Sunset Valley yeah. i couldn't either.

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"They cut a deal with us (as if we had a choice) - paid us to let them hide out 'til some Warlords showed up. Then ambushed 'em. But we all got caught in the crossfire. My neighbor's kid told me something that still bounces 'round my head to this day. Right before the light went out in her tiny eyes, she whispered, "I can't feel anything." Yeah. I couldn't either."

Drifter from Destiny

they had found safety in a valley.

quennell had not bothered to look behind him the whole time. not even at his own behind. which had been wetly warm and now seemed sticky, colder than the rest of him. it ached, horribly and deeply. he wondered for a moment if the bear had managed to take his whole backside.

but still he didn't look as he laid upon a bed of snow. once pure and white, fresh. now stained by the boys who claimed it.

@Swordfish?

he asked, nearly not registering that the boy had indeed escaped with him.

it felt impossible to tell where his own bleeding had ended and swordfish's begun. or if it was the other way around. or if swordfish was really still here at all, through the flurries that took over and the way his yellow eyes hid behind half-lids.

if he closed his eyes long enough, he could be convinced that the smell of blood could be the smell of the sea instead.

The cold had numbed much of his pain.

As the boys slogged into the valley, breathing heavily, eyes wild, Swordfish finally felt the weight of their journey. There was pain in his ribs so violent that he thought it would kill him. They had both lost a great deal of blood. Quennell’s bloody rear end had been the mark that he had followed. The only thing that had kept him running had been the thought of the bear catching up to him.

When Quennell finally spoke to him, Swordfish glanced at the other boy with a heavy-lidded stare. His head bobbed slightly, sickly. He attempted to lift his snout up and inspect the other figure, to make sure that he wasn’t hurt elsewhere. The moment he had tried it, the world turned beneath his paws.

Swordfish slumped into the snow. He had never felt so dizzy in all his life. Weakness wrapped its fingers around his throat and choked, and choked…

Ma? he asked softly.

posts will probably be long this thread for quen growth — never any need to match <3

it was bad.

he did not need to be any medic or therapist to decide that for them. two young boys bloodied in the snow, laid out like the ragdolls they had been for the bear.

quennell practically tailless, swordfish sliced sidelong.

the winds whipped around them and the snow helped his rear more than he knew in those moments. the dustings of day old snow swirled and fogged the area. the bear could have been breathing on them and quen figured he would have been none the wiser.

"Ma?"

lazily, his head rolled to the side. staring at swordfish, or rather through him. wondering if somehow meemee had come to them. maybe she had been doting, maybe she was here to tell them it was alright. to joke that shark fighting was not fit for bear fighting.

but there was no meemee. there was no maman in sight.

and everybody was going to hate quen for taking swordfish out with him that day, for letting them both get half-bear devoured. if they made it home. if they ever saw the faces again.

the face swordfish called for in the snow.

maybe njord would hate him most. for telling the pirate boy the story of that disastrous demon, shardik, only for quen to lead his son into the ghost of that demon. he would have found the comedy in it if he did not lay here. wounded from the rear.

's jus' me, s'ord. he laughed, then coughed slightly. lungs burned from the cold exhaustion. then he was crying again. uncertain when his laughter had turned into tears again.

it was just him.

quennell dahomey-rivaini — a son of the sea not fit to face the world beyond the coast.

Que…

Swordfish’s eyes were shut tight. The longer he stayed in the snow, the further he sank into it. The warmth on his body was minimal, but it was enough to create a dent perfectly fit to his lean and bloodied frame. The young wolf knew the voice of his friend. He knew that Quennell was someone he loved, someone he had been excited to spend time with, someone who had…

The bear’s eyes resurfaced in his mind. His heart raced.

Quen.

All he could think about was the dark hole in their home where he longed to crawl, with the furs he had collected from various hunts, and fall into a deep sleep. Heavy as his lids were, they felt weighted down by exhaustion. Swordfish thought to lift himself up, to check on his friend. The pain that spiked through him made this impossible. He was delirious with it – out of his mind.

Yer hurt. Not that he knew how to assist the red-necked pirate. Swordfish swallowed at the lump in his throat, hoping that it would help ease the suffering he felt. Snow had started to fall into his wounds. The cold touch of it was soothing and sharp, keeping him barely conscious.

A sigh wracked his lean figure.

I wanna go home… Swordfish moaned into the cold. He wanted his mother.

he only listened for a long while.

there were a million fears tucked closely to his heart. the fear that going home meant bringing the spirit of shardik there to their family. the fear that they wouldn't even make it home. the fear that if they did make it home, they'd all see how foolish it had been for quennell to spearhead much of anything — which was selfish. that much he knew.

he wanted to go home too.

he wanted to know that they'd be okay, that sapphique was okay and that shardik's spirit did not terrorize them now too.

'm sorry, s'ord. he mumbled through the hushing of his cries. he tried to roll, to be closer to the boy he called friend. brother, practically. only to feel the pain singe up his spine.

the walk home him might kill him if the bear did not come back to finish it up.

we be makin' it. promise.

he just did not know when he would find that energy to move from their dented places upon the earth. he did not know if swordfish would even be capable of moving himself either. maybe they should call, yet he feared the bear would hear that too.

he had also herded them far from sapphique for safety of home — and now he felt dumb for that decision too.

on t'ree?

if swordfish was not already asleep, for quen felt the gentle pull of it too.

If he’d had more of a mind to understand what his friend was shouldering, Swordfish would have been quick to dismiss the apology. Instead, Quennell’s words fluttered meaninglessly through his head until sorry was all that he could hear. The young wolf was sorry, yes. He knew that his mother would be upset, horrified, distraught at the danger they had faced. Having just erased that worry from her features – the worry that had settled there during Njord’s absence – Swordfish was not eager to replace it.

Sleep was tempting him into the darkness. The bleeding had slowed and the wounds in his side were throbbing less and less. If he tried hard enough, he might forget the attack from the Shardik and they could nap away the fear.

Quennell spoke again, this time with a prompt. They were to rise and continue their journey on the count of three. Three seconds did not feel adequate. Three hours would not even ease the soreness of his legs or the ache of his broken rib. A dark thought in the back of Swordfish’s mind told him that if he did not rise and continue walking, that place in the snow would become his grave.

On t’ree.

A long pause left silence in the space between them.

One…

one.

one heavy sigh escaped him in a slip. one bear. one bear who had come out from the depths of hell to terrorize —

two...

young boys. two bodies laid in the snow, dusted by it now even too. two boys who had been excited for the world beyond and just as swiftly kicked down by it.

he had forgot to say three as he laid there and considered more things than he ever had in his life.

he remembered how he had been extended an invite to come to the rise and now he wondered if he should ever leave home at all. if he should ever bother to even show his face again. or maybe he needed to go far away from home. leave swordfish back in the hands of safety, then slink away.

if shardik was around, quen could trail him off maybe. make things right.

he inhaled and found it ached too, the shift of his ribs on his spine.

he thought of maman rosalyn and wondered how she had endured as much as she had. he thought of njord with his own collection of scars now.

guilt burned in the form of bile in the back of his throat.

Two lasted for a very long time.

Swordfish blinked his eyes open to feel that snow had gathered along his back. There was roughly an inch or more that had settled there during the duo’s rest. One shift told him that his body was stiff and frozen. The blood that had oozed from the gaping wounds in his side had become so cold that he did not bleed, anymore. The numbness that was offered by winter had spared him the pain, too.

T’ree, he grunted, trying to force himself to rise.

As soon as he had found the lock in his elbows that would give him leverage to stand, the dizziness swept through him and forced him back down. Swordfish’s snout dug into the snow with a groan. Quennell had grown quieter and quieter. Worry sparked life into his body, lifting his head from the cold and peering toward the red-naped pirate.

T’ree, Quen… he said again. Tears sprung to his eyes when he tried to push himself up. The young wolf was not steady on his paws, when he found them.

three.

they had agreed on three and quennell managed to flex his toes. then his legs. somewhere between pain and a concerning amount of coldness on his rear — or that's what he compared it to.

he tried his best to rise. found himself hardly as nimble as he had once been and there was a strain in every muscle. some part of him wished to crumble back down into the snow. maybe it would not be so terrible to rest here for a while...

t'ree, quen.

he heaved as he forced himself to stand upright.

the first step would be the hardest, but if he could start, things would get easier.

The other boy didn’t say anything as he worked up the strength to lift himself out of the snow. Swordfish felt improper watching Quennell struggle with the weight of his own body. He thought it was a frightening picture of vulnerability – one he could not properly face. When the red-naped boy made a grunt and found his footing was when the redtail thought it was fit to check him over.

Cold were the prods of his nose against Quennell’s shoulder, ribs, haunch. He sniffed at the other boy with a crease of worry in his expression. The scent of blood had become so commonplace that it seemed strange not to smell it so strongly. Both of their wounds had shriveled at the touch of winter and had almost ceased their bleeding. It might allow them a chance to get back home.

But which way was their home? Swordfish had never been out so far.

Quen… the young seafarer choked out. Do ya know where home is?

Was it wise to follow their stumbling bloody trail back to where they had encountered the Shardik?

let's fade and chuck these boys home? <3

did he?

did...

he looked around. the trail of their blood being softly snowed over as time went on. following it back would take them somewhere familiar, but would risk the presence of the bear.

they could try. loosely, maybe deviate at some part on that trail.

oh. yah.

he sniffled and felt the aches and pains more intensely now. but they had to go.

or the wilds might keep them forever.

You got it, dude! ^^

Relief made it easier to move. If Quennell knew how to get them back home, that was a promising start. Though the young redtail was sick with loss of blood and weary from their stumbling in the snow, the idea of home was a bright warm light on the horizon. Swordfish thought of his mother with an aching in his chest. He had to make it home. The young wolf thought of his brother, too. Maybe now, Fish would have something cool to share with his adventurous sibling.

Nudging at Quennell, the two began their slow walk back to the sea.