Shadow Puppets

Dray ran.

Rough brick scraped his palms as he leapt the wall, a shout hunting him. He hit the ground, rolling onto a quiet walkway winding under eaves hung with vines, and—

A hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him off.

"Shihk—" He'd ripped out of its grip, stumbling onto a ledge, before he realised that was Stov, nearly teetering straight off to fall into the narrow gap.

"It's me, idiot." Stov grabbed him again and pulled him into jumping over instead of falling in, hopping from plant-box to plant-box down for street level. "Get your ass moving."

"Where in Hahll were you—?" He stumbled on the pavement at the bottom, the drop further than he'd thought. A flicker of pain shot through his middle, something popping. Niff. Stitches?

"Less talking. More running."

As much as he wanted to argue— A thud on the walkway above sent ice shooting through his veins, and he dashed after Stov. The pain wasn't bad. Hopefully nothing.

Twisting around dim corners, bulldozing past growths crawling in nooks, they made it onto one of the understreets, morning traffic walking or biking past open shops and bread windows.

Stov plucked some straggly glowing stems from the side and shoved them at him unceremoniously. "Rub it into your wrists and neck."

"...Okay?" He did as he was told, still puffing, grimacing at a persistent itch on both sides of his jaw and under his thumbs. There weren't any red marks, but it felt like a bug bite, and the nose-freeze wasn't helping. "You're not bothering?"

Stov strode ahead, not even looking at the stuff. "Why in Hahll were you talking to a jrahking hunter?"

"He was talking to me, Mum. And I’m not the one who niffing vanished." Dray tossed the stems away, rubbing irritably at his jaw. "Think I'm getting a rash."

"No, that's the scent glands. Don't scratch it."

He barely heard anything after “scent glands”, his hand twitching away. Since when—? What? But I shouldn’t.... “Scent glands?”

“Yeah.” Stov didn't turn.

Dray followed him into an echoing tunnel cutting through a highrise, searching for something, anything, in the rigid line of Stov’s shoulders. “Tell me this is a first-stage thing.”

“Not exactly.”

Dray's jaw tightened, his feet planting in the road, a couple of strollers flicking glances at him. Stov, though, still wasn’t looking at him; still wasn’t telling him something. And that something was pretty niffing obvious. “You heard him talking.”

Stov twitched. And that was enough. Dray frowned at his back, his hands curling into loose fists. “How much did you hear?”

How much did you see?

Uneasiness slid around in his gut. Had he seen the whole thing?

Stov stopped and exhaled, looking over his shoulder to meet Dray's eyes. “I just heard him trying to get you to go with him. I hoped I was wrong, but I guess I’m not.”

He resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “Stov. Whatever in Hahll you’re trying to say, spit it out.”

Stov just moved on again. “It starts around second. This isn't a great place to talk about this, by the way."

He was right, but... shihk. Second stage? It'd barely been over a day. He'd barely— It shouldn't—

"We need to keep moving." Stov glancing over his shoulder snapped Dray back out of the dizzying dread. "Shihk, he's made it onto the street."

He threw a quick look back, spotting a leather jacket, sandy hair— "Dammit."

They ducked down a narrower tunnel, vines spilling out of the walls, thorns catching at his own jacket and reaching for the side of his neck. Unfriendly eyes followed him from recessed nooks as he quietly covered the dull throb, their stares prickling at the back of his head. None of them would know. They didn't know.

But still....

Some teen got bit and broke out of the hospital.

They’ve got enough details, Dray....

He swallowed, glancing back over his shoulder, half-expecting a lanky shadow to stretch around the bend, lit by the overgrown lamps in the walls. Everyone knows.

Everyone would be watching, wondering who....

"Eh ehtah, careful, boys. In a rush, hm?"

Dray twitched away as he nearly slammed into someone. An older lady with sharp brown eyes, neat grey hair held back by a clip.

"Raiteh-master?" He froze. His arithmetic coursemaster, who taught the group he shared with Ranz, that he should’ve been in today if he wasn’t— "What’re you doing here?"

"Draykan? What in Ley's name are you doing out here so early in the morning?" She frowned at him. "Light, boy, you look deathly pale. You should be back at home, letting your parents coddle you."

"Hey, it's not that early." He tried to smile, seeking help from a stiff Stov. "Just wanted to get something, that's all."

Frowning, she shook her finger at his friend. "Just what are you dragging him into this time? Let the poor boy rest."

"It was my idea," Dray said quickly before Stov could. "We just went to get a present for my little sister that I left at someone else's house. Mum and Dad didn't want me going by myself."

"And so they let you go with Stovan. Wouldn't be the first choice, myself."

Stov stuffed his hands into his pockets under her judging eyebrow. "I replaced your damn vase wars ago, old lady."

"Clearly you didn't manage to replace the sense you lost as well."

Dray forced a laugh, glancing over his shoulder. Unreadable faces watched, shadows flickering around the corner. "We should keep going. Need to make it quick."

He moved to sidle around her with a cheery wave.

His legs wobbled dangerously, instead, as pain stabbed across his middle. Her hands caught at his shoulders, and he bit his tongue to hold back a hiss as the side of his neck abruptly lit up like fireworks. Like she'd stabbed a knife into it.

She said something to Stov as he tried to catch his breath. The stitches? Dammit, they hadn't hurt just before— nhh. A soft sound grated in the back of his throat at a cool hand touching his forehead, and ice bolted through him as it came out— it wasn't quite— maybe it was just his imagination but—

Felt like he was gonna be sick. Shihk, felt like he was gonna throw up in the street right here, right now; probably get carted off by his arithmetic-master and end up back in the hospital, in the yard—

A hand tugged at him, yanking him away, saying something about being okay by themselves, and he fought to straighten. "S-sorry Raiteh-master. Have... have a great day. 'Ll be okay."

Her concerned eyes made him wince. Something... there was something in her face, too. Something wary. "Take care of yourself, Draykan. Don't neglect your coursework."

Coursework. Hah.... He let Stov drag him away with a vague wave, trying to smile, trying not to see suspicion shadowing her eyes.

If everyone had been watching him before, their stares drilled into him now. He kept his head down, trying not to stumble like someone with a fatal gut wound, fighting back bile or... or something else pushing up his throat, and reeling down some dark and dingy alley Stov pushed him into.

Convenient bin. Just in case. He collapsed next to it and swallowed convulsively, rasping for breath.

"You okay?"

Maybe it wasn't just the stitches tearing and the snarling throb in his shoulder making him tremble like this. Maybe it was the ugly thought that he never would go back to Raiteh's or any other courses and second-stage second-stage second-stage bouncing around in his skull to the tune of "you won't make it past Dragon's Crown, pup", and a click-rumble calling to him, a click that shouldn't have— and he—

Can't do this can't do this shihk I—

“Stov.”

Eyes watched him, but Stov didn’t speak.

Dray swallowed and dragged in a shuddering breath. “I.... What if I....”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he hunched a little tighter. He could've thought it was just the thyre messing with him, exaggerating things, if it wasn't for everything else. Even Stov saw signs. And he felt....

“He said I’d get to see everyone if I went with him, Stov.” Dray dragged his head up, meeting his eyes, a maddening itch twisting in his core. “I’d be close to Uncle Ment. I could stay here. Maybe not at home, and I’d never get to check into courses again, but it’s not like I can do that now. I could... maybe it’d be better.”

Stov stared at him. “You’re not seriously considering it.”

“I.... Nothing’s the same. It’ll never be the same. I’m...” he tried to breathe “...I’m becoming a thyre. I’ll never be the same again. Maybe it’s just better to... let it happen.”

“Sluhk that." Stov’s mouth drew into a thin line, his eyes narrowing to burning slits as he crouched down and stabbed his finger right in Dray’s chest, making him twitch. "You don’t know the force. You don’t know the kind of kritzed shihk everyone in those shiny offices pull. You go with him, and they’ll tear you away. They’ll put you straight in the yard with every other cagebird, and you’ll never see anyone again. He’s a hunter, Dray. Unless they let you be a hunter at jrahking fifteen, you won’t be staying with him, and you sure as Hahll won’t be staying with good old force officer Uncle Ment.”

Dray gritted his teeth, swiping Stov’s hand away and leaning back, biting off a pained grunt as everything flared. “Ngh. I’d... be part of his kinmit. They can’t just split up kinmit members.”

The laugh Stov barked caught him off guard. “Sure. The force cares about keeping people together. Don’t know if you noticed, Dray, but they’re not going to hesitate to split you up from your family. You think they care about therrolf bonds? They have an excuse to treat you like an animal, and they will.”

“Uncle Ment wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t let them.”

“He’s a handler. He hasn’t got a choice.” The intensity of Stov’s stare cut right through him. “You’re letting those thyre instincts coming in fold you over. You know as well as I do how much they care about people who don’t fit in their perfect utopia.”

He twitched, hand automatically going to his shoulder. It wasn’t— “I’m not thinking about it because of some feeling—”

“Really?” Stov jerked his chin at him. “You take a good look at yourself and tell me that with a straight face. That you’d even think about leaving Atia and Erold. Because the Dray I know wouldn’t say that.”

His protests choked in his throat, shrivelling on his tongue. Kneeling there with his hand clenching the crook of his shoulder, the other twitching into a fist against his stomach, something dark and jagged and desperate twisting behind his ribcage making an irrational part of him want to curl in and snarl, all his denials dried up.

No, he didn’t want to leave everyone, but he might not have a choice. It was rational, wasn’t it? Or was that the miasma seeping through his soul, turning him into something else? And if it was, would he be able to tell? How would he be able to tell with his entire soul being overwritten?

Taking in a ragged breath, Dray forced his hand away from his shoulder, dragging it through his hair. “Then tell me how I’m supposed to do this.”

Stov locked eyes with him. “You keep fighting. And if you give up like the folded drelf you’re trying to be, I’ll come to the yard and break your idiot ass out again.”

He twitched a humourless smile. “Yeah, you would.”

Stov slapped his shoulder. “’Course I would. Come on.”

Reluctantly letting Stov drag him up to his feet, Dray winced as he followed him. “You love me too much to let me go.”

“Don’t push it.”

“If I had diarrhoea and I called you, you’d bring me toilet paper.”

Stov threw a rude gesture over his shoulder, and a small smile flitted across Dray’s face. Snorting softly, he plodded after him through underways overgrown with vines, the smile dying. Just like this place, he was getting overgrown. No matter what they did, he wouldn't be the same, with them or not, fighting or not.

He couldn’t tell what would be the best path to take. What was him, and what wasn’t.

Closing his eyes, he just wished none of this had happened in the first place.