

After leaving the garden, he went towards the building that looked like a cave. Abevo, who had been watching him as he explored the garden, and as he demolished the bean pod and tomato, stayed behind; he was glad to note that he was staying where he was because he didn't like the idea of someone who was unrelated to him following or sticking his nose in on what he was doing. It was a short while before he reached the building—though nearly drenched in sweat, and though nearly ready to turn and then return to the mansion, he continued with what he wanted to do.

He thought that the building's thick, wooden door would be locked, so he made his initial pull be a weak one; with the door shooting to the side like it did, he had no choice but to gasp or to let gravity take over in bringing him down to the ground. After getting to his feet, he grabbed the door then opened it a bit more; once the door was open to his preference, he went in. The last thing that he saw, before entering the building, were the two Goblins; the two men were talking, and were coming in his direction, but they didn't seem alarmed or hurried so he figured that they were just coming in closer out of wanting to ensure that none of the reporters, who were still out on the ocean, in their boats, got the idea of rushing in to bother him.

"Lazeer, you are going to be so friggin' jealous!" Hazaar said after entering the building, then making a small flame appear in the center of the suction cup of his right index finger.

The building turned out to be a place where both boats and boating equipment was stored; the row of boats, that looked to run all the way to the building's far back wall, were on a pair of grooves, which had been rock-cut into the natural floor of the building. The two boats, that were at the start of the line, were long, sleek, and it looked like they had a single, but finely powered, engine on them. When he went to take a closer look at these boats, he saw that they had been given a wood-like paint job; after grabbing the side of one of the boats, then pulling himself up, so he could see what it looked like on the inside, he saw that it could seat up to three people and that the aisle that was between the three seats was short, but rather wide. He was fast in thinking that the boats were used more for fishing than for plain cruising—to him, they were just not built for speed.

While he was going down the aisle, that was between the two rows of boats, one of the two Goblins, that he had seen earlier, poked his head into the building; the man noted where he was, and what he was doing, then he removed his head from the building. He, in the time that the Goblin was checking him out, had looked at three other boats—two of them had looked like the standard rowboat while the other had looked like it had been built for speed. He was just gearing up to leave the building when he saw the normal and the inflatable sailboats, the three kayaks, the two surf boards, and the two jet skis; except for the neatly arranged boats and skis, the other equipment was against the left-side wall of the building. When he turned around, he saw that there was other equipment—oxygen tanks, flippers and wet-suits, breathing apparatuses and masks, oars, spare parts for engines, and the such—lining the building's other side.

Long before entering the building, and then taking in its wide assortment of stuff, he had perceived his father as being weird; while he still thought that his father was weird he now thought that he was also a thrill-seeker—why else would he have all of this equipment in this building if he wasn't one?While on his way to leaving the building, he saw that the man had parachutes—the type that one would use when they're parasailing—, and life vests, and several weapons that one would use when they're fishing for sharks or other large creatures that called the ocean home. Harpoons, guns that carried heavy ammo in them, coils of rope, all sorts of fishing poles, and the such was what he saw when he passed by the weaponry that was all lined up beside the parachutes and life vests. Before exiting the building, then closing the door behind him, he stopped to take in what was under the tarp, that was to the left of the two boats that were sitting just before the building's door. After drawing the tarp to the side, he smiled—more than two sets of water skis were lying under it.

"Can't see the old man using them, but can see me, or one of my brothers, using them." he thought while exiting the building. While closing the door to the building, he found himself as getting a small bit of assistance—one of the two Goblins grabbed the hand-folds in the door then heaved with him. After thanking the man for his assistance, he turned then went towards the stable, which he could barely see from where he was. While he went towards the stable, he wondered where Lazeer was and what he was doing.

While his brother was wondering about him, and was coming towards the building that he was in, he was taking in the sights and smells of the stable-like barn that he had entered several minutes ago. The stable was colored like any other stable found on Earth—red front and sides, and, he presumed, back; the boards that crossed the doors of the stable were white while the roof was gray. He had figured that he'd find a few animals in the structure—instead of finding between one and three stable-worthy animals he had found ten, and that was barely scratching the surface. The structure, on the outside, looked rather small and comfortable while, on the inside, it was rather spacious... but still rather comfortable. To him, the horses that he had seen in the first three stalls were far more superior than that of what was found on Earth.

The horses were sleek in build, and beautifully muscled; their bodies were very beautifully conformed to their necks, heads, and legs. Surprisingly, the horses that were in the stable had not an ounce of fat on them—even the mother horses, that had babies at their sides, were trim and fat-less.

The old foggy had been all agog with energy the last few days over his horses; some of his horses had been due to have their babies and he had been looking both after and out for them. From what he was able to see, there were five baby horses in the stable that looked anywhere between one and three days old.

When he looked in the stall that was to his immediate right, he saw the first of the five babies in the building. It had its mama's black coat but, unlike its mama, it had a semi-white mane and tail; this baby, which looked of the male gender, looked no more than two days old. The mother horse still had a lot of fire in her eyes so he was fast in checking her, and her baby, out and in moving on down the aisle.

The horse, that was in the stall that was beside the black one's own, was very pretty; her coat was a nice and shiny, bright gray color while her mane and tail were as white as could be. The yellow baby at her side looked no more than a day old—when the mother horse's ears became flattened, and when she took a menacing step towards him, he moved on.

The horse, that was in the stall that was beside the gray horse's own, had a very colorful pattern on her; the red in her coat was laced with white, which gave her a rust-like coloration. She had a white face and four tall stockings on her legs. Surprisingly, her three-day old baby was a solid, reddish brown color—with the mother horse being the color that she was, he had figured that she'd throw a much more vividly colored baby. Like with the other two horses, this one gave him the signal to move on, which he did.

When he came to the horse, that was in the stall that was beside the one that had the reddish-brown baby in it, he had to stop and stare in disbelief. The dished head of this horse was beautiful, and her body fit that head very well; her legs were nicely proportioned for her while her mane was a little sparse. Her tail stretched to the straw-covered floor of her stall. The bright red coat of the horse made him think of fire. Unlike the other horses in the stable, this one was fat—it was very evident that she was pregnant. As if to emphasize this, she tossed her fine head then turned it; she gave her belly a nip right when he placed his hands on the door of her stall. He had only just noticed that the nameplate on the door said Afafika when she came at him—her elegant neck arched towards him, and her feet seemed to no more touch the floor of her area before being picked up again; he was only barely able to move himself out of harms way before she stuck her head out from her stall. If he had remained where he was for a mere second longer, she would of taken a bite from him.

The horse's nostrils were flared; she glared at him, persecuting him for encroaching on her space during her time in needing to be left alone, for a second or two before emitting a sort of squeal. After squealing, she pulled her head back into her stall then moved to the way back of her area. She had only just reached the far back of her stall when a Goblin ran over to his side.

"Did she get you, sir?" the Goblin asked. Lazeer jumped, then looked down, then moved away from the man; he never answered his question, which seemed to unnerve the man. "Young Master Lazeer!"

He went down the aisle; he was still rather nervous around the Goblins, and didn't really have a desire to have one of them fussing or fretting over him for some phantom injury that he may or may not have.

While going down the aisle, he looked in the other stalls that he came by. He saw other pregnant horses—ones that had their tails wrapped, or that's tails were loose; ones that looked plain uncomfortable; ones that looked fine; and ones that were either plain ornery or sweet in demeanor—before coming to a stop. Most of the horses that he had seen were solid in color—either black, gray, orange, yellow, or brown—while the one that he was now looking at wasn't. There was an open space between the stalls that contained the female animals; he was fast in coming under the assumption that the male animals were in the part of the stable that he was now in.

The first stall that he looked into housed a lanky, but finely formed, copper-colored horse; at first glance, he looked solid-colored then, after he gave him a second, and much longer, look, he saw that he had all sorts of white and dark spots on his flanks and withers. The nameplate, that was on the stall's door, said that the horse's name was Tritor—he couldn't find a better fitting name for such a finely made animal.

The horse that was in the next stall was of equal beauty; except for his bluish-black coat, he was a near exact replica of Tritor. The nameplate on the door of this horse's stall said Breklor. The young horse, that was in the stall that was beside Breklor's, was a rather pretty one; except for the fading black markings, that were present on his neck, shoulders, and rump, his coat was nearly white in color. This horse, who had a much more immature body on him, which gave him the idea that he was younger than Breklor and Tritor, who looked to be full-grown animals, also had ice-blue eyes, which, he thought, made him look even more remarkable.

He was just looking into the stall that housed the horse that his sister had based one of her models on when he saw Hazaar coming into the stable.

"Looking for a horse wife now?" Hazaar asked after reaching his younger brother's side.

"Yuck, no! I'm not one of them Mexican dancers that do it with burros." Lazeer made a face.

"Nice horse," Hazaar said after looking into the stall that had a nicely muscled, flea-bitten gray stallion, that had a creamy mane and tail, in it. He glanced at the nameplate, that said Rhoosod, for only a second before speaking again. "Looks like an Arabian, or like one of them Thoroughbred racehorses that're raced on Earth."

"Guess so." Lazeer, who knew nothing about horses, said.

"I'm planning on finding a hiding place to have a smoke in, you coming with or—" Hazaar said after leaning in close.

"Sure," Lazeer said. He turned then followed his brother down the aisle. "Take it that you have a magazine hidden on you?"

"When have you known me to not have one stuffed in my shirt?" Hazaar winked one of his eyes.

They knew the second that they were out of the stable that their plan in looking at a magazine while having a smoke wasn't going to happen—their mother was standing on the porch; she looked to be talking to someone who looked, yet didn't look like, Bile. Their father was standing by the bottom step of the porch; standing around him, talking him up a storm, were three beings that looked rather young. They took a single step towards the happenings of what was going on on the porch when they noticed that someone who looked like their father was standing off by the tree that was closest to the porch.

Lazeer stopped right after noticing the people either on or near the porch; he noticed that his grandparents were in the yard, and that they had taken their kids a distance from the porch, and he also noticed that Eshal had gone with them. He wondered for all of two seconds where his grandparents had come from before latching onto the idea of their coming outside during his time in being in the stable.

Hazaar, after seeing the happenings of what was going on on the porch, decided to head off in the direction that he had seen his two older brothers go off in. After starting on his way, and after checking to see if Lazeer was following him, he glanced in the direction of the ones that were on the porch. After seeing that they were busy in speaking among themselves, he turned his head then got busy in leading his brother, who was following him a bit too closely, to where he wanted them to go. Whether it was fate or destiny he didn't know but, once he and Lazeer had reached the halfway mark of the yard, their father started yelling for them to come to him.

Hazaar stopped; he sighed over having his plans be ruined, and in over being seen, then he turned. He, with Lazeer following at his backside, went towards the one who had called for him. He had only just reached within shouting distance of his father when his heel-clipping brother decided to stop following him; Lazeer put a halt in going forward while he continued to go forward. Only after seeing who it was that his mother was talking to, and after going five feet from his brother, did he decide to stop.

"What is he wearing!"

Hazaar glared at the one who had spoken; with the exception of what the guy was wearing, he looked to be in or around the same age that he and Lazeer were. To him, the guy wasn't wearing what a normal teenager would—the brown t-shirt, that was tucked into a pair of plain brown pants, and the pair of brown socks and shoes, that he was wearing were very normal for one of his age to wear; all of what the guy was wearing was old... it definitely didn't look fitting for one who was a teenager.

The pants went down to only his knees; the ends of these pants, which were either a black or a very dark blue color, were tied at the knee by what-looked-to-be garter ties. The white, button down, long sleeve shirt had a small resemblance to the one that was worn by his father—er, in regards to the lace-like cuffs, that was; the buttons looked to of been made out of genuine gold, which was vastly different in regards to the buttons that were on his father's shirt. The slacks, that came down from the ends of the guy's pant legs, were crisp and white; not a wrinkle could be seen in them, which he thought was weird—but the fact that he was wearing such attire with his outfit was even weirder. What was the guy trying to be... a girl? The last he had heard, only girls wore slacks. The shoes that were on the kid's feet were black; the buckle, that was on their sides, was silver and quite shiny. The frill-like, lace cravat tie, that was around the guy's neck, made his outfit look even more outrageous for him.

The kid had elf-like ears on his head; he had only to look at him to know that he was bi-colored—the left side of his head, and, he presumed, body, was dark red while the other side of his head, and body, was silver. The eyes that were in the kid's face were a glowing yellow color; the pupils, that were in their centers, were green. Not counting the ten-inch long horns, that were a dark red color, and that had three twists to them, the kid was six feet tall; he had a lean body build that looked quite lacking in muscle.

"Same question to you." Hazaar said back.

"Good clothes that my father wore when he was my age," the kid replied. "You, in contrast to both him and me, are wearing what one from the streets would wear."

"Why does the one in the back have a glass over one of his eyes and not both, Tazzy?"

All it took was for him to look at her; he knew right then and there who she was after that first look was done.

She was the exact same one who had said that he was "cute" during the meal that he and Lhaklar had joined after they had been caught in October; her name was UevaaVile Saibi Surfeit—technically, she was his and his full-brothers' aunt... and, technically, she was also his father's baby sister.

She was a tall, five foot, nine inches; her hair, which was a dark auburn color, and which looked to flow down to the middle of her back, was parted down the middle a little too evenly. Like with the other kid, who, for his life, he couldn't place a name to, she was bi-colored—the left side of her head was silver while the other side of her head was dark yellow; he had only to look at her hands to know that the sides of her body matched the colors of her bi-colored head perfectly. There were no viewable ears on her head at all; her eyes were a glowing blue color—the pupils, that were in their centers, were yellow.

She was wearing a long sleeve, blue dress; the white slacks, that ran into a pair of blue heels, that had bows on their sides, matched her and her gender well. No makeup was present on her face; as far as he could tell, she had no jewelry on herself.

"He—"

"—has the same thing that you inherited from your mother, doesn't he Boy?"

A rocket scientist wasn't needed to tell him who it was that had interrupted his father—unlike the horned guy, he knew what his name was.

The guy's name was DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit; he was his grandfather and he was also the only son of ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit and Egla Ifica Shaar. The man had a deep, booming voice—it was strong enough to attract the attention of anyone who was clear across the room from him. He was six foot, three; no hint of age was present on his body, or on his face, for that matter. His face was hard, and looked rather experienced—the experience that was in his face was also prominent in his eyes, which were a glowing green color, and which had small, black pupils in their centers. Like Uevaa, and the still-unnamed kid, he was bi-colored—the left side of his head, and, he presumed, body, was silver while the other side of his head, and body, was black. The pair of elongated ears, that ran the full length of his shoulders, were silver in color; they had black, Tiger-like stripes on them. The fingernails, that were coming from the ends of the man's fingers, were long and black in color; they looked to of been filed to a nicely sharp point.

He was wearing a black, aristocratic shirt that had a layered collar-line on it; the sleeves to the shirt were long while the buttons that went down its front were silver. The black pants, that were worn over the man's bottom half, went to just his knees; like with the unnamed kid's pants, they were tied at the knee by what-looked-to-be garter ties. The pair of white slacks, that were coming down from the pants' ends, were too crisp and clean while the pair of black leather shoes, that looked to have scalloped edges on them, were a little distressed and rugged in appearance.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, he was mesmerized by the adornment that was hanging from the man's left elongated ear—a single, gold chain, from which a silver ball was at the end of, glistened rather brilliantly in the morning rays that were coming from the three spheres.

After becoming near-mesmerized by the ear adornment, he nearly slapped himself; here he was, asking why the man looked like his older, half-brother when the answer was as plain as the reflection that shown from a mirror. The man looked so much like Bile because he was related to him—while the man was his, Lhaklar's, and Lazeer's grandfather he was Bile's great-grandfather.

He had no more realized this before the man was noticed as coming towards him; after noticing that the man was coming towards him, and his brother, who was still standing behind him, he hissed. His grandfather stopped on a dime then gave him a long, serious look.

"I don't think an introduction on who I am is need for Hazaar. We've already met." the man said. "Looks like he still has that defiant streak in him. And I see that you've done nothing with his hair."

"What the hell is wrong with my hair?" Hazaar snapped.

"He takes care of it. I see no reason to have it removed from his body." TazirVile said.

"It makes him look ridiculous!" DuruVile said in a strained fashion. His glowing, green eyes flashed with a tinge of anger before regaining their former curious, yet calm, appearance.

"So does y—"

"Hazaar! His hair is perfectly fine; it doesn't make him look ridiculous, and he takes very good care of it." Angel said while stepping down from the porch. She strode over to DuruVile then she stood beside him. "And, yes, Lazeer has P.S.E. A mind form of it, and in his left eye only."

"The younger one in the back I have yet to see," DuruVile said while walking by Hazaar. He went straight for Lazeer, who was fast in taking two steps from him.

"From my standpoint, both of them look to have a bit of defiance in them." the woman, who was standing against the tree, said. "It looks like Angel has passed that gene on well."

While she wasn't related to him, and his full-brothers, she was related to his mother, and to Bile; to look at her, it'd be quite easy to figure that she was more related to their mother than to Bile, though.

Cyla Dybla, the woman who his grandfather had married after divorcing his first wife, and the woman who he had left after noticing the woman who would birth his father, and the woman who he would remarry sometime down the road, was quite tall—her legs was what gave her most of her height, which was six feet; her skin was light blue in color while her hair was mostly red and wavy. The two strands of hair, that were close to her forehead, were purple—due to their not looking natural, he was fast in thinking that they had been dyed that color. She had beady blue eyes; the nose that she had was barely noticeable. To him, she looked a little overloaded with makeup—she had red eye-shadow on her eyelids, and red lipstick on her lips, and medium-pink blush on her cheeks. For some reason, he got the idea that she was also wearing mascara around her eyes—there was a line around her eyes that didn't look natural to him.

The woman was wearing a black gown; he thought that the red, flame-like designs, that were on the dress's front, contrasted well with that color. Due to the dress's belled cuffs being turned inside out, he was able to see that the interior also had that same design on it. For some reason, the dress had a hood on the back of its collar. Due to the dress's length, he wasn't able to see what type of shoes she was wearing.

When he looked at the woman's hands, he saw that each of her nails had been painted a red color; the ring finger of her left hand had a 14kt Celtic knotted ring, that had a red diamond in its center, on it. With the exception of the ring, she was wearing no jewelry.

He was just turning to take in the one that was standing just behind his father when he heard a sound behind him; he turned, then gasped, then started towards his brother—while he had been checking Cyla Dybla out, his grandfather had lunged at, and then grabbed, his brother.

"Hold still, Boy!" his grandfather barked. Lazeer, he saw, was putting up a fuss; he was trying to pull himself away from the man who had him in his clutches.

"Let him go!" Hazaar exclaimed. He had no more gone forward, to help his brother in getting away from the man, when his mother ran past him.

After hearing the man's voice, then seeing him coming out on the porch, she had gone to him to see if she could speak some rational sense into him on his not laying a harmful hand on her sons; instead of being assured over his behaving himself, and in his not placing wrong hand on her children, she had gotten a half-there promise from him on what she had spoken to him about. To her, the half-promise wasn't enough—her trust in him was low thanks to that half-promise being given; she was planning on keeping him, his wife, and their children in her sights now, thanks to that half-promise being given.

Her great-grandfather had her youngest son in what she called a "vice grip"—a grip that was tight, and a grip that the man used when he was trying to gain control of someone. Lazeer, after pulling back a bunch of times, swung his fist at the man who had him by the arm; when his punch didn't do the trick, he kicked out. She only barely made it before the man who had her child became nasty—she tore her great-grandfather's hand from her son, then she pushed her son to being behind her, then she stood between them.

Hazaar, she saw, took two steps towards her before stopping; her thirdborn son looked at her, then he looked behind him, then he looked at her again. She had only to look at her son to know that he didn't like what was going on—for her, and, she guessed, Lazeer, the feeling was mutual.

"You need to get these two a better wardrobe, Tazir." DuruVile said after looking Lazeer up and down. "I agree with what my son said. These two are dressed like gutter people—that's not appropriate for one of Surfeit blood, Boy."

"My sons have a very unique style to them." Angel said. "Their dress sense is perfectly fine."

"You must be joking," DuruVile said. After saying this, he started pointing at what Lazeer was wearing. "His pants are badly ripped; the hems are torn to bits; and he has two tears in his shirt. Tazir, tell me that you don't approve of this."

"The thought of tossing the clothing that was ripped, or that had holes it in, did cross my mind." TazirVile confided. "I decided against it—it's their style; I'm sure they'll grow out of it one day."

"You need to get to work on this one," DuruVile turned around; he gestured at Hazaar for a small second before dropping his hand. "As you can see, Angel, Selik and Lazeer are both taller than he is. He might have a stronger body but, in regards to my youngest son, he's stunted for his age."

"Which one is Selik?" Angel asked. Hazaar and Lazeer paid special attention to what was said next as even they wanted to know who Selik was.

"Selik, step forward Boy!" Hazaar nodded his head after the kid, who had the dark red, spiraling horns on his head, stepped forward. "He's nine years older than Lazeer."

"Hazaar isn't stunted for his age," Angel said. She, like Hazaar, had nodded her head after seeing Selik step forward. "He's not unhealthy either."

"He's five foot, eleven inches tall, Girl. That is—"

"Hazaar's still growing." Angel said before gesturing for Hazaar to come to her. After her two, younger sons were at her side, she turned then said, "Why don't you two go find Bile and Lhaklar."

"Yes, do please!" DuruVile said excitedly. "When you get back, you shall have some time to interact with my three children—one, of whom, your brothers know well from their childhood years."

The past fifteen minutes had been difficult for him; all of what he had experienced last night had been told—in a lot of ways, he was glad that it was out and in the open. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and from his mind and chest. Thanks to his confiding in Lhaklar about what occurred last night, he almost felt like he could fly.

At the start of his telling his brother the events of last night, he had spoken in a haunted fashion; he had left off on what he had said periodically to half-emphasize his plan in wanting to leave Moas for Earth and in his wanting to take his family with him when he decided to initiate the move—this crazy talk had scared Lhaklar as much as it had him. Thanks to Lhaklar's continuous "abuse", his cheeks felt raw and tingly—in a lot of ways, he owed Lhaklar his thanks for slapping him because his slaps had caused him to return to reality and to go on with the tale of what happened during the hours that he should of been sleeping and experiencing good dreams.

He had spilled, and Lhaklar had listened; some advice, and some abuse, had been given before more listening was done. His brother had also given him some comfort when he had been in need of it—as strange as it seemed, he had relished in them given hugs, and in the words that had spewed from Lhaklar's mouth.

It seemed that Lhaklar was the only one to notice that he had been off that morning; ma had been preoccupied with talking to grandma Ashaklar, and Hazaar and Lazeer had been busy with their breakfasts, and the old man had either been speaking with his stepfather, or with one of his siblings, or he had been eating his breakfast—with everyone being preoccupied in doing something, his then-present mood had been overlooked. Like with earlier, he didn't see bad in this—they hadn't known, which was as good of an excuse as any.

During his telling of the tale of what happened last night, he had smoked two joints and then two of his brother's cigarettes—he had been so nervous about telling the disturbing tale of what happened last night that he had over-done his limit in smoking, which was both hilarious and a bit concerning. Due to how well he trusted his brother, he hadn't put in much of a sweat or put into heavy thought about telling him what he had experienced—he had just dived into the tale and Lhaklar, his sometimes over-mature brother, had listened; he owed him a lot of thanks for setting him straight and for listening to him.

"It started almost immediately after I went to bed—once my head was on the pillow, and once my eyes were shut, I started dreaming. Every time I woke up, then went back to sleep, it'd return—but, it'd be clearer, and more real-like, than the previous image that was played." he had said. "The apartment that we lived in, along with the ones that are to its left and right, went up in a fiery green explosion of flames and smoke. A great gush of wind blew after the apartment went, then everything grew foggy before clearing up... man! Everything for miles was gone!"

"The apartment, and the neighborhood that it was in, had a lot of memories for all of us, so it would be shocking to see it go up and then out like that." Lhaklar had said.

"Before I woke up," he had continued. "I saw a warped shadow walking away from the flaming mess that was our old apartment. It kept coming closer, and it got clearer the closer it got to... well, I guess me, as I can't explain how or why it kept getting closer. Anyways, before I woke up, this shadow went from being very warped to steady—it had taken on the shape of one of the male gender right before I shot up in bed."

He had been scared out of his wits end! Along with being covered in sweat, and having his eyes dart from one section of his room to the other, he had noticed that he had been breathing heavily—it had been like he had been running almost nonstop for miles, which was funny because he knew that he hadn't done so. After sitting in bed for a while, he had gotten up; a visit to his bedroom's adjacent bathroom had been done, some water had been thrown into his face, he had looked at his reflection in the mirror, and he had done some pacing before returning to bed. After his head was returned to the pillow, and after his eyes were shut, the dream continued.

The shadow-person had walked down the street; except for the jean bag, that had been slung over one of his shoulders, he hadn't been able to see anything of him—the person had been cloaked from head to foot in the darkest of shadows that he had ever seen. The shadow-person had exited the shield that was around Green River, Wyoming then he had gone straight for Expedition Island, where he had made up a sort of half-camp that had consisted of a white sheet, that he had half-so draped over a branch of a tree, and a fire. The man had gone to the river, he had caught himself a small, brown fish, then he had returned to his camp—this part of the dream, while not being as clear as the one that followed it, had been clear enough for him; he had seen the man jab the end of a stick into the fish, then drape the fish over the fire, then pull it out of the fire. That damn fish had been burned to a near crisp and he had been able to see it!

He had woke up right after seeing the shadow-person rip a chunk from the fish—as strange as it sounded, he had been able to note that the man had a gnarly set of both yellow and slightly crooked teeth just before waking up.

"I was much like the first time when I woke up—drenched in sweat, breathing heavy, my eyes darting from one part of my room to the next... only difference is that, when I woke up, I was gripped in a fear for you guys. I got up from bed, then I left my room, then I checked on each and every one of you—I even checked on Eshal, and on ma and dad, Lhakie. That was how scared I was!"

Everyone had been fine so, he had gone back to bed; unlike the first and second time, where he had fallen asleep right away, he had kept himself awake for thirty minutes. After falling asleep, the dream had commenced from right where it had previously left off.

The shadow-person had been speaking during the third, and last, part of the dream; he had been sitting by the river at the time, and he hadn't looked a bit happy. His jean bag had been nearby—leaning against the trunk of a tree; from what he had been able to see, the half-so camp, that had been present in the previous section of the dream that he had experienced, had been taken down. The man had been staring at the river; he had stared and stared for the longest of time before saying I knew that nothing good could ever happen to me; I should of known that they'd abandon me too. The man had said several things, but that had been the stick-out thing that he had said—his nasally low voice, that was either cracking because of its hysteria or because of the person's youth, had been so grief and anger filled... he still couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy, which was funny because he neither knew who he was or if he even existed.

"The guy stood up, then he shot his hand out; a sort of exotic fire, that was green on the interior, but orange on the exterior, came out of his hand then was flung towards the nearby bushes. Them bushes went pop, then dropped to being mere ashes in seconds, Lhakie! The man torched that whole, entire island with that exotic fire all while saying that 'he shouldn't of trusted them', and that 'he shouldn't of let himself get to thinking that things were going to turn around for him because they never did'."

The shadow-person had had an emotional moment after saying that; he had turned his strange power towards the river after the island was incinerated—the water had bubbled; fish had either been cooked where they swam or had floated to the surface, dead as can be; and any and all animals that were around dropped to their side. The shadow-person, after creating all of this chaos, had teleported out of the area—right after disappearing, the Green River Fire Department came in. They had only just started trying to put out the flames, that were happening on the island, when the military swooped in.

His eyes were opened right after the General leading the military said that everyone in Green River, Wyoming needed to evacuated the area and quickly.

Instead of going back to sleep, he had gotten up; he had gotten dressed, had used the toilet, then had decided to throw on some music. He had barely been able to initiate the Silencer spell before the starting song on Ozzy Osbourne's The Ultimate Sin started playing. In all, he might of had three hours of non-dream occurring sleep last night—which was why he looked a bit tired right now.

"You know it was nothing more than a silly, stupid dream, right? With all that's happened over the last few months, I'm surprised that all of us haven't been screaming ourselves awake—dreams can't hurt you, and they don't become true after you speak of them, so don't worry about it. Just forget about it. Live your life, and be glad that last night won't be happening again, and that what you dreamed won't hurt you or be coming true." Lhaklar had said after he had spoken of what he had dreamed.

Lhaklar had said that dreams were a very misunderstood phenomenon; while sometimes annoying, they did have their benefits and, on certain occasions, their disadvantages. The good dreams were what people used to escape reality while the bad ones... well, those were the ones that people didn't want to have. Like his brother had said, he wouldn't be experiencing another continuous dream, or a dream that was so clear, like that of what he had experienced last night again.

After getting this piece of advice, and comforting words, he had calmed down; the final cigarette that he had been smoking had been finished, then he had gotten up, then he had held his hand out for Lhaklar. He had helped his brother to his feet then he had "escorted" him from the area that they had taken to sit and talk and smoke in. At the moment, they were headed back to the main portion of the backyard—to the section that they'd be able to be seen in more readily and to the section where their little brothers had been seen in last.

"Whoa now! It looks like Tweedle Dee, with a rattail sticking out from the back of his head, and Tweedle Dum, with a horizontal mohawk, are coming straight for us." he said after seeing his two, younger brothers running towards him and Lhaklar.

Lhaklar, despite his still hurting foot, readied himself for the two of them; when they got to them, he grabbed Lazeer then held him steady. He, on the other hand, grabbed Hazaar then started fanning him with his hand.

"Whoa there, slow it up before you have a heart attack." Bile said while fanning his brother. He fanned his brother for a few more seconds before releasing him. "I don't think you can come anywhere near to breaking any of the records that I set during my school days, so save your lungs, and your legs."

"Why would I try to break a record that my own brother made?" Hazaar asked after moving away from his brother.

"Good question, one of which I'm not very concerned about right now." Bile smiled wickedly. "I'm about to make a new one now."

Bile lunged for his brother; even though Hazaar tried to get away from him, he grabbed and then pulled him in close. While his brother struggled to get away from him, he gave him a noogie.

"Let me go, Bile!"

"Oh shit, you made me lose count." Bile said after Hazaar had gotten away from him. "I'll have to start all over again—what was my last record, Lhaklar?"

"Fifteen, I think. You got up to ten on that last one." Lhaklar replied.

"Enjoy all of that head-love, Hazie!" Lazeer was laughing so hard that his sides were hurting him. Bile grabbed Hazaar again; after pulling him in close, then positioning him so that he'd not be able to hurt him, he started giving him another helping of noogies.

"When was the last time that you had a little head-love, Lazeer?" before Lazeer could duck, and then run away, Lhaklar rushed in. He grabbed him by the arm then he pulled him in tight; his head was placed under the crook of his brother's arm right before his own brand of noogies were received.

"I broke my record—twenty-five noogies in one sitting!" Bile sang right after Hazaar broke free of him. He had just said this when Lazeer was "released" of his brother's restraint. "What shall we do next to our pestersome little brothers?"

"Can't give 'em wet willies—they have no ears on the outside of their heads." Lhaklar said. "There's no toilet around, so we can't give them a swirlie."

"You wet end!" Hazaar exclaimed. He and Lazeer moved a few steps away from their brothers.

"I know!" Bile gave his fingers a snap. "Best start running because we're coming for the backs of your underwear."

"Oh yeah!" Lhaklar laughed evilly.

There was no way in hell that they were going to let their brothers grab the back of their underwear; after hearing the threat of their receiving a wedgie, and after seeing their brothers as coming towards them, they turned tail then ran.

Lazeer, who was wearing a black mesh shirt, that had a slight tear in the stomach area, but that had a severe tear in the side, and a pair of black jeans, that had a series of tears all down their legs, and that were pretty much missing their hems, led the way for a while. The pair of black boots, that had a single, gold chain wrapped around their tops, that he was wearing on his feet, caused clots of artificial grass to fly as he dug in for more speed. He was running so fast that his knees were nearly coming in contact with his chest; the chains on his boots clicked and clanged as he ran—he perceived these sounds as cheering, which gave him an incentive to run faster.

When he reached the bushes, that he, and Hazaar, had passed through while looking for Bile and Lhaklar, he found himself as being passed. Hazaar shot past him like a rocket; he cheered his brother on then he went silent after seeing that Bile was hot on his heels.

He and Hazaar managed to stay ahead of their brothers until just after going past the bushes; Bile leaped at Hazaar, then tackled him to the ground, then positioned him. Even though Lhaklar had a bum foot, he was able to keep up with him—he found himself as being knocked from his feet right after Hazaar was tackled.

Bile and Lhaklar had just positioned their brothers for their wedgies when, from the corner of their eyes, they saw someone as coming towards them. Working fast, they gave the drawers, that they were aiming for, a tug then stood up. They got out of the way of their brothers, who were now flopping, rolling, and reaching back to relieve the pressure that their assaulted underpants were giving them.

"Bile! Lhaklar! What in the Universe—" Angel exclaimed after seeing what her two, older sons had done to their younger brothers. While she wanted to laugh she also wanted to retain an adult-like mood.

"Hello, ma. You look exceptionally beautiful this morning." Bile said. He smiled widely; due to how wide his smile was, she was able to see the set of fangs that he had on his top and lower jaws.

"You know what kind of damage you can do by... by doing that to your brothers?" Angel asked her two, older sons.

"Ooohh, we didn't pull their boy panties up but so far. They'll be fine." Lhaklar said. He waved his hand to the side as if what he and his brother had done to Hazaar and Lazeer was nothing.

"Normally, I'd allow for this in a light way but—"

"You allow for your sons to play like a typical street child, Girl?"

While Lhaklar had seen his grandfather, and had also had a few conversations with him during the meal that he and Hazaar had attended after they had been captured in October, Bile hadn't seen the man in the flesh; he remembered him from his childhood days, and he remembered the photograph, that the guy's name had been placed on the back of, but he hadn't seen him recently. His first, initial, thought on the man wasn't a good one.

The man, who was both his and his mother's great-grandfather, started berating his mother on how she allowed them to act around one another; it didn't take him long before he started berating her on his and Lazeer's dress-sense. If the man had been his actual father, and not just a relative of his actual father's, he wouldn't of wasted any time in slugging a fist at him—the man, when he had been a kid, had been rather mean and controlling... it looked like he was still them things. He remembered a time when his mother had been getting ready to get into the pool, that was still standing in Carman, Manitoba, Canada; just about everyone had gasped after seeing the vast scarring that was on her back—while most of the scarring had come from his father and grandfather, some of it had also been placed on her by the very one who was now getting on her for her mothering skills. The deep, dark red scar, that was half on the back of her shoulders, and half in the middle of her back, had been put on her by Mr. DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit—the tale said that the man had put a large ice block on her back; ma claimed that he had only put the ice block on her in an attempt to get her to respect him.

"Uh-oh," Angel thought.

After seeing that her son had gone from being playful to looking plain pissed off, and ready for a fight, she stopped her conversation with her great-grandfather. Moving as quickly as she could, she stepped between her son and DuruVile quickly. Her great-grandfather gave her a look before turning his gaze to her son, who still looked rather angry in the face.

"You need to get your oldest child under control and fast, Girl." DuruVile said in a low, throaty growl. "I will be here for a while, and you know me—I will not take disrespect or—"

"Leave the disciplining of my children to me, granpappy." Angel said.

"I only need to look at your two older boys to see that they, too, have that same defiance in them." DuruVile said. After saying this, he turned then started away. He had only just started towards his family, who looked to be waiting for him, when he stopped and then turned around. "You watch them boys of yours, Girl. They harm my kids any and there will be a problem between me and them."