AN: Hiya, guys! Part four of the Found family Kismet fic is here! Okay, here's the thing, I TOTALLY suck at writing drama and multi-chapter stories and that stuff, so deal with it! Next chapter will be better, I promise I'll try.

I definitely accept and welcome critism and any comments or reviews you guys may have.

Anyway, enjoy!

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Through the tempest

Hype looked up for mere seconds, as if to check Ablaze was still there. "He's homeless," he muttered, his voice filled with worry.

"Homeless?"

Hype nodded. "He lives under a leaf. It's not right."

Ablaze's eyes widened, but he quickly regained his composure. "But he's always been like this. Are you sure he even wants help?"

Hype nodded emphatically. "Everyone deserves a home, Ablaze. He's just a kid, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

Ablaze sighed, running a hand through his red locks. "You're right. So, what's your plan?"

"We need to talk to him, let him know he's not alone," Hype said, his determination setting in. "And we need to do it together, as a family."

"Now?" the younger asked. A nod. He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you hear the news?"

"No?"

"Bro, there's a storm hitting the village."

The blue troll shrugged with a smile. "It's just a bit of rain and wind. Nothing we can't handle."

Ablaze looked at him. "No, like, a full-blown storm, man."

Hype's heart started to race at this point. "He's out there alone, 'Blaze. We can't just leave him to fend for himself in this tempest," he muttered, his voice cracking with panic.

Ablaze, ever the voice of reason, tried to calm his brother. "Hype, we need to think this through. It's not just a little rain; that's a real storm out there. We can't help him if we become victims of the weather ourselves," he reasoned, his words steady despite the rising wind outside.

"But what if he's scared? Cold? What if he needs someone?" Hype argued, his eyes wide with fear for his not-officially friend.

"We will help him, but we must be smart about it. We can just wait here till it passes, then go look for him."

Hype took a deep breath, trying to quell the storm inside him as the one outside began to rage on. But this wasn't right.

The oldest's resolve was unshakable as he grabbed his coat, the fabric swirling with the urgency of his movements. "I can't just stand here knowing a kid is out there in this storm," he declared, his voice firm.

Ablaze watched his brother, the concern evident in his furrowed brow. "Hype, it's dangerous," he cautioned, but there was a hint of resignation in his tone, knowing all too well the depth of Hype's determination.

"I know it is, but he's a kid, younger than Boom, maybe," Hype replied, his eyes meeting Ablaze's. "He's out there alone, and I can't– no, I won't let fear stop me from doing what's right."

Ablaze let out a long sigh, the sound almost lost to the howling wind outside. "Then I'm coming with you," he said, stepping forward. "At least to make sure you don't do anything reckless."

Hype looked at his brother, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, 'Blaze. I knew I could count on you," he said, clasping Ablaze's shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

They turned around, where their younger brothers stood, looking scared and confused. Trickee was standing in front, Boom's hands gripping tightly at his shirt.

"We're going outside for a bit," Ablaze replied, breaking eye contact. He couldn't afford to get weak.

"But you said-"

"We won't take long," Hype half-lied, he didn't know.

"Rick," Ablaze said firmly yet not unkindly, as his feet stopped at the doorway, "take care of your little brother."

—--

Hype's cloak billowed around him as the wind picked up, sending a chill through his bones. "Think, Hype, think," he muttered to himself, his eyes squinting against the gusts that whipped through the trees.

Ablaze, struggling to keep his footing, called out, "Do you remember which way, Hype? The wind's getting stronger!"

Hype nodded, his mind racing as he tried to picture the map of the area. "Yes, it's somewhere near the outskirts," he shouted back, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.

Ablaze moved closer, his own cloak flapping wildly. "The outskirts? That's not good…" he said, worry creasing his forehead.

"I know, I know, but we're not giving up now, are we?" Hype replied, determination etched in his features.

They pushed forward, the wind seemingly fighting them at every step, as if the very elements were trying to prevent them from reaching the destined area. But the thought of a kid, alone and vulnerable, gave them the strength to persevere. They moved through the storm, and the rain fell heavily, soaking their colorful hair as they navigated the slippery terrain.

Lightning.

They flinched, looking up.

"It's alright," Hype assured, seemingly more himself than his brother.

Yet despite the storm's fury, the duo pressed on, their eyes scanning the environment for any sign of the gray troll. The wind howled around them, but their resolve did not waver; they were set on bringing the kid back with them, willing or not.

"Stay close!" Hype yelled, grabbing Ablaze's hand. "We can't afford to get separated!"

Ablaze nodded, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Just lead the way, Hype. You probably got us lost, anyway."

Hype managed a chuckle through the situation. "I didn't!"

"Did!"

"Did not!"

—--

Branch lay curled beneath the scant shelter of a drooping leaf, the storm's fury a distant echo to the turmoil within his body. His breaths were shallow, each one a struggle against the weakness that gripped him. "So cold," he whispered, the words barely forming as his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

The leaf above trembled, offering little reprieve from the relentless rain that seemed to pierce through him. "Stupid leaf," he murmured, fighting the drowsiness that threatened to engulf him. But his eyelids were heavy, his body begging for the respite of sleep, even as his mind screamed against the danger of succumbing to the darkness.

Branch's thoughts drifted to the warmth of the Troll tree, to the laughter and music that seemed a world away. "Should've... could've been different," he sighed, regret lacing his words. The pain of what he'd lost, of what he'd pushed away, was a sharper sting than the cold that enveloped him.

He closed his eyes, a single tear mingling with the rain on his cheek. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, not exactly sure for what. The storm's howl was a lullaby to his weary soul. And in that moment, the fierce desire to survive, to fight for another day, ignited within him. For the sake of his grandma, who died so he could live. "I won't give up," Branch vowed, a whisper against the storm, as he clung to the hope that the calm would come with the dawn.

His mind wandered through the fog of his discomfort, and there, in the midst of his struggle, he found a memory, a beacon of warmth in the cold storm. "Grandma," he murmured, the name a tender caress to his own ears. He could almost hear her voice, a melody that had once filled the corners of his childhood. "Sing, my little Branch," she would say, "sing, and the storm will dance with you, not against you."

But he couldn't sing. Not anymore.

With effort, he drew in a ragged breath and fought to keep it in till the tightness in his chest eased.

But Branch's world was dimming, the edges of his vision blurring as the storm raged on. "So tired," he mumbled, his voice a thread of sound lost in the wind's fury. The cold had seeped into his bones, and his strength was fading fast.

He struggled to get warm, but his hands were sluggish and slow, almost slipping from their position around himself, and his eyelids were heavy as lead. The rain was a relentless drumbeat, urging him to let go, to slip into the dark comfort of unconsciousness.

But then, amidst the howl of the wind and the chill of the rain, there was warmth, a presence. Branch felt himself being lifted, cradled by arms that seemed both strong and gentle. He tried to lift the lids that has covered his eyed, but all he did was flutter them, and they remained closed.

"Don't worry, we've got you," a voice said, barely audible over the storm.

Branch tried to focus, to cling to the sound of the stranger's voice, but his body wouldn't obey.

"Come on, man, no time for this," another voice joined in, full of concern.

The last thing Branch felt was the sensation of moving, of being carried, before the darkness claimed him, and he knew no more.