Night in the Woods

Distant howls and the rustling of small animals in the underbrush were sounds Lucian was accustomed to. But with daylight rapidly fading, the atmosphere their movement created was still unsettling.

He stayed out of trouble by using his Echo spell like a sonar, pausing every few minutes to make sure nothing was approaching… or following. A preemptive strike was usually enough to scare off anything that still managed to track him through his evasive maneuvers.

This time, however, was different. The pulsating agony from the wound in his leg gnawed at him, disrupting his concentration and draining him more than usual. On other trips, he would push on even after sundown, letting Echo guide him through the dark. But now the weight of his mental baggage, his injury, his fatigue, and the realization that Amon had carried off most of their provisions finally broke him.

Calling it a day, the small fire he managed to light was his only beacon of happiness this far into the wilderness.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered, collapsing back in exhaustion.
"I wasn’t going to become their hero or their protector. But I wasn’t going to become a murderer either."

Nibbling on a strip of dried Volpa meat, his thoughts drifted to Byakko. "Is this how you felt about us? Strong enough to save others, but too prideful to do it on their terms? Were there times when you thought of abandoning us as well?"

His mood soured even more thinking about it. Even with all the mysteries surrounding Byakko and his sudden disappearance, abandoning them would never have crossed his mind while he was there.

How could such a conceited beast be more righteous than he was?

Anger welled up inside him. Gritting his teeth, he snapped. Leaping to his feet, he began hurling magic in all directions. Small trees were shredded to pieces. Fire clung to damp bark, gnawing through its defenses in desperation. Critters fled in a frantic storm of wings and squawks. When even the earth began shaking, he fell to the ground, breathless and aching.

Hunched over in pain, he pulled back his torn chausses to expose the wound near his ankle. In the flickering campfire light and the fading embers around him, the infection looked worse than ever. That was no ordinary arrow, he finally admitted to himself. The flesh was swollen, its vibrant night-sky colors spreading into the surrounding tissue, as his darkened veins clotted with diseased blood.

Tears blurred his sight as he covered it again. Alone, hungry, and injured, he began questioning every choice that had led him here. His obsession with Lilly. His hatred for Dumas and Barion. Why was this happening to him? He had memories of his old life, yet none could explain why he’d been brought to this place.

A twig snapped. He spun toward the sound, heart pounding.

Just outside the fire’s glow, Amon appeared.

"What are you doing here?" Lucian grumbled, hiding his relief beneath a bruised ego.

Amon tossed a supply sack at his feet. "You forgot these," he said without emotion, before lowering himself across the fire.

"What about the flood? Too afraid to face the hordes?" He couldn’t resist the jab. Amon was the one who’d left first, after all.

Amon was silent for a moment, unbothered by the taunt. When he spoke, his words cut straight to the point.
"You were going to let Calviro die. Why?"

Lucian looked away. "Because they deserv—" The word caught in his throat. He couldn’t finish the sentence. Neither could he blame Calviro, the Wavebreakers, or even Cacela.
"I don’t know… I was just so angry."

...
The silence was short but loud, until Lucian decided to level with Amon.

"My home is… deep in the Wildlands. I had a father and a sister there. One day the people of Cacela came. They burned everything and only took me. I’ve been trying to get back ever since. Instead of helping, they stopped me. Hale, the Wavebreakers… even Barion wouldn’t help me reunite.

When I saw Calviro pinned to the ground I thought… maybe if they felt the same loss I did, they’d finally understand. That they’d wake up and help me."

"Do you really think that would have worked?" Amon’s voice held no hatred.

Lucian’s throat tightened. "No. It was the wrong thing to do. But every day, the thought that Lilly might not even be out there anymore is tearing at me." He locked eyes with him, pleading. "Please, Amon. Help me get there. We’re both strong, and with the flood coming the Monster Belt is—"

Amon raised a hand, cutting him off. "This was never a scouting mission to begin with, right?"
This time there was a hint of emotion hidden deep beneath those words.
"We are strong, that’s true. But why would I follow a liar who would trade his brothers’ lives to chase a ghost?"

Lucian swallowed hard. There was no answer that didn’t demand trust, and worse, Amon seemed to be onto him. If he doubled down on his lies now, who knew what this hunk of muscle might do? Feeling the isolation, the forest felt dangerous suddenly. If something happened, no amount of screaming would save him.
"Then why follow me at all, if you never planned on helping?" he deflected.

Amon scratched his shoulder, relaxing as his mind wandered. "Because I’m like you. I’m a deserter. A deserter that misses his home. A deserter who will never see it again."

This revelation caught both off guard as they sat in silence, the steady crackle of the fire the only thing at ease.

Lucian spoke first. "If you miss it so much, why did you leave? Why follow a stranger into the woods, just because he reminds you of it a little?"

Amon chuckled. "Because we’re both cowards. Strong cowards maybe, but cowards all the same. If you can find your way home, then maybe… I can find mine too."

For the first time that night, Lucian smiled. The blunt honesty of this brick wall almost hurt, but the truth resonated with him. "Alright. Let’s make it official. You help me reach my home, and I’ll help you reach yours in return."

He tossed Amon a piece of dried meat to seal the pact. Amon didn’t eat it, but tossed back a waterskin as his unspoken answer.

They spoke a little longer, until exhaustion dragged Lucian under.

He woke to Amon’s boot nudging his ribs.
"Get up, Lucian."

He felt miserable. His clothes clung to him like sap, his face burned, and his eyes felt rusted shut.

Getting his bearings, Amon filled him in.
"Ready yourself. We’re surrounded."