-Chapter Four: But we'll only know for certain if we try (I want to sing a song worth singing)-
Bad trekked long and hard, barely taking breaks. He never really needed to stop that often for breath, or even sleep. And if anything, this matter was more important than either.
After a couple days' time he started to wonder whether he really was heading in the right direction, and his steps would falter more and more as the sun dragged its way over and over through the sky. He considered turning back for help, but he carried on, stubborn as ever.
Just like he was.
Bad gritted his teeth. Three more days passed. Two more nights spent wandering.
And then he felt the chill.
It was a wonder how he didn't see the blizzard before it came, only feeling a sweeping sensation then being knocked to the ground. He grunted, gripped his hood to his head and his satchel. The satchel was the most important.
He looked around frantically, only seeing white, white, and more white. Oh look over there, nope, more white!
But in all seriousness, he needed to get out of this storm before he could get lost. And no way was he close enough to Techno's cabin so he could gain shelter.
He squinted his eyes, peering into the piercing snow. Was that a glimmer of light? Bad could swear he saw a flicker of green just there. He narrowed his eyes even more, taking a few steps towards it.
"Come on, Michael, get out of the snow!" a small voice exclaimed, coming from the direction of the light. Or maybe it came from behind him, Bad wasn't so sure. The wind might as well be whipping the words around and around until they got dizzy enough to stop.
Bad took more shambling steps, until Bad could finally make out the light. It was coming from a fabric tent, its entrance thrashing in the merciless snow. Bad stumbled, clutching his stachel to his chest and letting his hood fall.
A couple crunching steps sounded behind him, and he turned, the hair on his head whipping and smacking him in the face. "Hello."
The figure behind him was noticeably small, cute in a way. He donned a jacket that was obviously way too big for him, and the furry hood was brought over his head, though goat - like ears still stuck out. Bad couldn't see his eyes at all because they were covered by thick auburn - brown hair, so that just left a curious pucker of a mouth and burn scars stretching almost everywhere.
In their arms was a little pig man, wearing a baggy black - and - yellow sweatshirt and tattered brown overalls. He was holding his own thing, a small white chicken that clucked and shivered. The pig man looked up at Bad, letting out a nervous snort.
The figure holding the two smiled softly at Bad. "Are you a traveler?" he asked politely. His feet shifted over the snow, marking the ground and revealing tips of green grass. The pig man started to tremble, holding the chicken more tightly.
"Yes. Um, I know this is awkward, but may I stay with you?" Bad asked, tail swinging slightly from under him. Even the cold was getting to him.
"Of course, stay as long as you need! Let's go inside, it's frigid out here." The goat man responded, pushing past Bad into the tent.
~--~
It had been a month since then.
Skeppy hadn't seen Bad since. He always imagined the time when he would see him again, but the mysterious demon never reached out, and as far as Skeppy knew, he left no notes. Not even creepy crawling onto his balcony did the job.
Skeppy huffed, a bit annoyed. His chin was cupped in his hand as he watched his father argue with his advisors. He always was one to get the last word, and he was very hard to consult with. Skeppy could practically see the advisors get more and more impatient.
"But sire…" one drawled, looking up at the king with huge sky blue eyes. Skeppy scoffed. "I understand that your word is law, but perhaps we could open up the stocks for the -"
"I already said no, God kill me!" the king boomed, slamming the arms of his chair. "We don't give stocks to slaves! They're slaves!"
"Yes, but perhaps -"
"Get out of my sight." his father growled, voice deathly low. That was when you knew to listen.
"Just hear me out -!" the advisor pleaded, now at this time begging for a word. The king looked just about to erupt.
"And hear ME out. I am your KING after all."
"But - but -"
"Guards. Take Advisor Pleaton away." The king waved his hand, looking just about done with life. Skeppy started to play with the hem of his coat, hating the horribly bright red of it. He was ready to rip it off and feed it to the wolves.
When Skeppy had come back to his kingdom, everybody was positively ecstatic. Skeppy didn't even need to make up a story for his running away; the people spun their own and eventually landed on this:
'He made it, he made it! That wretched demon, taking our prince! Perhaps he was taking him away to kill him! Or maybe for a slave! No, no, no, guys. The prince DRAGGED the demon. The demon must have taken over.'
Everybody agreed that that made the most sense. Skeppy knew better, however.
Skeppy looked up to watch Spifey (who was now assigned his permanent bodyguard) and another named Zelk step forward to grab Pleaton. Pleaton struggled in their grip, yelling curses at the king until finally he was out of the room and the huge doors to the throne room banged closed. The second advisor bowed frantically before scurrying out the room as well.
The king flinched, suddenly slouching his seat and looking ultimately defeated. Skeppy cocked his head at him. "Father? Are you… alright?"
"Zak." his father rasped, and Skeppy didn't feel like correcting him was a great idea yet. "Remember that demon?"
"Of course…"
"You being taken left the whole kingdom on edge. I can feel it. They're scared, and I have no idea what to do." the king fretted, holding his head in his hands. "Everybody's demanding a wall. But our kingdom has always been open to nature. Everyone can come and go as they please, and a wall would end that."
Skeppy started seething, hating that his father had given him a perfect pass into anger. "Not everyone." he muttered, turning away.
"What do you mean son?"
"I'm not allowed to go out!" Skeppy yelled, turning back to glare at the other with dark eyes. "I'm never allowed to leave this stupid place, and when I was captured you have no idea how happy I was to see grass!"
His father banged his fist against the arm of his chair, turning just as angry. "We have talked about this. And you want to go back to that… that monster? What type of prince are you?"
"A traitor in your eyes." Skeppy growled, practically shaking. "And yes I would, if that means that I can see the outside again! I want to see nature, not just law."
"But you're a prince. Law is all you need. Now leave my sight."
Skeppy let out a wail of frustration before getting out of his seat and stomping out of the room, making sure the doors banged extra loud just for the king. Sure, he left like a child angry that they didn't get a stuffy from the market, but he had all the right to be mad.
He walked in his room, slamming the door and locking it behind him. Not even Spifey could get in, unless his dad finally trusted him enough with his room key. He hoped not. He needed to be alone.
He curled into a small ball next to the foot of his bed, trembling with anger and defeat. He missed Bad. He missed the outside. He missed having friends.
He heard a light tap against his window, and he ignored it. It was most likely his curtain, or maybe the florist coming to give his flowers some water. But he did that on his own; he was independent.
He tucked his head farther into his clothes, glaring at his fingers. He jumped when another tap sounded, and he huffed in exasperation. Maybe a new florist who knew nothing. He'll talk to Spifey about it.
His head finally whipped up when a more persistent tap came along, and he glared at his window. He stomped over to the curtain and drew it back, ready to yell at the stupid florist, but he blanched when he saw a familiar dark face.
"Bad!" He whispered urgently, backing away. The demon in question rapped impatiently on the glass. Skeppy moved forward again and pulled the window open, almost smacking Bad off the tower, but the other ducked just in time.
He jumped into the room, tumbling into Skeppy and dragging him to the floor. He kept him pinned there with a hand on his chest while he looked over the window rim, Skeppy dimly aware of Bad's trembling.
"Uh…" Skeppy shifted a bit under Bad's hand, and Bad jumped, as if he just saw Skeppy under him. He climbed off of him, shutting the window as gently as he could. Skeppy rubbed his head, cocking it to the side.
"Bad!" He jumped up, running over and capturing the other in a hug. Bad grunted a bit, just barely able to catch himself. "What are you doing here? Why are you here? How are you here? All the heres!"
Bad laughed stiffly, gently pushing the other's hands off of his shoulders, which were visibly tense.
"I…" The demon hesitated, obviously wondering whether he should answer Skeppy's questions at all. "It's complicated."
Skeppy cocked his head to the side, getting more and more curious. "How so?"
Bad's lips pressed harder together, brow furrowing. "I don't want you in danger." he muttered, turning his head to stare out the window with oddly expressionless eyes. "I've already hurt too many people, I don't want you to get hurt as well."
"Just tell me what's going on and I can help you!" Skeppy demanded, flaring in anger again. And his recent dispute with his father most certainly didn't help any matters. Bad himself, as stressed as he seemed, also growled a bit, not unlike a cat. "Didn't you hear me? I don't want you to die!"
"Oh, so are the rumours true?" Skeppy hisses, dark eyes cold. "And I just let loose a murderer? What are you going to do, hit me?"
"That's the opposite of what I want to do!!" Bad yelled, loud enough to make the curtains tremble as if they were scared of Bad's sudden intensity.
Skeppy himself was just as taken aback.
"If you want to hit me just do it Bad." He said, eyes turned up but head tilted down as he looked at Bad. Judging his expression.
Bad sighed. "I don't WANT to hit you, Skeppy, I don't even want to hurt you at all. I don't want anyone to." He fell into a sort of tense silence after that, as if debating what to say next or perhaps waiting for Skeppy to answer.
But Skeppy would wait.
"Thank you. For - for saving me a month ago. It um… it really helped." Bad added.
Skeppy loosened, letting a small smile slip through. "You think?" he chuckled, looking up completely. "But back to the subject. You really need to trust me. I can take care of myself, and I want to help."
Bad bit his lip, drawing a bit of blood. Skeppy winced. Blood always made him a little queasy, but Bad didn't seem to register the movement.
After maybe a minute, maybe an hour, maybe a day, Bad let out an exasperated sigh, and opened his mouth -
A loud bang broke Skeppy's world apart like a brick smashing into a window.