Phillip and Liana didn't look much better; their mud-streaked clothes were torn, dark splotches where the bandits had slashed at them stained their shirts, and their faces were covered in sweat and earth. The horses grazing peacefully didn't look much better...Nor did they smell much better.
Matilda wasted no time in rummaging in her little carpet bag and grabbing medical supplies. Remembering how the bandits were talking about how the bag was empty, Cole figured there was some sort of magic in the bag that could keep a great number of objects inside, yet appear empty when someone who didn't own the bag opened it.
Even though the teenagers' wounds throbbed rather painfully and Phillip even complained of feeling light-headed, Matilda insisted on treating the horses first. With her tart instructions she had them use water from the river and foul-smelling soap she had to wash away the clumps of mud on the horses' legs, bellies, torsos, tails, and manes. Then they brushed their fur and manes, and cleaned the mud out from the hooves. The latter was the most difficult for Cole, not only because he had no idea how to do it in the first place, but because he was secretly wary of the horse crushing his toes or smashing his fingers or something.
Phillip was a patient teacher for this bit. He showed Cole how to bend over by the horse's leg, lean against the animal until it lifted its leg, and grab the hoof to scrape the mud and grass out of its foot. Cole could barely see the hoof in the awkward position he was in, let alone clean the mud out. It didn't help his increasing uneasiness when Matilda muttered behind him. "Better not get that bump in the middle, that's the sensitive bit...You'll probably end up with a hoof smashed in your face if you hurt the "frog"."
"Thanks for the helpful advice." Cole groaned under the strain of bending over. "Maybe next time you could--AARRG!"
He didn't get to finish, for Shauntel had stepped on his foot.
He shrugged. "Sure." While wary of drinking something that may not have from his world, he was curious to see what magic potion tasted like.
She handed him the little bottle, saying. "Just a sip will do. Drink too much, well..." She smiled grimly. "The results aren't pretty."
Pushing away a nagging feeling of uneasiness, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. The bright red liquid was cold, yet burned down his throat, and he gagged. The taste was tart, and yet had a sweet touch to the mixture. It wasn't a pleasant drink, but it wasn't too bad, either. Though his stomach turned when the stuff hit the natural acid of his body.
"It'll take a few minuets to work." She returned to bandaging Cole's head, and he allowed himself to relax. He closed his eyes and ignored his churning stomach, instead focusing his attention on the sound of birds singing and chattering up in the treetops, while faint afternoon sun fell in warm, soft rays through the canopy of leaves.
Opening his eyes, he said. "Matilda..."
"Mm?"
"Right when you were pricked by that poison...You looked at me and said..." His voice drifted off.
She scowled at him impatiently. "Well?"
He took a deep breath. "...You said that I looked just like my mother."
There was a deathly silence. Matilda's fingers froze in handling the bandages. Phillip gazed warily from where he sat while his sister paused with one hand still in her hair. A couple of birds even fell silent, as if they too felt the tension in the air.
Matilda's response was quiet. "Well...I suppose you resemble your mother somehow, whether though physical features or personal attributes. Everyone has their parents' traits, it's completely normal."
Cole turned around to face her and scowled. "Don't play dumb!" He snapped. "I know you know more than you're willing to admit, now tell the truth! Did you, or did you not know my mom? If so, why keep that little fact to yourself?!"
"The fact that I can't see is not my hinderence. On the contrary. It is my strength. It keeps me fighting." She rested her head on Aquilla's sloping neck. "One of the reasons I love animals is they don't care if I can't see anything. They love me for who I am inside."
Liana stroked the black and white horse's velvet-pink nose. "Aquilla is my best friend. We ride as one, we play together, sometimes we swim together. When I ride her, I let her take the lead, because she always knows where to go." She then smiled. "Phillip is a good friend, too...When he's not being obnoxious."
Phillip snorted good-naturedly and winked at Cole. "Yeah, we're buddies. I don't let anybody pick on her...And she tells me which girl at school thinks I'm cute."
Cole chuckled and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Most siblings I've met do nothing but fight and act like they want the other one to get hit by a bus."
Liana grinned. "Who says I wouldn't mind Phillip getting hit by a bus?"
"Hey!" He exclaimed in mock indignation.
She swung her sightless eyes to Cole's general direction and asked. "Do you have any siblings? Or friends that feel like siblings, at least?"
"Nah." He slouched against a moss-covered tree. "I've never really had many friends." He shrugged. "Sure, there were some guys at school I would hang out with and joke about lame stuff with, but there was never really anybody I could really call my friend." His gaze drifted off into space, lost in thought.
You will find a kindred spirit in lightning. That was one of the things Matilda read from the dragon knucklebones. He remembered from a book he had to read in school called Aang of Green Fusuma, where the main character used the term "a kindred spirit" a lot, and Cole guessed it meant something like "BFF". (He didn't read very much of the book, and failed his book report.)
A kindred spirit in lightning. Perhaps lightning was a person?
Phillip and Liana didn't look much better; their mud-streaked clothes were torn, dark splotches where the bandits had slashed at them stained their shirts, and their faces were covered in sweat and earth. The horses grazing peacefully didn't look much better...Nor did they smell much better.
Matilda wasted no time in rummaging in her little carpet bag and grabbing medical supplies. Remembering how the bandits were talking about how the bag was empty, Cole figured there was some sort of magic in the bag that could keep a great number of objects inside, yet appear empty when someone who didn't own the bag opened it.
Even though the teenagers' wounds throbbed rather painfully and Phillip even complained of feeling light-headed, Matilda insisted on treating the horses first. With her tart instructions she had them use water from the river and foul-smelling soap she had to wash away the clumps of mud on the horses' legs, bellies, torsos, tails, and manes. Then they brushed their fur and manes, and cleaned the mud out from the hooves. The latter was the most difficult for Cole, not only because he had no idea how to do it in the first place, but because he was secretly wary of the horse crushing his toes or smashing his fingers or something.
Phillip was a patient teacher for this bit. He showed Cole how to bend over by the horse's leg, lean against the animal until it lifted its leg, and grab the hoof to scrape the mud and grass out of its foot. Cole could barely see the hoof in the awkward position he was in, let alone clean the mud out. It didn't help his increasing uneasiness when Matilda muttered behind him. "Better not get that bump in the middle, that's the sensitive bit...You'll probably end up with a hoof smashed in your face if you hurt the "frog"."
"Thanks for the helpful advice." Cole groaned under the strain of bending over. "Maybe next time you could--AARRG!"
He didn't get to finish, for Shauntel had stepped on his foot.
Yeah it hurts.
I remember you said something like that on the old MBs. xD
He shrugged. "Sure." While wary of drinking something that may not have from his world, he was curious to see what magic potion tasted like.
She handed him the little bottle, saying. "Just a sip will do. Drink too much, well..." She smiled grimly. "The results aren't pretty."
Pushing away a nagging feeling of uneasiness, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. The bright red liquid was cold, yet burned down his throat, and he gagged. The taste was tart, and yet had a sweet touch to the mixture. It wasn't a pleasant drink, but it wasn't too bad, either. Though his stomach turned when the stuff hit the natural acid of his body.
"It'll take a few minuets to work." She returned to bandaging Cole's head, and he allowed himself to relax. He closed his eyes and ignored his churning stomach, instead focusing his attention on the sound of birds singing and chattering up in the treetops, while faint afternoon sun fell in warm, soft rays through the canopy of leaves.
Opening his eyes, he said. "Matilda..."
"Mm?"
"Right when you were pricked by that poison...You looked at me and said..." His voice drifted off.
She scowled at him impatiently. "Well?"
He took a deep breath. "...You said that I looked just like my mother."
There was a deathly silence. Matilda's fingers froze in handling the bandages. Phillip gazed warily from where he sat while his sister paused with one hand still in her hair. A couple of birds even fell silent, as if they too felt the tension in the air.
Matilda's response was quiet. "Well...I suppose you resemble your mother somehow, whether though physical features or personal attributes. Everyone has their parents' traits, it's completely normal."
Cole turned around to face her and scowled. "Don't play dumb!" He snapped. "I know you know more than you're willing to admit, now tell the truth! Did you, or did you not know my mom? If so, why keep that little fact to yourself?!"
Matilda obliged somewhat reluctantly, and the teenagers listened quietly. She started out haltingly, but as time elapsed she became more comfortable with talking. Her voice flowed like a river, descriptive and enchanting, and yet at the same time she added in her own remarks or facts, smirking tartly or frowning thoughtfully.
The stories themselves started out meek and mild, telling of humorous situations and jokes, but as she kept talking, she revealed more about the air of suspense in that life. She spoke of war and battles between humans and "mobs", of skirmishes she had against enemy witches and warlocks, of people she met and the places she'd traveled to. Some details she kept vague, as if she didn't want her audience to know certain facts about the life she came from.
With her enchanting descriptions of heart-pounding adventures mixed with sarcastic remarks about whatnot, the hours passed quickly. The afternoon became evening, and the sun sank behind the trees, casting the clearing in orange shadows.
"...So there I was, creeping down the corridor, keeping my footsteps soft and light. I could hear a man screaming; they were torturing him. He was crying for mercy...The sound was haunting. I peered around a wall, and saw that they had him strapped to a table, using spells of--" Matilda suddenly stopped, and blinked her eyes like a perplexed owl. She gazed at the line of trees surrounding them. "Corpus bones!" She cursed. "It's nearly sundown...Hsst, we should have left hours ago! I wanted to reach the cliffsides by this time!"
"Don't stop now!" Phillip protested. "What happened then?! Were the other wizards there?? Did you fight them??"
"Start a fire while I cook dinner, and then I'll finish the story." She retorted. The teens groaned, but reluctantly stood up.
"We'll camp here for the night, then move on tomorrow." Matilda said to herself.
This was how they spent the evening, forgetting danger for one night and listening to stories.
Running. Cole was running. He was racing down a dark corridor. Old wood flashed by his vision.
His heart was pounding viciously in his chest. His breath came in uneven gasps.
I have to get out, I have to get out!!
Why was he running? Something was behind him. Something was in the building. Something was in the walls. Something was in the air. There was something there...Something dark.
It was dark. There was a presence. There was a dark presence. No, not dark...evil. It was evil. It wanted something. The evil wanted something. It wanted...
...Him.
Cole was clutching a scroll. He had to get out, he had to get out. He ran. He wasn't running for his life. No...He was running for his soul.
He never truly knew the meaning of evil...It was a such a mixed-up word. What was evil? Was it bad things happening? Was it a presence? What was evil? Was this evil?
Have to get, I have to get out...
Fear. Fear clogged his throat. He was never so scared. Why was he scared? It was evil...It was an evil place. Dark creatures roamed these walls.
Where's the bricking door?! I need to get out, I need to get out of here...!
The presence pursued him. It chased him down the hall. Cole felt its presence behind him. It wanted him. The evil wanted him.
I can't smash like this...!
A voice hissed. It was a terrible voice, haunting and unearthly. It echoed in his ears until he wanted to clamp his hands over his head to shut it out.
"As iron sharpens iron, sensei sharpens student..."
I have to get out, I have to get out!
The evil reached for him. Cole ran, ran like he never had before.
Get out, get out, get out, get out!!
"As iron sharpens iron, sensei sharpens student..."
The evil clawed its way into his body. Cole was helpless to drive it out. He ran. The ice entered his body. He didn't have a Spirit to protect him. He was alone. Alone with the evil.
Running. Cole was running. He was racing down a dark corridor. Old wood flashed by his vision.
His heart was pounding viciously in his chest. His breath came in uneven gasps.
I have to get out, I have to get out!!
Why was he running? Something was behind him. Something was in the building. Something was in the walls. Something was in the air. There was something there...Something dark.
It was dark. There was a presence. There was a dark presence. No, not dark...evil. It was evil. It wanted something. The evil wanted something. It wanted...
...Him.
Cole was clutching a scroll. He had to get out, he had to get out. He ran. He wasn't running for his life. No...He was running for his soul.
He never truly knew the meaning of evil...It was a such a mixed-up word. What was evil? Was it bad things happening? Was it a presence? What was evil? Was this evil?
Have to get, I have to get out...
Fear. Fear clogged his throat. He was never so scared. Why was he scared? It was evil...It was an evil place. Dark creatures roamed these walls.
Where's the bricking door?! I need to get out, I need to get out of here...!
The presence pursued him. It chased him down the hall. Cole felt its presence behind him. It wanted him. The evil wanted him.
I can't smash like this...!
A voice hissed. It was a terrible voice, haunting and unearthly. It echoed in his ears until he wanted to clamp his hands over his head to shut it out.
"As iron sharpens iron, sensei sharpens student..."
I have to get out, I have to get out!
The evil reached for him. Cole ran, ran like he never had before.
Get out, get out, get out, get out!!
"As iron sharpens iron, sensei sharpens student..."
The evil clawed its way into his body. Cole was helpless to drive it out. He ran. The ice entered his body. He didn't have a Spirit to protect him. He was alone. Alone with the evil.
The evil grabbed his soul and pulled.
No..!
Great StarClan, that is an unsettling chapter! So good but creepy, it's written in such a way that you feel like you in it with him. Very nice! Can't wait for more!
There was no Spirit to save him. He was prey. He was prey to the evil. He was alone with the evil.
It caught him.
No...Please..!
There was a twisting, pulling sensation. Something was ripped from his body.
His blood turned to ice.
His heart stopped beating.
His brain fell silent.
A silent gasp left his lips.
His body fell limp behind him. It went cold. It fell to the floor. It fell with an ugly thud.
"As iron sharpens iron, sensei sharpens student..."
That terrible voice rang again.
His body was gone. He had no body.
Only his soul remained. He had no body. It was gone.
He was alone.
Alone.
Alone....
And yet he ran.
The evil reached for him again. It wanted his soul. It wanted him.
He was alone with the evil...Alone with the curse....
Alone....
Cole woke up with a shuddering gasp and shot up into a sitting position. His heart was pounding. His torso was drenched in sweat. His throat was clogged with fear.
He was sitting up on the blanket he was sleeping on. The trees were dark silhouettes, surrounding the little clearing like silent guards. The moon cast silver shadows drifting into the forest. His companions slept peacefully, unaware of the boy gasping for breath and shivering. The mountain was still. The forest was serene.
And yet he was scared.
He tried to calm down. It was just a dream, you ding dong. He rebuked himself. Just a nightmare...Just a nightmare.
He put his head into his hands. He never had a nightmare like that before. He probably just ate too much bulgogi.
Strange...He couldn't recall ever having a nightmare where he had the ability to run. Always before, with normal, weird and obscure nightmares, his legs were like stone, or he moved as if he was moving in water. This was the first nightmare he had where he had the ability to run as fast as he wanted to.
I'm being such a wimp. He was frustrated with himself for feeling so scared. He wasn't a toddler, it was just a dumb dream!
![[y]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/WYWPH2VRo26pOFDid7QZ.png)
Potato. 
