Chapter 3 of 5

The King of Winter

Winona didn't know how she missed all of the signs.

They had been there. They had all been there for so long, and yet she had gone blissfully unaware of every single one.

Maybe it wasn't her own ignorance. Maybe it was simply denial. Maybe it was because every single time she had seen something suspicious, she had brushed it off. Nobody wants to think the worst. Every human assumes the body by the road is a mannequin until the truth is forcibly pushed onto them.

It was just that the truth was forced onto Winona far, far too late to do anything.

It started with the panic attacks and breakdowns.

When Winona had first met Tyler, he had been snarky and stubborn. Quick to shoot a verbal attack at those around him, but always with a gleam of mischief in his eye. She hadn't known the boy from the beginning, but she had heard about how he had initially treated his companions.

She had heard that he would react with physical violence over the smallest things. A quick insult or a single offhanded comment. He had the instincts of a predator with the mind of an abandoned child. But even still, Wilson had claimed he had been strong-willed and highly opinionated. He never cried. Fury was always his reaction. Fury and violence.

But Winona had known him before things started falling apart. Winona had watched Tyler argue over tiny details, protest every small thing, try to take the lead at every corner. Always, always, with a glimmer in his gaze. His comebacks and insults were quick and sharp, but there was never malice in them. Just… enjoyment. Affection.

But the truth was, had always been, that she didn't know his thoughts. She could only make assumptions based on the way he reacted to situations, and the way he spoke to his companions. The way he interacted with them.

Winona had watched WX-78 die.

She had watched Tyler die with them.

Not physically, no. Physically, Tyler was still alive. He was breathing, speaking, mostly unharmed. But what she hadn't realized at the time was that it wasn't just shock and grief that had overtaken him in the wake of WX-78's death.

Cracks had formed.

Cracks that had been growing gradually over the span of months. Cracks that had gotten deeper and deeper until something vital had been broken.

She had seen the signs. She hadn't known what any of them were.

She had seen them, one night, when she lay awake, staring up at the sky peeking through between branches and dead leaves. Their shelter was admittedly crude, but effective for blocking the wind and snow. It was kept dry by the branches blocking snowfall, and the fire providing light and warmth. It was comfortable, especially when the frigid air outside was taken into consideration.

She couldn't sleep. She blamed a nonexistent rock somewhere beneath her, one that wouldn't turn up no matter how many times she searched for it.

At the time, she thought she had accidentally woken the boy up with her tossing and turning. Now, she wasn't sure. When she tried yet another new position, she saw a single eye staring at her, reflecting the orange and red light of the fire. His expression was static. She couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking.

"Can't sleep, either?" Winona questioned in a whisper. Tyler stared blankly at her for a solid ten seconds before slowly shaking his head. He had his sword resting on his lap, bathed in its own light separate from the flames, and one claw resting on it. Tapping the polished surface. It wasn't a particularly loud noise, considering the pelts still covering his hands, but it was noticeable now that she was listening for it.

"Hey Winona?" He finally spoke.

"Mm?"

His hand hovered over the blade again, before resting back on it and tapping a new beat on it. Tapping to a song that was only in his head.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course." Winona sat up to give him her full attention. He seemed uncomfortable with this, turning his gaze decisively away as if betraying something on his face.

"Um… do you… could you… keep this?" His words were soft, barely a whisper, as he closed his fingers around the hilt of his sword and offered it towards the handywoman. She blinked at the weapon, a frown creasing her face.

"...Your sword?" She asked, because she needed the clarification. It was Tyler's weapon. The thought of anyone else wielding it seemed… unnatural. She could almost see the glow of it sputter slightly, as if equally displeased by the concept of being handed off to someone else. He still didn't look her way, but he did nod slightly. Winona didn't reach out to take it. "...why?"

"I…" he chewed at his lip. She could see the consideration going into his next words, as if he was betraying some big secret. "I don't think it's… safe… for me to have it."

"You don't think it's safe?"

"I'm… I'm worried. That I'll lose control and. You know. Use it. To hurt you guys." She watched as his shoulders hunched slightly, as if he was struggling against the urge to curl into himself. "You can give it back when I'm all better, okay?" He added after another long moment of hesitance. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt by it."

She opened her mouth to protest further. They knew it couldn't hurt any of them. It absorbed darkness and poison- two things they were distinctly lacking. Even if Webber tried to attack them with it, it wouldn't do anything.

But… she closed it after a moment. Tyler finally turned to look at her, and there was something so desperate in his gaze. It was so much more than what he was saying, and there was something, something, behind his eye that screamed at her. Look at me! See through me! Stop believing my lies!

Maybe she was putting meaning to things as small as looks now, though, because she knew what it would amount to.

At the time, though, the words went unheard. She chose not to press him, not to drag the truth out of him. Instead, she slowly uncurled her hand and reached out to take it.

And immediately dropped it when he relinquished his hold.

Winona flinched back, her good hand flying to the palm of the bad one. There wasn't any way she could hold the weapon with her bad hand, but somehow, she had forgotten that. She had forgotten the numbness, the clumsy feeling of dead fingers trying to function as normal.

The second the weapon hit the ground, Tyler's gaze was snapping towards her. At first, she thought it was in anger for dropping his prized sword, but then she saw it melt into something else.

Fear? Confusion? She couldn't tell at the time.

Guilt, her mind helpfully supplied now, even though he couldn't have known.

"What happened to your hand?" Tyler breathed, gaze quickly flicking between the sword on the ground and the hand she was tightly grasping. She didn't respond immediately, because he knew how he would take it. She had known, and that was why she didn't want him to know.

"Nothing. Just asleep. You know how it is." She shook the frostbitten limb as if to try to wake it up before using her good hand to reach again for his sword. "Sorry, I didn't-"

His hand flashed out to grab her good wrist before she could stop it. Winona froze instinctively; she could feel the shudders running through his arm.

"What happened to your hand?" He asked again, and this time, it wasn't a request. Winona still found herself hesitating, unwilling to expose the hand. The boy wasn't about to relent, though. He simply held her wrist tightly (was he digging his claws in?) until she gave a small sigh of acquiescence. Tyler's grip loosened slowly, and as soon as she was able to, she pulled away and peeled the glove off of her bad hand.

Tyler hissed before it was even fully off. Winona had… admittedly, been trying to ignore her frostbite. She hadn't seen under the glove since she showed Wilson. Now, the skin was no longer pale and waxy. It had turned to an ugly, purple-black bruise color. There had been swelling, as well, which only exemplified the awfulness of the injury.

"It doesn't hurt," she offered, trying to dispel the tension that had suddenly fallen over them. He reached out without a word, and gently grasped the wrist of her frostbitten hand. He turned it over a few times, a deep look of concern growing further and further with every second.

"When did this happen?" He asked quietly as he released her. Winona replaced her glove, once again 'out of sight, out of mind', before answering.

"Not in this world."

"The last one then," he pressed.

She nodded

"When I attacked you." Tyler's voice suddenly sounded tight and stunted. "When I- we- when we attacked you. That's when it happened?"

"Not everything is your fault," Winona murmured. It wasn't a denial, because Tyler's assumption was true, but she had to make that clear. "Just… just because something bad happens, Tyler, it doesn't mean it's your fault."

"But it is, isn't it!?" He burst. He spoke quickly, as if the words were pressing against his chest and begging to be let out. "It is my fault, because that's exactly what happened, right!?"

"You weren't the one who attacked me," she reminded him sternly. He opened his mouth to protest but before a single syllable could even leave she interrupted him. "It. Wasn't. You."

"It might as well have been," he whispered.

"No." Winona shook her head. "The one who attacked me was a spider that felt threatened. If I remember correctly, you were the one who prevented him from decapitating me."

"I don't even know if that was me. I… I couldn't even tell where he began and I ended. What if- what if that's-" he cut himself off, suddenly choking on breaths that had become far too fast.

It was a long night for the both of them. It wasn't enough to coax the boy out of the panic attack he had dragged himself into. Even long after his breaths had settled and his muscles uncoiled, he alternated between growling uselessly at nothing and weeping softly at everything. When Wilbur woke up to see this scene, the prime ape said nothing. He simply gazed at them with sad eyes and gently took the boy from Winona's arms.

Before Winona left, she heard a tiny, choked voice. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She had seen all of this happen with her own two eyes. And still, her mind refused to see the possibility. It just saw a mannequin, because there was no possible way the worst was true.

Wilbur was getting less sleep. She wasn't sure when she noticed it, or when exactly it started to happen, but she noticed the prime ape drifting off more during the day. Leaning against something to rest his eyes for a few minutes. Sometimes, he would sleep well into the afternoon before finally jerking to wakefulness.

When Winona did finally notice it, it had already gotten bad. She asked him about it, but Wilbur had only shaken his head a bit and let out a small sigh. "It's been a bad few nights," he said.

It wasn't until she woke up during one of these 'bad' nights that she saw another sign, and another reason she blamed herself for not stepping in sooner.

It wasn't Wilbur keeping himself awake all those nights. It was the presence of a small, broken boy who clung to the prime ape to ride out bouts of hysterical tears and violent thrashing. Wilbur caught her eye, and he looked so lost and uncertain that she wasn't even sure how to approach it.

But again, it was easy to look past them. It was easy to assume it was nightmares plaguing the boy, causing him to seek the attention of his friend. Especially when she would see Tyler the next morning, that big grin on his face as he talked and the laughter he would let out when one of the others would throw a snowball his way.

And then, one day, it all stopped. The desperate clinginess, the long nights spent pouring his sorrows out to anyone awake enough to listen. It vanished suddenly, as if the period had never existed in the first place. It was with a brightness in his eye that he proclaimed to her that he was feeling better, and that he was sorry for worrying them but it was in the past.

He had figured it out, he said.

Of course, Winona had assumed the best. He had figured out the source of his pain and was working on repairing it. He had figured out what he needed to do to keep himself happy. He had figured it out.

What a vague statement. One that she hadn't asked for elaboration on, because why would she?

There came one day when he vanished for almost a solid hour before returning- shivering and sneezing, but with a prize clutched in his claws. A delicately shaped flower, one that had flash-frozen seemingly overnight and now remained in a state of status. It remained a vibrant magenta, despite the fact that it should have died long ago. He looked pleased with himself, more than happy to give the plant over to Wilbur, who turned it over a few times and commented on its color, its shape, its sturdiness to survive the cold.

Tyler beamed as the gift was accepted. He dragged the prime ape close and hugged him, whispering something under his breath that only Wilbur seemed to catch.

All at once, the light drained from Wilbur's eyes. He paled, fiercely whispering something back which Tyler seemed to accept immediately.

She would ask him, later, what he said. Wilbur stilled, his entire body freezing so suddenly he nearly stumbled over himself in the middle of a step. Winona could see the conflict in his eyes as he struggled with how to answer, before finally admitting: "He told me not to forget about him."

"As if you could," Winona said with an amused huff, but Wilbur didn't seem to share the same amusement.

"I'm scared for him," Wilbur whispered.

"He'll be fine," Winona had stupidly insisted. "Trust me. He's a strong kid."

It was the very same night she woke up to stifled sniffles and half-aborted sobs. Still drowsy from sleep, Winona lifted her head, expecting to see Tyler clinging to Wilbur again. But Wilbur was a few feet away, still fast asleep, and Tyler was curled over himself with both hands firmly covering his mouth.

"Ty?"

He jerked around violently, his eye huge with terror and shame.

"I- I didn't mean to," he sputtered around his fingers. "I didn't mean to, I- I woke up, and-"

That's all Winona needed to be wide awake. She immediately shuffled over to him and gently took a hold of one of his arms. He allowed her to move it with little protest.

That's when she saw the clawmarks.

Thin, desperate scratches that lined his arms all the way to the elbow. Any attempt to ask who had done this to him died on her tongue when she noticed a sickening pattern.

The marks on his left arm were thin, yes, but deep. Intense pressure had been put against the skin to split it, causing blood to leak out sluggishly from the wounds. The marks on his right arm, however, were much lighter. Scratches that only had beads of blood around the corners as opposed to the frantic, wild clawing his opposite arm had suffered. Winona felt something building in her throat, but whether it was a sob, a scream, or straight up vomit was something she couldn't even afford to guess.

"What did you do?" Her voice came out hoarse and strained. She knew it was the worst thing to say, but no other possible words came to her head.

"I- I-" Tyler's lip wobbled and his eye cast down. She saw him grip his arm tightly with the opposite hand before wincing and releasing it. "There was- a nightmare-" Disjointed words struggled to make a full sentence. "Tried to f-fight it, but-"

But… he had clawed himself by accident in his own blind terror?

"It was… in me," he choked out. "I… I was trying to get it out- I just wanted it out. It was so bad. A-and I-"

"There's nothing bad in you," Winona murmured as she examined the wounds littering his arms. He shuddered under her gaze, and she could hear his breath catching in his throat.

"But there is," he whispered. "There's something evil. It wants to hurt you."

"That's not you," she reminded him gently. "And you aren't going to hurt me. You aren't going to hurt anybody."

A fresh wave of tears fell from his eye when he blinked. "If I do…" Tyler said. "If I do try to hurt someone, stop me. Please. Stop me. I don't care what you have to do. E-even if you have to… to…" He couldn't finish his own sentence. Instead, it was interrupted yet again by his own weeping sorrow.

"You won't ever hurt one of us," she promised. "I know you, and I know you wouldn't hurt one of us on purpose. You never have to worry about that, Ty."

He didn't give her an answer, but his whimpers and cries became louder at it.

Wilson was the one to wake up to this scene. He blinked tiredly at them as if confused by what he was seeing, but eventually understanding seemed to hit him. His brow creased in uncertainty as he caught Winona's gaze, and she found herself holding her breath to see what he would do.

He ended up waking Wilbur, then watched from a distance with shadowed eyes as Wilbur took charge where Winona should have prior. The prime ape silently wrapped Tyler's wounds and, after a moment of consideration, made new little wrappings to cover his claws. Just in case.

He had known. Wilbur had tried to warn them, but his warnings went unheard. After all, Tyler was a strong kid. He would be fine.

Because if you keep telling yourself something, it must be true.

The day began in a much more peaceful manner than usual. Winona was surprised to wake up on her own and see that she was the first awake. Wilbur was curled into a ball a few feet away, snoring softly. Wilson's back was to her, but the slowness of his breathing showed that he was still asleep. Tyler wasn't curled up against anyone like he normally would be. Instead, he had balled himself up against one of the far edges of their shelter, something that would have been concerning if it weren't for the calm expression on his sleeping face.

Winona took a moment to look over each of her companions, an ember of warmth lighting in her chest. They had been in this world awhile now - a few weeks, at least - and they had run into very few obstacles. The cold weather was about the only thing they had had to worry about, and as long as they kept themselves covered to the best of their ability, remained in the heat when they could, and stuck together when they couldn't, they had been able to tough out the freeze.

There was no hint of a growing warmth. Wilbur and Tyler had both agreed that there was no hint of snowmelt on the horizon. No suggestion that this winter was going to end as soon as the other seasons had in the previous worlds.

And yet… it wasn't all bad. In fact, it was relatively relaxing compared to some of their other ventures. When it was all quiet and she had the time, it was nice to sit by the fire and gaze up through the branches, imagining soft snowflakes landing on the other side of a window while a younger girl watched with amazement. She could almost lose herself enough in the fantasy enough to hear Charlie excitedly asking about sledding and snowball fights.

But the moment would end soon enough, leaving the truth to sink in. They were no longer little girls, and Charlie was far away from her now.

As the others started to stir, Winona paced around their meager shelter and patched any gaps she could see with thin, malleable branches or dead leaves. By the time she was satisfied, all three of the others were already awake and Wilbur was dutifully working on breakfast. Tyler would normally be by the prime ape's side, slowly absorbing his cooking skills, but today, Tyler seemed more distracted than usual. He had taken up a stick and was aimlessly dragging it across the dirt in a straight line, back and forward.

Instead, Wilson was the one helping by the fire. While he didn't have the same interest in cooking as the two furred members, it was still nice to see him and Wilbur working alongside each other without arguing. The duo had acted as the primary hunting party, given Wilbur's twin unwillingness to let Wilson out of his sight or leave Tyler alone. It seemed to have a surprisingly positive effect on their relationship, one that Winona had not foreseen and yet enjoyed nonetheless. It was nice to see the entire group getting along.

"Hey, Ty," Wilbur called, drawing the boy's attention from the ground. As he offered Tyler his food, he absently suggested: "Wanna spar later today?"

Tyler blinked in surprise, his expression clearing somewhat. "Spar?" He repeated, as if in disbelief.

"It has been awhile since we worked on any fighting skills," Wilson mused. "Wouldn't hurt anything."

"With me?" Tyler pressed, his gaze flicking between each of his companions. "Don't you guys have some sort of pact preventing me from doing anything that could even be considered slightly dangerous?"

His tone was doubtful, but Winona could see the hope in his eyes. He desperately wanted to be given permission. It was true that they had been careful to keep him from hurting himself- after all, he only recently stopped feeling the effects of the spider meat and he was still far lighter than he should have been. Still, Wilbur gave him a beaming smile.

"Of course. You seem to be feeling better, and there's no use letting all your fighting skills go to waste."

Tyler's whiskers twitched and his eyes glimmered in excitement. It had been awhile since she had seen him look so enthusiastic about anything.

As Tyler and Wilbur finished eating, Winona and Wilson had a quick sparring match of their own. Their moves were a bit slower than usual, but it was clear they hadn't quite lost their edge yet. Winona gripped her makeshift weapon- basically nothing but a stick she found on the ground- until her knuckles turned white, but Wilson looked as if he was entirely in his element.

She definitely had strength on him, but not the fighting prowess. She had been taken away from Earth more recently than him, and as such had much less time to hone her fighting skills. Soon, Winona was on the ground with a stick pointed at her throat. Wilson proudly smirked as he stepped back and allowed her to get back up.

Winona blew out air from between her teeth and shook out her hands. Despite the frigid temperature outside, sweat dripped down her forehead, which she wiped off on her sleeve. "Good fight," she breathed. "You definitely have experience on me."

"I was afraid you'd break my leg if I didn't," he teased, a tone of voice that sounded so strange on Wilson that she nearly told herself she heard it wrong. The amusement on his face told otherwise. Winona found herself smiling slightly as she saw it.

A good day, she mused.

As soon as Winona surrendered, Tyler jumped to his feet, eagerly waiting to get his own spar in. He still refused to wield his sword, despite the fact it was probably safer than even the stick he did have. Winona winced. She could only imagine the kind of bruises Wilbur would have after this one.

Wilbur stood on two feet a few paces away. He waved one hand at the stick in Tyler's hands before crossing his arms. "Come on, sticks? We've got built-in weapons. Ones that we won't lose in the heat of battle." He brandished each clawed digit on his hands. "Let's show them how it's done."

If it was possible for Tyler's grin to grow wider, it did. He tossed away the makeshift weapon and brandished his own claws, each one still meticulously wrapped after his episode a few days ago. It was probably a good thing, Winona considered, since Wilbur probably knew how to hold back, and she had a feeling Tyler didn't.

Winona and Wilson, predictably, fought like humans. With weapons that they used to block and swing.

Tyler and Wilbur, however, fought like animals. Each hit dealt on each other was either dodged or tanked, with little room for error and no abilities to block with anything other than their own bodies. It was clear, once more, that Wilbur had far more experience. His movements were strong and precise, his eyes always calculating a few steps ahead to prevent fangs or claws from making contact with his skin.

Tyler was blindingly fast. Winona was surprised to see that Wilbur was kept mostly on the defensive, one canine poking partially out of his mouth as his chest heaved. The few moves he did make each landed, but there weren't nearly as many.

Death by a thousand cuts, is what Winona would have to describe it. A sort of dance between a faster but weaker opponent and a slower but stronger one. She could barely keep up.

It all went downhill with one accident. One misstep. An attack that Tyler should have dodged but that came in on his blind side. It wasn't a bad injury, simply thin clawmarks that tore some fur out, but part of it went over the scar covering that side of his face.

And suddenly, the boy went very, very still.

Wilbur yelped and stumbled back, hands pressed over his mouth and eyes wide. "Oh my god, Tyler. I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

Tyler lunged at him.

Later, Winona would wonder what caused the reaction. Was it anger? A panic response? The arachnid instincts taking over as soon as he was injured?

Whatever it was, it was brutal.

Winona was frozen, unable to comprehend what she was watching. Everything had seemed so lighthearted just seconds ago, but now there was blood and furious snarling and pained cries and she had no idea what to do. She was frozen. Paralyzed.

It was Wilson who finally stepped in. The scientist grabbed Tyler around the midsection and yanked him off of the now injured prime ape, immediately shifting the force of Tyler's rage towards him. Fangs bared and claws torn free from their coverings, Tyler looked more like a wild animal than anything else.

Wilson wasn't stupid, though, and he knew how to fight. Specifically, he knew how to fight this particular opponent. In just a matter of seconds, he had the boy pinned to the ground with one hand wrapped around his good wrist, a knee on his chest, and another hand pressing the back of his head into the dirt. Tyler's growling petered off, but the fierce glare he wore didn't. Chest heaving and covered in blood- oh my God blood-

"Wilbur!" Winona burst as she finally snapped out of her stupor.

Wilbur was already struggling to pull himself back to his feet. His breaths came fast and uneven. Blood dripped from his mouth.

Winona rushed towards him and slid to her knees, eyes frantically taking in the mauling he had sustained. The side of his face had been rendered a bloody mess, only barely missing his eye and sparing his sight, although it wouldn't be long before the eye on that side would swell shut. Puncture wounds ravaged his leg, which damaged any attempt he made to stand. When he looked up and caught sight of Winona, he winced back.

He was shaking violently. One of his hands clutched at his chest as if trying to dig something out that wasn't there.

He was terrified.

Winona couldn't tell if he was properly registering her presence or if he thought she was something else.

"Crown-" he choked. The object in question had fallen off his head and now rested in the dirt, pristine and golden as ever.

"Worry about that later," Winona urged. "Are you okay? What hurts the most?"

Wilbur shook his head and once again pointed to his crown. "Give it." It was less of a demand and more of a plea.

So many conflicting emotions raged through Winona's blood, and all Wilbur could think about was his crown? She wanted to scream, but whether it was at Tyler, Wilbur for caring about the wrong thing, or herself for not being able to react for so long, she couldn't even begin to guess. Instead of screaming at anyone, though, she silently passed the piece over to him.

He let out a stuttering sigh and leaned back with the crown pressed against his chest. "Okay, okay," he hissed. "I'll be fine. I'm good. Alive." He cursed under his breath a few times, claws digging in slightly to the golden surface. His face was screwed in pain, and he couldn't hide the way he was clearly beginning to hyperventilate behind his forced light tone.

"You're certainly not fine!" Winona exclaimed. "You're covered in your own blood, Wilbur! You- grr- you need medical attention."

"Hmm." Wilbur closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his quick and shallow breath puffing clouds of steam into the air. "Okay, yeah, maybe I do," he conceded with a tight voice. It sounded like his vocal cords were being pulled to their extreme. Like he had to drag words past his throat just to speak.

She moved her hands towards him, hovering awkwardly over the injured side of his face as she struggled to figure out what to do. Wilbur cracked one eye open and flinched violently when he saw her presence. Winona immediately drew back, folding her hands to her chest in uncertainty.

"I'm here," Wilson murmured. She jumped in surprise at his voice and turned to see a strange, empty look on the man's face. "I can take care of him. Go deal with Webber."

His face was empty, but his voice was low and angry.

Winona hesitated, her eyes fixed on the wounds decorating her friend's body. Wilbur gave her a silent thumbs up even through his panic.

With that, she relented. Tyler was still where Wilson had pinned him down, but he was sitting up now. His body had gone entirely still, as if he had been suddenly petrified. She expected him to look angry, scared, maybe even righteous if he thought it was deserved. Which is why the look of complete and utter emptiness scared her so much.

"What happened, Tyler?" She asked gently. If she had any hopes of getting a decent answer out of him, they were immediately dashed.

"I hurt him," he whispered, tiny and afraid.

"Yes," she said. There was no use pretending it didn't happen.

"You said I wouldn't hurt anyone."

Winona winced, and at that very moment, she felt how thin the ice she was treading was. One wrong word, one wrong movement, and everything would only get worse. She swallowed heavily as she thought over the words in her head. After all, she had already lied once, and if he suspected her of lying again, he would never trust her.

"Did he scare you?" She tried after a long moment. It was the only thing she could even think to say. When he remained still, she reached forward and touched the new scratches trailing over his scar. They were just deep enough for beads of blood to appear at the corners, closer to the scratch you might get playing with a cat, but it was the specific location of them that forged that theory. Tyler closed his eye and let out a shuddering sigh. She could see the urge to lean into the touch painted on his face, but he didn't move.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered. "Is… is he okay?"

"He'll be fine," Winona promised, even though she wasn't entirely sure. Still, she forced a smile on her face. "He's just a bit banged up and shaken."

The boy didn't immediately respond. His eye was glazed in residual terror. Winona shifted herself slightly to ensure that she was blocking his view from Wilbur and Wilson.

"Are you going to do it?" Tyler suddenly set his jaw, his muscles noticeably tensing as if bracing for something. Winona struggled over his question for a moment, but before she could come up with a good response he continued, and every word out of his mouth made bile rise higher and higher in her throat. "Just do it, Winona. They don't have to see it. Please, just do it quickly. I… I don't want to feel it."

"What are you talking about?" She pressed, because there was no way. It was always a mannequin, always a mannequin, always a mannequin-

He looked so… resigned. At peace? "You have to kill me."

She jerked back and slapped one hand over her mouth. "Ty, I'm not-"

"Don't-," he growled. "Don't call me that. Don't humanize me. Don't argue either. I'm not a human. I haven't been in a long time. I'm a predator. It doesn't matter how nicely you treat a wild animal. Eventually, its instincts will always take over and it ends up hurting you. It'll kill you just because of what it is. Just do it, please." A single tear fell from his eye. He looked away. "Just… just let me save you."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Tyler."

"I'm not the Young Heir, Winona."

That… did give her pause. She blinked silently at the boy, repeating the words over and over in her head. "What…?"

"I'm not the Young Heir!" He shouted. "The sword? My sword? It has a name." Tyler took in a shaky breath and buried his face in his hands. "It's the Sword of the Martyr. Me. I'm not destined to make it to the Throne. I'm the Martyr. I always have been. From the day I was born, I was destined to die for all of you. I've come to terms with it." He shook his head. "But you won't kill me. Don't make me have to do it myself." When she didn't immediately respond, his eyes started to glitter with unnatural wetness. "Please, Winona. I'm begging you."

She couldn't even begin to register his words. This… this boy. This child. He was pleading with her to kill him. It was more than just guilt or fear. She could see the way his face twisted, the faint vestiges of hope that he clung to. Not hope that she would stop him, no, hope that she would listen to him and do it.

He wanted to die.

Oh God, he wanted to die.

"Ty…" She reached a hand out, a million pleading words and phrases already on the tip of her tongue, but every single one dying before it could make it out.

He shook his head at her silence and took a few steps back, just out of her reach. "I... okay. I understand. You think this is me acting rashly because I'm upset. But that's not it. Winona, this is my decision. It's not something that just appeared out of nowhere. I've thought it out extensively. If you won't-" his voice choked up. "Th-then… I'll do it myself. I'm sorry, Winona. Please… um.. Tell Wilbur I said I'm sorry, too. Although it's not going to help anything." Tyler gave her a tiny smile. Unlike any of the smiles he had shown this entire world, this one was soft and real. A single smile full of melancholy and determination and the knowledge that he was right. "I love you guys. So… so much. Thank you for giving me a family again. I promise, it's for the best for all of us." Unbelievably, a stuttering purr rose in his throat as newly freed tears fell down his cheek. "I won't be in pain anymore. Okay? I'll be happy again."

He turned on his heel, but before he could start walking away, she lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. "No, stop, we can talk about this. We can help you. You just need to let us. Wilbur will be fine, Tyler, you don't have to worry. He'll forgive you; it's not the end-"

Winona wasn't sure if he was still fight or flight mode, but the second his eye turned to her again, she knew he would free himself from her hold and there was nothing she could do about it

He was small, light, impossibly fast. Before dodging even crossed her mind, he had effectively thrown her to the ground, his glowing sword pointing directly at her face. How he had procured the weapon so quickly, she was unsure. All that she knew was that despite the weight of his actions, his face was calm and peaceful. Accepting. Happy.

"Don't follow me."

He tossed the weapon around, catching it by the blade with the pommel facing towards her. Then, with a quick, fierce hit, he smashed the pommel into her foot.

Winona had to bite back a scream of pain. She couldn't tell if it was broken or not, but enough agony seized her leg that she couldn't even follow if she wanted to… which had been his intention.

By the time she looked back up to say something more, to do anything more to convince him to stay, the boy had already vanished.

Winona couldn't move. Once more, when she should have been doing anything other than sitting still like a statue, she couldn't. The first thing she did when she finally got her wits back about her was to check to see how badly hurt her foot was.

It hadn't hit any bones. He had specifically hit her in a way that she wouldn't be able to chase after him but without causing any long-term injury.

"He ran off?" Wilson huffed. Winona snapped her gaze towards the scientist, who was brushing his hands off on his pants. Wilbur still looked dazed, and there were still drips of blood around his mouth, but most of his injuries by now had been covered properly. She winced at the sight of his swollen face. "Figures."

"Wilbur-" she started hoarsely, because surely he knew. Right? Had he known? Or had they all been as in the dark as she was?

"We need to go after him," the prime ape said. His voice was low with pain, but something else too. Sadness?

"He'll be back once he calms down," Wilson said with a sigh. "He always does."

"Wilson." Winona's voice cracked. He looked slightly annoyed when he caught her eye. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment before looking back towards Wilbur. "He doesn't intend on coming back."

Wilbur's eyes widened and his fur started bristling. He tried to jump to his feet, but the wounds across his leg hindered his movement. He looked frantic, pupils shrunken to pinpricks and muscles coiled with tension. "Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god-"

"What do you mean?" Wilson demanded. "He'll just freeze to death out there."

"Wilson." She said again. He let out a rough, annoyed sound, but she didn't respond to it. She didn't speak until he finally looked back at her. "I know that. He knows that. That's the point."

She could see the gears turning in his head as he thought. She knew exactly when it clicked, before suddenly pain and fear and horror twisted his face. He understood what was happening. What was going to happen.

Exactly what the boy was planning to do.