//------------------------------// // Chapter I: The Bridgefall Wastes, and the things you'll find there // Story: Pump Fiction // by NetherWalker //------------------------------// Alan felt awful, though it was not a kind of pain he recognized, it spread and spiraled throughout his body in a surreal fashion. His muscles tingled and his hands felt frozen and limp. Oh crap... he thought, feeling guilt flush past his grogginess. I needed to help Mr. Schrumer today. His water heater, all busted, and I was supposed to take a look at it. I can't afford to... He struggled to rise, though he felt so much lighter than he usually did, it sent odd tingling shivers up and down every limb and nerve. His eyes shot open as the sensation made him grunt, making him unwilling to move till it passed. What am I talking about? I can't very well move, much less do a job. I should focus on fearing for my life right now! This isn't a normal morning quirk, kick yourself into gear Alan. Though with the snow falling around him, he doubted he really needed worry much anything, hypothermia would probably set in before long, so he'd just go back to sleep an' wake up at home... Hold on now... snow? So much for that sleep bit. Panic gripped him before he'd even the chance to produce another thought. Pushing through the almost overpowering sensations, he attempted to rise to his feet, disturbing the small layer of snow that had settled over him. He got his arms straight before he had to submit. Bending his limbs and letting out another grunt, he realized that his ears felt stuffed, every sound he made was muffled, he had to hope desperately that it wasn't permanent. As he made to speak however, his voice cracked horribly, it felt so wrong. Now that he thought about it, it seemed that everything felt a little off, of what he could feel anyways... But it didn't matter, if he was the only thing that had mattered in the situation, he didn't know if he would have had the will to push on, instead of simply submitting to the cold and tired weakness. He had to call for her, search for her, she was all that mattered right now. His daughter. "Ella!" He called, again and again, unsure of he was even loud enough to be heard a few feet away. But he continued. "Ella! Can you hear me!?" his heart beating faster and faster, as he pushed away the sensations, and getting on all fours, crawled up the frozen snowbank. He lost his grip a couple times while his still foggy brain tried to, all at once, keep the sensations away and ponder his sudden lightness, amongst other curiosities, both frighting and benign in implication. He felt as if forty pounds of him was missing, laying around somewhere in this frozen waste to be a grizzly prize for some wayward bear. ... Morbid, Chimed in the part of his brain that still didn't seem to truly understand the level of (excuse his French) deep shit he was in. Though it was certainly a, justifiably, morbid thought, it was not as disturbing, or as unwarranted, as the dangers his mind put his daughter through that pushed him forward out of fear. "Ella!" He shouted again, as he finally managed to get a limb up over the bank, though his light headedness forced him to tuck his head and close his eyes, else he tumble back down. So, as he slid himself over the snowbank, he kept his eyes squeezed shut. He feared what he'd find, or not find, hoping beyond all hopes to find Ella standing there unharmed and dressed head to toe in fluffy winter ware. He took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of his lungs for his daughter, only stopping once his already strained vocal cords reached their absolute limit. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, regaining his courage alongside his breath. Finally, they opened, and his heart sank, he saw no Ella, just snow that seemed to stretch on forever. Though he saw no sight of her, he forced himself to rise again, the alien feeling still clinging to his muscles and making his stomach feel hollow. He noticed, as he stood, his sight blurring, and again closed his eyes. This won't stop me, he thought, she has to be around here, she has to! He lifted his head up, now fully convinced that she'd be right around the next corner, she had to! He already lost too much, he couldn't lose anymore! Alan heaved himself up to all fours, panting and moaning as his muscles shook, the feel of it nearly unbearable. He trudged forward like that, arm after leg, leg after arm, everything felt so wrong, like someone had scrambled his insides and broken all his bones. His feet felt the same as his hands, cold and limp, and resting at odds with the ground. It should have been painful, which worried him more than the pain would have. But he continued. Finally lifting his head and opening his eyes. The blurriness he'd experienced before dissipated, but he began to worry that his vision was skewed, it looked almost like he was back where he began, the snow rose into a bank just a few feet ahead. No, wait, His eyes widened, and he kept them wide, despite the wind that stung them. Though it was hard to be sure it appeared as though the bank was much farther than it seemed, A few hundred yards at least he thought, trying his hardest to make it out accurately. He took a couple steps forward, only to trip on something, sending his spasming muscles out in all directions. He would soon come to recognize this as the second worst fall of his life. He first twisted his right arm beneath him, yelping as the pain lanced all the way up to his shoulder. Then, His ears popped so painfully it almost felt as if someone had taken a vice to his skull, just as his chin slammed into the ground with his tongue between his teeth. For nearly a second, he laid there, the pain of it all rushing in all at once, and he screamed. Sounded just like a woman to his recovering ears. As he quickly twisted himself to remove pressure from his injured arm, muttering curses the whole way in a broken little voice, he noticed the cause of his unfortunate tumble. A limb. He reeled back with as much speed as he could manage without hurting himself further, looking up at a cloud covered sky in an effort not to look at it. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," He muttered, so quite he barely heard himself, "Don't let it be her, please, God." His entire body shaking with trepidation, he just couldn't look. He felt his stomach twist, just the thought of what he might find finally getting to his nerves. Though at the same time, he knew he had to look, his resistance only served to agitate him further. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, he thought, forcing his head down, But I can't afford not to look... No, This whole situation is just too... I don't know, I'm just barely holding on. I'm not thinking straight. Alan slowly began to think, really think about his situation. His tired mind working as hard as it could to piece together the narrative of this frighteningly impossible morning, all the while his head slowly lowering. He could remember his day before, a hard day of work. He could remember his morning, waking Ella for school, sending her off with a kiss and a hug. He could remember his jobs, helping a friend of a friend with his electricity, cleaning out his Uncle's trash compactor of a garage, trouble shooting with Old Gale and her bipolar AC unit. Then, he returned to an empty house, and started up his PC. Ella soon returned from her friend's house, that often being her first stop after school. He asked her how her day had been, she blew him off, she had obviously been upset. He tried to ask her about it, but all she gave him was a swift apology and some nonsense about how she was fine, a very poorly veiled attempt at dissuading him from asking more, though it worked. He'd left her to her own devices, hoping to guess the cause before confronting her again. After that, he believed he'd gone to bed, but he wasn't sure. Suddenly, a violent and frigid gale ripped through snow, forcing his eyes shut. He sat like that for only a moment, flinching at the absurd winds that threatened to lift him off his feet, but as quick as it came, it moved on. So, the wind gone, Alan opened his eyes. Though as he looked at the sky, several things in the present stuck out to him. Yesterday had been the 18th of April, on one of the hottest weeks they'd had in years. The wind bit like he was in the arctic. So he wasn't anywhere near home, let alone still in the country, where on Earth was he? ... Or... It appeared as though it was sunset, as the bright light in the sky seemed to set rapidly from what he guessed was the west. So, he'd likely been moved while under sedation, how far had he been taken, and by whom? ... Or Maybe... Wait... Earth only has one moon. Or maybe I'm not on Earth anymore. As his mind reorientated itself, his eyes watering in the light, the four bright spheres stared back down, as if defiantly daring him to question their place. The clouds had receded, how such a thick cover had so quickly retreated, ludicrus winds or no, he hadn't a clue, but there were bigger things to wonder after, much bigger. The largest moon seemed so gargantuan compared to the others, taking up a sizable portion of the sky with its bulk and glow, whilst the others, varying in size and color seemed to dance across it's surface, too close for plausibility sake, No way. Alan didn't know how to react, how to move in sight of this revelation. It filled his stomach with a horrid unease, but his heart with a yearning to run, to explore this new world and let his eyes be the first to see it before anyone. In the midst of it all, his addled brain had nearly forgotten the worries of the moments before. Nearly. The groaning and hacking from below brought him back down. He seized up again, taking a second before simply just forcing himself to look below. All distractions fled his clouded mind as he pushed all his attention onto the limp limb below... And the... purple unicorn attached to it? Okay, this has to just be a dream! He thought, his wide eyes observing the creature's slender form with disbelief and shocked scrutiny, how could this not be a hallucination. It has wings too?! The creature appeared to be injured, its wings bent at an angle Alan thought couldn't be natural, even for this... Thing. He eyed the numerous lacerations and bruises that crisscrossed its form, now feeling terrible about tripping on its leg, hating that he may have caused the poor thing anymore pain. Though he certainly felt more glad he had not stumbled across Ella in such a condition, he was still frightened for her, even if this was a hallucination, it pained him not to have her near. Poor animal probably doesn't even know what happened- He swallowed that thought as soon as he looked into the eyes of the fallen creature, for it most certainly did. Its eyes, while filled with fear, were nowhere near animalistic. In fact, they seemed to glow with a sensitive intelligence that Alan had thought restricted to art. Its eyes seemed too surreal to exist, but there they were, starring right into his. He didn't quite know how to describe it besides a torturing realization. He was watching this creature, one likely just as aware as him, die. The expressiveness in its eyes was all too telling, a paralyzing fear marred its features. God. For the first time, he spoke loud enough for him to really hear. "Hold-" His words were caught in his throat as soon as he noticed the drastic change in his voice. It sounded so... Feminine. Disturbingly so. He brought his hand near his throat, but quickly put it back down. He shook his head and again looked at the little creature beneath him. "H-hold on." He said, stuttering. Was that really his voice? "I-I'll find... h-help." He didn't know if it understood him, feeling more a fool with every word he pushed out. He hoped his tone projected the care he was aiming for, instead of the fear and uncertainty he was feeling. Lord above, I'm talking to a horse. He, of course, never expected her to respond. "N-no." She wheezed, as Alan's already wide eyes threatened to pop out of his skull, "Don't leave, w-we're both wounded, the Hydrus will be back soon with my saddlebags-" She coughed, spitting small drops of blood across the snow, "I have medical supplies, and by the looks of it, you need the attention far more than I do." He didn't bother asking questions, instead he decided to settle for a startled expression of confusion. The same expression the (presumably) young mare shot right back at him. "How are y-you even standing?" She asked, voice thick with worry. Alan's heart quickened, the beat seeming to hitch on his fear, despite not believing himself to be uninjured. Regardless, even his breathing sped up, cold air burning his lungs. Alan groaned, how could he move this forward? Everything felt stalled, he knew his mind wasn't functioning at peak performance, but still, he was getting so sidetracked. He was mentally stuck, not knowing what question to pursue, the little creature had brought so many to an already burdened table. Thankfully, the mare brought him back to focus. "Please, lay down... you're not in any condition to stand." She said with concern, but Alan remained standing, staring at the unicorn's own wounds, Sheesh, all I have is a hyper-extended arm or something, you seem to have it much worse than me, He thought. Though as he continued to examine her wounds, his own body seemed to become aware of far more than just a twisted limb. A searing hot pain made itself known, starting at the bridge of his nose, moving to his right eye, then streaking all the way down to his rear, painfully spreading in spikes along his skin and insides. A frigid sense of dread settled over him, spreading up his limbs and into his core. Fear gripped him as he was again forced onto the ground. He again felt lightheaded, but this time it felt painful, and metallic taste filled his mouth. His vision tunneled, and his breath quickened. What was this? Was he only able to stand before on adrenaline? Was he going to die like this? Forgotten on some alien world? Or maybe he was drugged out in some weirdo's basement being slowly tortured to death? Maybe... he was already dead? "Oh, by Celestia's mane, lay down!" A purple glow tinged the edge of his vision, and with an unnatural force, he felt himself pushed to his side. His heart began to sputter, and his lungs spasmed, but the horror only lasted a few seconds as he regained control of himself. He was facing her now, as he laid, his eyes lining up with her's as she lit her horn once again. Alan flinched and shut tight his eyes, but the Unicorn put no more pressure on him, and when he was confident enough, he opened them once again. "Stay... Calm, I'll heal you," She huffed, "You may... Feel some pressure in your... Um, Everywhere. Nothing more than a soft pinch... I... Promise." Her eyelids slowly slipped, becoming lidded, sleepy. She said a few unintelligible words under her breath, the power of it shooting through Alan's veins like lightning. Then came the tingling again, but this time, it felt like... More, like the cold had worn his nerves and only now they could truly feel. His body began to mend, and though he felt... wrong, it was less pain and more the knowledge that what he was feeling wasn't right. Skin and the flesh beneath regrew and was resown. The fibers and fabrics of his body twisting back into shape on their own accord. Except, no, not of their own, But of her's. It was magic, power given will. At the sight of it, all Alan could do was stare at the caster. Her human-like eyes finally shut fully, and his flesh ceased its mending. For just a moment, he lay there, the wind biting at his new, tender skin. His mind was clear now however, all the weight, the shocked state, gone. He still had his fears, his confusion, but for now, his mind was free from fatigue, and his body from pain. Though... was it even his body? He could feel it now, the strange alien sensation that forced him to consider himself. He felt naked, but not cold. The sensation of unkempt, thick hair whipped by the wind ripped across his skin, a layer of himself he had previously been unaware of. His jaw felt long, misshapen, narrow. His mouth was smaller, more delicate, with thinner lips. To his horror, he couldn't draw any form of sense from his fingers, hands, toes, or feet. Ankles were all he could feel, though they seemed tied to bricks, hard, heavy and unwieldy appendages that capped off each of his limbs, be they arm or leg. From this, his mind made the obvious conclusions, a coat of fur, a snout, hooves. He had only to look with his own eyes, as he slowly lifted his neck, now long and thick, he twisted it. Again, slowly. Jerking back when he saw, through the corner of his eye, a light blue where his pale pinkish skin should be. God, could I stretch this out any longer? He thought, It'll be worse if you wait! Just look, and get it over with. So, he shook off his apprehension and steeled his resolve. Though perhaps it was a horrible mistake, and be sure to note that he hoped he would never get the chance to find out, he once more turned his head. He was... blue. A light blue, an icy blue. It was fur, as he had thought, like the unicorn's, but shaggier, thicker. All along his right side, a angry red scar cut through the fur like a canyon, twisting jaggedly all the way up under his eyes, and from what he could feel, up his neck, under his eye, and over his nose, as it burned, sensitive to the cold. Blood, brighter than he though it should have been, ran in gaunt streaks down his coat to the snow, staining it a rosy red. It made his stomach churn. Though, probably the worst of it all, he couldn't feel... it What has she done to me? Were the words that came first to him. Seeped in the mix of feelings, he needed some answers. He didn't just get flung from his planet, gored, healed, then turned into a cartoon horse all within what felt like half an hour, for no reason. Someone, or something, had to be responsible, and suspect number one was lying a mere seven inches ahead. Her gentle breathing seemed an insult. Now is not the time for this! He thought, I'm not going to get anything from her if she dies out in the cold, I have to act. So, that is exactly what he did. Slowly standing, he made his way over to the crumpled pegacorn, or whatever she was, and considered how best to keep them both alive, difficult as that was... Considering his cercumstance. He remembered a documentary about Inuits, and how they survived the cold, specifically, how they built igloos. It seemed a little ridiculous, especially for someone whom had never even tried and was currently handicapped without tools or hands. Not to mention that even if he could make one, the little unicorn didn't have the thick, insulating fur he... now had. He couldn't imagine the igloo could bring the temperature above freezing (for obvious reasons), but he'd do it anyways, it working couldn't be anymore absurd than the current situation. So, he dug, and dug, packing what little loose snow he could into uneven, misshapen walls around the crater's edge, luckily, most of the snow there seemed fresh and unsettled. So it was easier than he'd though it'd be, but its still took long enough for his bloodied side to freeze. And at the end of it, he could barely feel a change, it was there, the temperature rose slowly as the cold air was forced out, but regardless, it remained frigid. Cold enough to keep meat or milk, probably way too cold. His elation and pride at successfully creating the impromptu shelter was broken up swiftly by the chattering of teeth. So, slowly, he settled the creature into the center of the construction, trying to wrap himself around her in an effort to keep her warm, and he supposed it worked, she stopped trembling so much at least. He hadn't worked with horses too long, but the one time he had, it had been mid-winter. He hadn't thought of them as so... weak to the cold. He happily set those thoughts aside for the time being, he was quite tired himself, so he made to join miss mystery mage in slumber, closing his eyes and trying not to strain himself too hard with arrant thoughts and violent emotions. Unfortunately, despite managing to force himself into snoozing, it wasn't restful or long lasted. While the stars still hung in the air, and no light could be seen on the horizon, something scampered over the heads of Alan and the Unicorn. Alas, the roof of the poorly constructed igloo was not scamper proof, the creature found that out the hard way. Its shrill, squeaky cry and the falling debris slammed into the slumbering man’s head, sending it ringing like the chimes of a church bell. His neck shot up immediately, dragging a tired head with it, eventually forcing a cautious, frightened stare out of his weary eyes. The kicked up snow that swirled around the center of the igloo didn’t seem to indicate a particularly large... thing had fallen through, but regardless, something had. Small as it may actually be, Alan wasn't about to take a chance on size being an accurate scale by which to measure danger, alien world and all, so the eyes stayed glued to the pile. Tense moments passed, as the creature beneath stirred. Muffled squeaks and curses wiggling their way into Alan's ears. Wait, curses? And that was just when the cap of the mound forcefully rocketed into the upper atmosphere, leaving a trailing shower of frigid flakes to fall back down and leaving a bewildered Alan to gape after it. He wasn't the only one surprised. "Holy-" Came a stifled swear, unfortunately put to an early rest by a packed ball of snow dislodged from its precarious, roof bound position, landing with a whumph atop the pyramid. Two little grey feet, like the feet of a rabbit, poked out from underneath the sphere, wiggling and scratching at it with catlike claws. Though he honestly didn't want to put his face anywhere near the kicking feet, after about a minute of struggle, it been made clear to him that it wasn't making much progress. So, he slowly pulled the solid snow upward with his teeth, tossing it away. He stared down, for a few moments, ears involuntarily twitching. "Ah, aya scruffy, wouldn't mind getting me out've this pickle?" At which point, in spite of himself, Alan chuckled. He quickly cut it short, but it felt good even if it was just for the moment, because this was just rich. "Oi..." The rodent chirped, "You gunna' help or what?" Alan, for his part, couldn't be bothered to try and take in the little creature with his eyes at the moment, so with hooves and teeth, he scooped what he could off the mound. And after that, lifting the thing by its feet, with what looked like two bags, just about twice its size, strapped to its back. He could feel the muscles between his teeth tense up like steel springs, and the little weasel cleared its throat. "Alright, you can put me down now." It said, with arms crossed and eyes glaring, and while Alan felt like he was being accused of something, perhaps he could understand not wanting to be wedged betwixt another creature's teeth. Especially one fifty times his size. Gently as he could, he set it down, bringing his head back up to give it a passing glance. Though his eyes lingered longer than he meant them to. It resembled a cross between a rabbit and a weasel, with ears like a lynx and a long tapered tail, near wide as the rest of it till the end. Large glowing eyes stared back up at him, thick paws grasped and fidgeted with the strap wrapped round it like a bandoleer, and little facial features twisted up in recognizable displayed of discomfort. Well, he thought, it's official, I've lost the ability to be surprised. "Listen Lady, if you like what you see, just want to let you know before hand, don't swing that way." It commented, face twitching a bit, ready to smile. Alan, meanwhile, was left with that one word, 'Lady' it had said. It echoed through his mind. A consequence of his transformation he'd been trying desperately to avoid. But now he was forced to acknowledge it... the prospect made his skin crawl, he wasn't about to make himself sound crazy or confused, and unfortunately that meant he had to play it straight. But if he ever met the powers that decided it would be a good idea to stick him in this body, hoho, he had some choice words for them. "Um, hello? What's with the thousand yard stare, anybody home?" Accented chirps asked, as a tiny fist came knocking on his skull. He took his eyes up to find the little creature hanging from his hair, fists wrapped tightly around the thick strands, eyes gazing back at him with reserved concern. "Sorry, Just... Trying to figure out what you meant by what you said." Alan replied, hesitant, both at the sound of his own voice, and for the sake of measuring the reaction of the creature currently using his nose as a rappel wall, the blank stare told him what he likely should have already guessed. "Do I sound masculine to you?" It said, rapidly tapping its foot, "And further more-" Was what she was able to get out before more snow toppled from the ceiling, colliding with her once again. Alan bit his tongue, It was all he could do to keep from laughing. "You were saying?" He said, kicking the snow off of her. For her part, the rodent took it with grace, standing tall and announcing clearly: "I hate gravity." Whether it was the sound or the acrid smell that woke her up, Ella didn't know, but neither were good. Her heart felt like a bomb ready to explode, so frightened it caused physical pain. Her hands tightly clutched her covers, shaking with with the rest of her in spasms of fear and anxiety, sitting stark upright in her bed. Her eyes flashed wildly about her room, searching for movement or any sign of that thunderous crash or horrible smell. But in the darkness she couldn't see much, the outlines of clothes and toys stacked precariously atop dressers and little else. Anything untouched by the limited light coming from her window was pitch black. So Ella stood, trying to at once tiptoe and run to her light switch, flicking it on as quickly as she could. Unfortunately, this too yielded undesirable results, no response. The room remained dark, even as Ella tried again and again there was still no light, not even a flicker. Probably a broken light bulb. Loath as she was to the idea, she was feeling compelled to call out, she knew her Father would hear, come and fix it, he was just on the other side of the wall. But... She could fix this herself, Dad was a last resort. So, determined to show her unbridled talent and Independent spirit, she set off towards the hall, promptly tripping over a mysteriously fallen dresser that she had previously failed to see. As painful as the fall was, Ella managed to stifle her whimpers, instead opting to kick the dresser she'd tripped over with a hearty grunt steeped in frustration and lean back against the nearest wall, only to fall again as her outstretched hand disappeared into the darkness where the wall was supposed to be. The wall had caved inwards, like someone had tried to run a car through it, and when Ella's hand did meet with the wall, instinct propelled her backwards with a sharp cry. It was hot, unbearably hot. How it had happened she didn't know, but the wall felt like it should have been on fire! She couldn't hear the crackling of fire, or see glowing in the hall, but even if she had it wouldn't have mattered much. Despite her fears and trepidation, she sped off down the hall, sparing only the briefest of dirty glances back at the fallen dresser. Something was fishy, but the faint twinge of doubt was drowned out by her fear. She shared that wall with her Father, it was his room that was on the other side. At this point, Panicked wouldn't have begun the describe her, but she skidded down the hall without faltering. She had no idea what she'd do, as she gripped the handle of her Father's door crying out as it singed her hand, though as soon as she pulled it away, her eyes hardened, tears dried up, and her hand twisted the knob even as she bit her tongue, a harsh howl clawing its way out of her throat. She swung the door open as the moon light met her, staring with wide eyes, she wept, heart seizing in her chest as if to voice its own disbelief. The entirety of the rooms center was gone, along with the bed and wall it was closest to. Most of the furniture was tossed on its sides, lamps ripped from the wall, drawers sent to rest within the singed pit that was once where her Father would have greeted her from his bed, read her stories, comfort her. And now, what could he be but dead? "No..." Even as her gut started screaming for her to leave, she moved forward, feet beginning to feel the same pain as her hand. But still she continued, to the edge of the hole where the floor had given way, she forced herself to look over the edge... Seeing nothing, nothing more than what she had seen before, the bottom was empty aside from the blacked husks of drawers, no bed, no dad, no... nothing. Even as she tried to process this next revelation, she heard the splintering of wood and hurried foot steps. Someone had busted in, and now of all times! Her gut was going crazy, telling her to run, hide, do anything to escape, so she settled for the one piece of furniture that hadn't been tossed around, her Father's old trunk. Rushing over to it the second she saw it, she flipped up the lid, tossing about the junk inside before clumsily jamming her fingers trying to close the thing. Just like everything else, the Trunk was hot both inside and out, but her gut had convinced her, getting caught by whoever was breaking in would be worse, she was sure. Painful as it was, she was only reassured by the time the intruders made their way to he Father's room. "What the-?" Ella could only see the legs of the first man through the keyhole, thudding steps and rough voice finally disturbing the contradicting silence that had settled over the room, thankfully masking the little noise Ella had tried so hard not to make. "What is it Corddae?" The second asked, gasping in surprise, "God's name, how did this-?" "Get the girl, find her." This Corddae growled, sending Ella into a panic and edging further away from the keyhole, just as he shuffled himself closer to the edge of the pit, "And be gentle!". His partner, college, underling, whatever he was, pounded off without another word, and Corddae reached into the pit. He mumbled under his breath, before shifted his stance, letting Ella see his face. A stark white mask was all Ella thought she saw at first, till the corners of his mouth twisted in a look of displeasure. The great pits where his eyes should have been were instead host to flames, just as pale as his face. "Have you found her?!" He called, standing back to his full height, thankfully taking his horrific visage with him. "No, quite a mess though Inspector, should we-?" "Not yet Kiddo." Corddae turned, stepping out of frame, "First, we'd best pull any information we can get from the Grivada, something with this case is off." No sooner had he spoken than the howling screech of tires broke the silence outside. "... Coincidence?" His fellow asked, voice tense. "Not in this job Bayesian. Get to the motorcar and get dispatch on the bell. Tell them we need a team of Postcogs and an Illuminist." The was a pertinent pause, but soon the second man, Bayesian, spoke. "An Illuminist, sir?" His voice grew quite as footfall carried him further away, "Shouldn't we seek out, well... More logical options first?" The questions were met by a sharp, short laugh, and an equally sharp response. "The today's logic assumes that the improbable is tantamount to the impossible. If things were really so cut and dry, I wouldn't have even asked for the postcogs." Their conversation continued, but the words stopped being clear after that last sentence. Ella, for her part, waited, silent and unmoving. She had no idea what she had just witnessed, it felt like everything had just stopped making sense the second she saw that thing's face. Never mind the things he said, to her, it was almost gibberish... Almost. This Corddae person... Had specifically mentioned "the girl", who else could he had been talking about? They were there for her, thank God she listened to her gut or... Well she didn't know what, but it couldn't have been good. Slowly, she peeked out of her box, not seeing anything out of the crack, she lifted the lid further. She briefly through of where she would go, who would take her in. Maybe, someone could explain this hell away, that somewhere down the line, they'd show her the camera and this nightmare would be through. She knew that was naïve, but then again, that was what she had called Bailey for... All thoughts were cut short when Ella noticed it, floating well above her head and tucked in shadow. An eye, a human eye. Horrific blood red fibers curled, twisted, and swayed from it, sinuous strands that twirled in a wind she could neither feel nor hear. For but a moment, she hesitated, eyes wide, face taught in shock. And in that moment, she heard her dread, the distant thudding, boots striking the ground, they were coming back. "Shit!" Ella cursed, violently throwing the lid back with a crash and springing full tilt into the hall. As she reached the doorway, she turned for the main door, hoping to beat her pursuers to it. Hopes that were quickly dashed as she spotted the monster, Corddae, turn the corner, face lit by the fury of hell. That sent her scrambling the other way fast, faster than she thought herself capable. Like a fire was at her heels, Ella dashed into her room, slamming her door shut and making for her window. She could hear the shouting and swearing, the encroaching thunder as the intruders charged her door, her heart sputtered as it splinted. And with one swift motion, she slid from her open window, landing on her rear several feet below, barely dodging a grasping hand. Shooting to her feet, she took off. Staying out in the dark had always left her scared witless, though the fear she felt now made everything else seem small and distant, wild, fanciful feelings better suited to the minds of the naive than her own... Though maybe she was naïve, she had called Bailey that, for professing her belief in the magical. Now that she had seen it herself, monsters in the image of men, creatures grotesque in form and unclear in purpose, she lacked the confidence she had once scolded her friend with. She had been so mad at Bailey's stubbornness that she had not accepted pleas to end the argument till she had heard what she wanted... That too felt small, the anger, the frustration. What was left was guilt, regret, and shame. But where else was she to go? She had to wonder if she would see herself rejected, if she pushed her friend too far this time. In the absence of her father, she felt she only had one place to go, and if Bailey wouldn't let her in... Well, she'd have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Tick! Bailey had no thought as to what the sound was, she supposed she may have heard the last few times, but that thought was barely more than a whisper, and faded quickly into her darkening mind. In that period, she felt herself drifting back into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware of the rain or the storm that rattled her house. Settling into a dreamy lull however, only served to startle her when the subtle ticks stopped being subtle. Bang! With a start and a yelp, Bailey fell from her bed, landing with a soft whump upon the ground. Anger flaring, She stood herself up, slightly disorientated, and made her way to the window. On the way, her groggy mind wondered just who would be trying to get her attention at this time, and with no small amount of hesitation (or frustration), she considered that it might have been Robbin trying to be romantic. Now, if it was anybody else he was trying to woo, she'd have been ecstatically following the entire saga, gushing over it the whole way. Such romantics did not seem to apply when she was the one being romanced. So, cautiously, she approached the window, not wanting anyone to notice she was looking through. She peeked just barely over the sill, just enough to guess that it was not Robbin. He may have been a little bit of an odd one, but she doubted he was one to wear pink pajamas. "Ella?" She whispered to herself, it was hard to tell for certain, all that lit the dim street below was a barely functioning street lamp, plus she was one whole floor off the ground. But even so, she moved as fast as she could down stairs, fast as she dared anyways, her parents were far from hard of hearing. Even now she doubted they were asleep, that final toss from Ella almost certainly left one of them awake. That alone would have made her angry, but Bailey still had the lingering vehemence of their earlier argument drifting about at the forefront of her mind. Her Father had always said to "Be the better man," hard words to live by, even harder when it was one in the morning on a school night. Even as she approached the door, she struggled with what she was going to say, and as her hand grasped the door knob she saw Ella hurrying to meet her. Her anger rose for but a moment, as heated words and bitter grievances gasped and clawed their way to her throat. She almost said many things, words she knew she would regret, even as she opened the door, her mouth hung open, half-formed syllables formed at the edge of her tongue. And there they would remain, as Ella rushed in, dragging Bailey into a wet, shivering hug. "I'm sorry." She whispered, voice cracking with every sound she made. She said it over and over again, "I am so sorry Bailey!" By the seventh apology, her voice trailed off into strained whimpers, with Bailey hanging limp in her embrace. Ella was never like this, she could count on one hand how many times she had seen her friend cry, and never... Hugging, holding, sobbing. Though, maybe just one time, the memory was fuzzy, it felt so long ago... When-? A casket, flowers, pictures, Bailey never really counted herself as one with good memory, but the event was suddenly very clear in her mind. Oh no. Mrs. McLane's funeral, It was so long ago that Bailey couldn't even picture the face of the deceased, but she could still remember the hug shared between budding friends... Their first. Oh Ella. She thought, as her anger melted away, replaced with bittersweet melancholy and unreserved empathy. She didn't know what had caused this outpouring of grief... But whatever it was, Bailey would be there for her, as she was in the beginning, as she would be in the end. New friends found in trails, Old friendship strengthened in loss, Winding paths to lead, To the battle of the lost, Commentary: Gaiden Al Yuth wrote this as his 33rd Title in his historical anthology, Seven Hundred Wars, unique among the others. It has captured my interest somewhat. I've noticed that it has a pattern, somewhat like poetry, that, and it is incredibly vague, I have no real thoughts as to what he is referring. The rest of the passage is similar. Curious.