Part One

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"Now when the angle of the short leg on this triangle reaches fifteen degrees, the opposite leg's angle must be less than seventy five degrees as the angle below the hypotenuse goes over ninety degrees."

In a town not far off from the city of Ashtabula Ohio, Neil Paulson Nichols yawned while listening to one of Mr. Robocher's monotone lectures about triangles. It's all the man ever talked about in his math classes. Without fail, from Algebra, to Pre-Calculus, he'd find a way for it to involve triangles at least once, even if the topic had little or nothing to do with them. At this rate, the class should receive honorary Doctorates on three sided polygons before graduation.

In the back of the classroom, one student was sleeping on his desk in a pool of his own drool; another was going over her nails, even though she already went over them twice before. Pretty much the whole class was bored out of their minds, all except one: Helen. She just showed up in town a few months ago; and, since her first day of school, she pays very close attention in class, and take notes on everything, everything.

Sometimes, Helen would sit and watch everyone, taking notes on what she saw, like life was giving her a test on itself. Neil even watched her stand in the middle of the hall and stare at people, like they were all just moving statues in her garden of mysteries. The other students avoided her on account of this strange, and frankly creepy, behavior. Helen, however, seemed quite undisturbed by this. She appeared perfectly content sitting at her barren table in the cafeteria, on a bench with her nose buried in a text book, or engaging in her odyssey of unsettling everyone in school. This display continued for the last month solid without interruption.

Neil felt something nudge his left shoulder. Looking back to the next row, his childhood friend, Trisha, gave him a crumpled piece of paper.

Trisha was the only person in town trying to figure Helen's story out. In fact, scheming and secretive planning was standard behavior for Trisha Morgan. Trisha loved detective stories, namely that of Sherlock Holmes and the novels by James Howe. Her inquisitive nature actually turned into a passion for chemistry. After devouring every book and text book on the subject she could get her hands on, she became the best chemist on campus without a doctorate. Meaning, only the professors could challenge her hungry mind, making high school level chemistry, to put it bluntly in her own words, elementary for her.

Naturally, when Helen moved in town and scored second to her in chemistry, Trisha jumped at the chance to introduce herself. However, Helen was too caught up in her business to pursue a friendship with Trisha and she engaged her in little beyond polite small talk. Since this was the last time anyone attempted contact with Helen in school, and her attitude towards Human contact at all remained nonexistent, this gradually disturbed Trisha as the weeks rolled by. In Trisha's mind, no sane person would actively brush off human contact, unless they were up to something. Three weeks after Trisha made first and last contact, the amateur detective made it her personal mission to understand the enigma named Helen. That was six weeks ago.

Sighing, Neil straightened the note, then read:

Neil:
Found something on Helen, meet me at the usual spot after class.
P.S. This note will self-ignite; watch your hands.

A burning string taped to the note set it aflame. Neil dropped it, as the paper quickly turned to ash with little smoke. He glared at her, and she just sheepishly smiled back. Flammable messages, or volatile notes as she called them, were Trisha's way of secretive communication. Cell phones, of course, were just no fun by comparison.

"Mr. Nichols?"

Neil looked to Mr. Robocher. "Yes?"

"What is the hypotenuse of this triangle if the small leg's side is equal to three?"

Neil grabbed his calculator, then pushed a few buttons. "Eleven point five nine?"

"Correct." Without changing his tone, Mr. Robocher continued his lecture.

Trisha gave Neil a thumbs up, then Helen looked back and smiled, which was weird.

She's never done that before. He thought, as Trisha narrowed her eyes in suspicion to this sudden change of Helen's disposition.

Soon, lunch time clocked in and the bell rang. Math class was finally over to everyone's relief. Neil stuffed his school gear into his back pack, then left the room to meet Trisha. Everyone went straight to the mess-hall, emptying the hallways rather quickly. Out in the main hallway, he checked his watch to see if he had time for both Trisha and lunch.

"Hey, eagle eye," a voice called from a corner he passed.

Neil gritted his teeth, then he slowly turned. "Hello, Blake."

Blake Thomson stood six feet-two inches tall and was the school's athlete; he was fit, fast, smart and the center of all douchebagery that took place on campus. His hobbies included punching, shoving, insulting, holding a magazine racket business, sniffing Nurgle farts, sacrificing kittens to the blood god, pledging himself to the god of schemes and having a passion for making Neil's day hell; in addition, he got away with all of it, as no one could prove he did these things. He was a straight A student with no recorded history of trouble making to speak of. Anyone that wanted to report him was quelled by Blake’s natural born talent for blackmail; and, his golden record made reports against him unbelievable to the school faculty. With these unholy perks, Blake could turn any of his victims into a suspect if he needed to. This made him virtually untouchable.

Blake walked closer, then put his hands on Neil's shoulders, his blue eyes glaring at him. "Where are you off to in such a rush?"

"Lunch?" Neil tried to remove Blake's hands. "Let go, Blake."

Blake tightened his grip just to spite his wishes, almost digging his nails into Neil's back. "What's that? Did you forget about our business agreement?"

Neil just stood there, glaring at him. "No."

"Good." Blake smiled, then let go. "So, you brought the merchandise?"

Neil, rubbing his shoulders, let his back-pack down. After opening it, he handed some playboy magazines to Blake. "Take them. Do you remember your end of the deal?"

Blake ran a finger over the adult magazines, counting them. He's been selling these to students who could afford them for years; and, his knack for blackmail, obviously blessed by the ruinous powers of all that was smothered in smut, ensured he never got caught either. He looked at the magazines, then nodded. "I remember the deal." He frowned. "However, you forgot the Hustlers."

"They were out-" Neil started.

Blake laughed. "Neil, have I ever broken a promise?"

Neil shook his head, begrudgingly. "No"

"So, you know if you do not have the rest of the merchandise by, oh, let's say... lunch time tomorrow, Trisha's chem final test score will crash like the Hindenburg?"

Neil looked down scowling, then nodded.

Blake shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, Neil; but, a promise is a promise. Besides, we're partners in this business, remember? You'll figure it out. You would never let your girlfriend down; right?"

"She's just a friend."

Blake chuckled, then punched Neil's sore shoulder hard, forcing him to stumble back. "Whatever; see you at lunch, Romeo."

Neil put his back-pack on, wincing in pain, while Blake walked to the mess-hall. After he lost sight of him, Neil continued to meet Trisha while re-checking his watch. "I should still be early." At the 'usual' place, being the old school wing that was off limits to students, he sat in one of the dusty old desk chairs in the half boarded off history class room and waited.

"Hey'a!" Trisha greeted after arriving. "Glad you made it."

"Hey." Neil waved. "Now, what's this about Helen?"

"Okay." She sat on the dusty teachers desk. "It took me a while; but, I've finally learned that Helen's been going to the basement right when school's over once every two weeks. We know there are no windows or doors down there to outside; it's completely shut off, right? So, get this; she shows up for school the very next day without leaving! Creepy right?"

"Terrifying." Neil leaned back into his chair. "Alright, so what?"

"Heh, today just so happens to be two weeks from the last time Helen disappeared into the basement. So, when school's over, I'm going to wait for her near the basement door after the bell rings, then stalk her and close this case for good. Should be a piece of cake, since there's only one way in and out."

"Trisha...." Neil leaned forward on the desk, raising an eye brow at her. "Remember what happened the last time you investigated a student you thought was hiding something?"

She scrunched her nose, partly embarrassed by the memory, and frustrated at her friend's doubts. "This is totally different! Besides, if I had known being a guy was Olivia's secret, I would've backed off. She was just such a brat all the time! After that milkshake incident, I had to teach her a lesson in manners."

"That lesson being, don't be an angst driven transsexual?" Neil smiled, holding back a laugh.

"Yes. Having a dick doesn't mean you get to be one." She giggled. "Come on, what if she's really up to something, Neil? Like if...like if she's a Russian spy or something, and she's using this school to smuggle government secrets out the basement?!"

Neil face-palmed. "I seriously doubt that-"

"Challenge accepted." Trisha snatched her back pack, then walked out the room.

Neil scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "Great. There she goes." He knew there was just no stopping Trisha when she made up her mind. This conversation got him thinking about Neolithic Africans, just before they migrated to Europe across the Mediterranean. He imagined how the conversation between the children and their parents might have gone.

"Urd, my daughter, there is nothing but death beyond the deep water. I forbid you to follow those fools to cross it."

"You'll see, father. Not only will we cross it but build a great clan there."

"And where is there exactly? Have you seen this place?"

"What about the gods? We have never seen one, but still sacrifice to them."

"That is hardly the same thing."

"You always say there are things in this world yet seen. Why is this place not one of them?"

"Even if such a land is found, it will be wild and untamed. You have little experience in taming and hunting. I doubt you could offer much help."

"Challenge accepted."

Neil sighed, grabbed his bag, then followed Trisha to finish school, and, hopefully, keep her out of trouble.

After Ms. Abernathy's history class, Neil organized his locker to finish up his day, when Helen stepped by.

She cleared her throat. "Ahem."

Neil turned, then jumped a little at how close she was to him, just within an arms reach. "Helen? Um, yes?"

She smiled, pushed her glasses higher up her freckled nose, then brushed the curly dark brown bangs out of her deep brown eyes. "Your overall knowledge of the Paleo to Neolithic era back in class was sharp. I find your knack for detail in the manufacture and use of stone age tools exceptional; and, I got goosebumps when your presentation ended with the farming techniques of Neolithic man."

"Thanks?" Neil closed his locker, then locked it, taken aback that Helen was actually talking to him, let alone complementing him. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes." She lifted a clipboard up with a pencil ready. "Can I ask you a few things? You and Trisha are the only ones I haven't surveyed yet in this school."

Neil's eyes widened. Helen's note taking had evolved into interviewing people in school? When had that started? He mentally shrugged. "What's this survey for?"

"For a paper I'm doing on this school, is it alright?"

Neil scratched his head. "Eh, sure. What do you need to know?"

"First, how long have you studied here?"

"Well, this place used to have a grade school, before it closed two years ago. I guess since I was ten, so...I've been here for seven years, grade school to high school."

She scribbled some. "Alright. What do you plan on majoring in once you graduate?"

"Not sure yet, I'm still waiting for something to jump at me."

"I'm sure something will. So, do you like this school?"

He smirked. "I don't think anyone does as much as you do."

She smiled back. "Pride in one's work is a virtue. Wouldn't you agree?"

Neil nodded. "Yeah. I can relate to that."

She wrote more, then said, "final question, what do you think is the greatest asset in this world?"

"That's a tall order." Neil pondered some before answering. "People who think of you, no matter where you are."

"Great answer! That's all I needed. Thanks!" Helen looked around. "Do you know where I could find Trisha, by chance?"

Neil scratched his head. Should he tell her about Trisha waiting by the basement door? "Um, if you haven't seen her yet, she's probably home by now." He lied.

"I'll just ask her tomorrow, then." Helen waved. "Bye, maybe we could talk again?"

"I'd like that." Neil waved back and watched her walk away. "Man, today's getting stranger by the minute." He checked his wristwatch, then saw Helen turn down the left hall leading to the basement. Neil followed. While leaning over a corner, he watched her open the basement door. After checking if anyone was watching, she went in, closing the door behind. He moved down the hall, looking for Trisha.

"Pisst!"

Neil peered left, then saw the Janitor's closet slightly open, with Trisha peeking out.

She gestured at the basement door. "See?"

"Alright, she's down there, like you said." Neil crossed his arms. "Let's say for humor's sake, she is a spy. Spies carry guns, right? I suppose you have some defense for that?"

"Yep." She went for the door with her personal camcorder in hand.

"Does that camera ensnare the souls of unwary mortals, or, in this case, Communists?" Neil asked, smiling sarcastically.

Trisha smiled back. "Something like that." She twisted the knob without success. "Locked, she must've known we're following her."

"Damn, a socialist barricade of biblical proportions." Neil mockingly sighed in defeat. "We better get home before the Reds invade."

"What?" she furrowed her eye brows at him.

He held up his cellphone. "Should I get Patrick Swayze to help? I have him on speed dial."

"Sure; but, before you do, let's just use the Janitor's key." Trisha held a key ring up, giving it a jingle with a smirk.

Neil frowned. "How did you get the Janitor's key set?"

"With the Principle's key set." She answered matter-of-fact.

The boy face-palmed. "Of course you did."

After she unlocked the door, Neil buckled himself to his backpack, then followed private eye Trisha down the stairs into the basement. The old lighting was hardly efficient and tenuously illuminated everything. The brick walls were settling in places, while unmaintained pipes leaked from the ceiling, leaving slippery pools scattered about the floor. The air felt and smelled stale and wet, like the building itself was perspiring.

Clearly more than a few state health codes were being violated down here. All this made the basement an eerie and unpleasant place. Neil just wanted to leave and was thankful for every locked door they confronted, hoping they would prove unopenable; unfortunately, Trisha dashed the hope with a key for each one.

Neil's nose filled with a nasty moldy odor once she opened the fourth door in a room with a wet floor and dank walls. "Remind me why I let you drag me into places like this?"

"Because, you like it?" Trisha pointed at the last door. "Shhh, look!"

Lights flickered from the edges of the doorway at the end of the hall, with a soft humming vibration coming from behind it. Neil and Trisha just shared looks, feeling the hairs on their skin perk up. Walking closer, the gooseflesh intensified and the humming grew louder every step closer they took. After opening the door into another storage room, Trisha turned on her camcorder. She smirked, seeing a shadow of a person cast on the wall from a flickering light to the right of the room.

His instincts screaming danger, Neil grabbed Trisha's shoulder. "I don't like this. Let's go back."

"No way, not before we get her." She jerked her shoulder free and briskly walked into the room, yelling, "The jig's up Helen! We've caught you-" Trisha froze and the color drained from her face.

Neil quickly joined her and his blood turned cold.

The storage room was mostly empty, save for Helen standing near a man sized ellipse of light in the corner. Neil guessed it was some sort of star gate, or portal. The astounded boy saw a skyline with clouds. Forests stood in the distance beyond a scene with rolling hills and farms. A town was nestled at the center of the valley, where a river ran nearby with a small bridge to cross it connected to a simple dirt road leading to the settlement. It all seemed so real, despite Neil's mind firing on all cylinders to offer explanations to the contrary. All counterarguments disintegrated, however, once a fresh cool breeze wafted from the portal. Neil smelled something baking upon the wind. Perhaps, pastries?

Helen looked back over her shoulder and gasped, seeing Neil and Trisha staring at her with mouths agape. She quickly turned and shouted, "Oh, thank god! Neil, Trisha, I'm so glad you're here!" Helen backed away from the portal, then pointed at it fearfully. "This weird thing popped in out of nowhere and nearly sucked me inside it!"

Trisha narrowed her eyes at her. "Is that a wormhole?"

"Worm-hole?" Helen repeated, then shrugged. "Dunno, I've read about time-warps and stuff like that; but, I never thought any of it was actually true." She looked at the portal anxiously. "What are we going to do?!"

"You just happened to be down here when that appeared?" Trisha asked, "Why?"

"Errm." Helen's eyes looked side to side as she thought out her story. "Weed?"

Trisha deadpanned. "You were smoking weed in the basement before a wild portal opened?"

"Legalize it I say!" Helen nodded proudly, then asked sheepishly smiling, "You won't tell anyone about this, right?"

"Sure." Trisha just blinked, her expression unchanged. "No need to keep it a secret, because you weren't smoking weed."

Helen replied in surprise by Trisha's bold statement, "excuse me?"

"Cannabis has a very distinct odor. I know because my fat headed cousin smokes that garbage, always saying it makes him think better." Trisha rolled her eyes. "Thinking better makes you think better." She pointed at Helen. "I don't smell any cannabis here. All I smell is a damned dirty lying rat!" She glanced back at Neil. "Right, Neil?"

Neil just blinked, eyes still locked on the portal.

"I'm not a liar." Helen insisted. "I smoked by the vent so no one would know. I'll prove it." She walked closer to Trisha. "Here, look at my eyes. They're most certainly dilated!"

"Stay back!" Trisha tried to push Helen back, but her hand phased through her chest.

"Whoa!" Neil unfroze himself and ran to Trisha.

Trisha screamed while pulling her hand back and taking a few steps away.

Neil took her hand to inspect it, then relief washed over him seeing no signs of injury.

"That explains the damned portal." Trisha frowned while pointing a finger at Helen angrily. "What are you, an alien sent here to scout our planet for possible invasion?!"

Helen stammered, "I-invasion? No way! I'm here to just collect knowledge. It's quite harmless, I promise."

"Yeah, I bet!" Trisha held the camcorder up. "Let's see how you fare when my world knows about this!"

"You really shouldn't do that." Helen waved her hands. "Really, if you just let me explain-" She saw Trisha recording her, then looked at Neil. "Neil, you'll listen, right?"

Neil just stared at her, silently.

"Thought you could lie your way out, huh? You fat faced Xeno!" Trisha smirked devilishly. "When I upload this on the web, your alien ass is Earthling grass!"

"I am not fat!" Helen stomped her foot down, then sighed and glared at Trisha. "You leave me no choice." Helen stepped in quickly and grabbed the camcorder.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Trisha pulled it back, but Helen held on.

Both grunted and struggled for dominance over the camcorder. Helen smiled and dragged Trisha by her heels towards her.

Trisha glared back at Neil. "A little help would be nice!"

Neil ran beside her and grabbed the camcorder. Even against two people, Helen was holding her own, pulling them both hard enough their shoes skid on the moist floor. Strangely, the camcorder and Helen's hands glowed a light teal hue.

"Man, she's strong!" Trisha grunted, as her palms started to sweat and lose their grip.

Helen smirked when the camcorder flew free from its owner, but frowned as fast when Neil slipped on a puddle under a drippy pipe.

"Whoa!" Neil's right shoe just gave and he slid towards the wormhole to his horror.

"No, stop!" Helen tried to push him away, but her footing also failed once he collapsed into her. "This spell wasn't designed for Humans!" she desperately screamed.

Neil tumbled into the wormhole with Helen, while Trisha screamed his name as the portal closed shut behind them.

Neil felt weightless, as butterflies tickled his stomach and violent winds tore at his face and body. He forced his eyes open and realized he was falling from a great height. He panicked and clawed at the air, despite the futility of the action. His thrashing turned him backwards. Faster he fell; harsher the wind blew. The sun in the clear sky above blinded him. After cutting through the clouds, he finally managed to turn back around. He saw a big forest below him, filled with green leafy skewers of death.

I'm going to die. He thought, Hit those and die.

Neil bought himself some precious extra seconds of life by opening his body as wide as possible. Before almost touching the tree tops, Neil closed his eyes, covered his face and felt sharp pains assault his body. The thick canopy tore his clothes and cut his arms, but broke some of his momentum with each strike. Hitting branches going down, he flipped after his right leg hit and twisted on a big branch. He reached for the tree. Its weaker branches snapped easily out of his grip. After something tore free off his back, he bounced off a large low branch, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping to refill his lungs, he drew a raspy breath in and screamed before hitting the forest floor, blacking out.

Neil gasped back to life and his mangled body flushed with pain. His chest felt tight; breathing was difficult. He eyed around, seeing nothing but leaves, hanging moss and tree branches. Some sunlight peeped through the canopy, just enough to illuminate the thickets. Neil slowly sat up, not recognizing anything. Birds were singing. Trees, dirt, grass, mossy rocks and bushes surrounded him; a brook babbled nearby; but, he saw no signs of civilization. He tried to stand, then fell to his backside as pain raced up his leg. Inspecting them, his eyes widened seeing a stick had punctured into his right thigh.

Don't panic. He thought while trying to slow his breathing, his mind too shocked to formulate complex words, Pull it out? He pulled on it. Preverbal knifes of anguish cut up his leg, forcing him to let go. Neil caught his breath, then pulled again to his own agony; the commotion startled some nearby birds in the trees to take flight. When it finally came free, he held his bleeding wound, panting heavily. It's over; you're fine. He repeated inside his head, trying to distract himself, It's over; you're fine. He kept pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. After resting a little, he let the pressure off to peek at the hole in his leg. When blood gushed out the pit, he gagged and emptied his lunch unto the forest floor. For what seemed like five minutes of evacuating his stomach, he finally inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet air. Neil tried to stand after a brief rest, but his leg would not bear it. He promptly fell back to his posterior, the pain turning his stomach outside-in once again, but there was nothing left to puke at this point.

When he could breathe again, Neil surveyed his position with added desperation. Fear mixed with his pain. Neil was in the middle of some forlorn forest, a strange place, surrounded by strange things and strange noises. He was lost, hurt and alone. Worse yet, if he didn't know where he was, it was likely no one else knew. This realization added fuel to the fire and scared him out of his wits. Neil's eyes went wide as a full moon; he explosively inhaled and let out all his pent up fear and shock in one terrible cry.

"Heellp!"

Part Two

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Neil's cry for help echoed through the alien forest and across the surrounding misty hills. The birds fell silent as all stood still. His ear bursting howl created such a silence that a twig snap would carry undisturbed for miles. Nothing, not even the insects announced themselves after Neil's blood chilling plead. His shout died over the vastness of the deep green sea, leaving Neil immersed in a void of noiselessness, save for the savage pounding of his heart; suddenly, the entire forest surrounded and enclosed on him like a living vise. The silence, the lack of motion besides his own, sent chills up his spine. The forest, but a living host to the unseen hungry things, had no respite to offer the poor boy. He felt the beastly eyes of the wild set upon him in the moldy, dank, tepid, crawling, living, savage, hungry, silence. Then, the great living thing, having calculated, weighed and measured the life of the damaged little thing, revived back to its usual business. The birds chirped, sang, and the crows cawed. The insects rattled, screamed and clicked their usual mating calls. The trees swayed again with the fresh breeze. Even the brook resumed its babbling; but, no further consideration was given to the visceral helplessness of little Neil.

Frozen in terror, Neil watched blood ooze through his fingers from his leg and pool beneath his thigh. He pressed harder on the wound to stop the bleeding, in vain. His life sustaining warmth faded by the second; his nerves screamed danger as the reaper drew close with its cold skeletal hand extended. The boy frantically looked around again and again for signs of life. Tears falling and turning red as they stung the cuts on his cheeks, the sickening fear in his stomach overpowered his self-control. "I'm going to die here." He rasped, the words originating more from his inner plant than man.

There are three minds in the brains of men, according to Aristotle: the vegetable, the animal, and the human. The plant mind was focused solely on survival, primal needs, procreation and the base instincts required in these pursuits. The animal mind worked with emotions, family, seeking comfort, memory, etc. The human mind was the origin of reason, of thought, the port in the storm surrounded by the tempests of mad savage survival. It was the sharpener of tools, the shaper of will, the calculator of measurements, the forger of destiny, the weaver of dreams, the house of all man's accomplishment. In this house, man's potential was limited only by nature herself. That is why the plant mind grew its roots into the house of man, the cortex. The ever worrying, ever fearful, plant roots doubt and irrational temptation to control the man and his frightening potential. It seeds this in man with its own flavor of reason, a sweet false reason: think of all the things that crazy man upstairs could get into, it reasons; think of all the hungry beasts he would find, all the poisons he might eat, or all the bumps he may hear in the ever expanding night? It whispers sweetly, listen to me and stay safe; betray me and be swallowed by the shadows.

If man was a creature cradling a burning candle surrounded by the abyss of the unknown, the plant would have him stay sitting on his knees, staring right at the flame, safe in its light from all that creepeth in the dark. The animal would be quite content just with the warmth of the small lapping fire. Yet, the man would protest, unsatisfied. Simply being alive is not enough for the man. The abyss must be understood; it must be tamed, shaped, loved. A true man embodies nature; he must fill his abyss with her wonders, then set his hands free to do her work. A plant can only grow; an animal can only eat; but, it is the man that creates. Without that creation, the man suffers on his knees.

Overtaken by raw desperation, Neil turned away from his blood soaked injury and clawed at the dirt, the dead leaves and grass, pulling himself into a slow crawl. His instincts took over; he clawed and crawled away at the earth like a savage beast, leaving his leg to bleed freely. His mind went numb, drunk with fear, motivated only by the thought of finding help. Anyone, anywhere, he needed to find help.

Deep within the hormone intoxicated folds of Neil's mind, the roots of the plant grew at an alarming rate. The animal went to sleep, encapsulated by the plant; but, within the stronghold of his house, the man gasped at his situation. He cried out as the roots of the plant broke through his floors and walls, then burst out his celling and windows; like hungry serpents the roots feasted upon the lawful, the reasonable, and the beautiful. The house of reason was in grave danger within the mind of the very frightened boy. The man screamed at Neil to cease feeding the plant, but the roots were overtaking the boy's ears, eyes, and mouth. With each second spent in his futile escape attempt, the boy's life ebbed away. The plant was winning the war within and the false reason poured into Neil's mind like a wine sweetened with lead dust. The plant whispered he had no way of stopping the bleeding, no way to protect himself from any manner of hungry beast, no way to keep warm, no means of safety in the living eating green of the wild. He was just a boy, an injured, helpless, child. His only hope was to find help. He had to live; he didn't want to die, not here, not alone. Then, in the last moment, in the fortress of reason's darkest hour, the man's final outcry within his crumbling home reached through the encircling roots: Survive!

Neil twitched, halting in mid crawl. "Survive." It was such a simple word, yet more powerful than the finest speech by any general or leader. It brought memories of his research into ancient man and how, through sheer determination, they survived the untamed Earth, armed only with their bare hands and brains. How was his situation any different?

The man continued, Think and pull yourself together, boy! You are a descendent of those people! Do not throw your life away without a fight! You must live!

"Live." Neil breathed, calming himself and releasing the dirt from his grasp.

The man's logos forced its way through the unreasonable deftness, opening the boy's ears. Remember the Africans! He recalled on another memory. They built their ships on the shores of the vast Mediterranean, then crossed it and tamed the wilds of Europe! The plant mind gradually lost its hold on the house of man as he continued; They assuredly made bandages for their wounded! The man pointed Neil's attention to his leg. Stop the bleeding.

"Stop the bleeding." Neil blinked, his body loosened. He inspected his bloody torn shirt and quickly ripped free a shred; he pulled the impromptu dressing tightly over his wound and winced as the injury sealed. Finally, the blood loss waned, then stopped. Neil sighed in utter blissful relief. With that simple action, something miraculous clicked in Neil's brain. An untapped tide of will ignited within him and his focus sharpened introspectively. His mind regained its ground, despite the shock of nearly meeting the reaper. Stay calm. Neil took a few moments to process what happened and to breathe.

The pavilion of man stood, finally at its rightful place and forced the plant mind back into its dark center, locking it in place. A wave of clarity cleansed the toxic reason from the boy's mind and settled into an ordered state of thought. The man stood in his rebuilt home and marveled at its new architecture. For the first time, the plant could no longer impede upon Neil, nor halt his evolution. Instead, it could only serve his needs and no more. The man, surrounded by the abyss of the unknown, stood with his candle extended, finally free to live or die on his feet. Miraculously, the mind of the boy suddenly became beautiful.

After several minutes past, Neil tasted the dryness of his mouth. "Water." he rasped. The brook babbling nearby offered the solution to his thirst. Placing his hands down, he painfully pulled himself toward it. He crawled over the clearing and leaned to the brook's edge, overlooking a still pool. The rushing water had eroded a low pressure zone into the soft green mossy bank. The clear pool was still, like liquid glass. Staring at the cool fresh water, Neil hardly recognized his reflection. Bloodied cuts and swollen bruises tattooed his face. Emotions stirred butterflies into his stomach. Tears burned his eyes and he sniffled his running nose. Considering the incredible height he fell from, he should either be a human shish kabob, or a stain on the forest floor. "I'm a lucky bastard." he said to the reflection. The urge to drink overpowered his emotions and cleared the mind; Neil never felt so thirsty in his life. He dove his face into the cold brook, practically inhaling the water in furious gulps. Having filled himself, he let his head up, gasping for air and coughing harshly. Rolling to his back, he rested on the crisp bank and relaxed, letting the water do its work. Then, the hunger hit him. His stomach groaned and turned noisily. The cold water brought his hunger to life from the shadows and sharpened it.

"I've got to eat." He looked at his leg. The bandage was slick with still warm blood, but the primitive seal held fast. He tried to move it and the flare of pain that assaulted him made the idea of walking ludicrous. "How? I can hardly move." He sighed and lied back to think. Looking around, he saw a thick dead stick hanging over the bank, rooted in the soft soil. "Hmmm." He wondered if it would make a good crutch. He crawled to it, then tried to pull the stick free. It remained stubborn for the first few tries, but its rotten roots gave out and the stick pulled free. Neil placed the muddy end in the brook to clean it, then stuck the sharp end in the soil and pulled himself up. "Gah!" He yelped through his gritting teeth as he stumbled a few times; but, thanks to his new crutch, he put enough weight off his injured leg. Standing was finally tolerable. Grinning, Neil carefully limped back to the clearing.

He surveyed the clearing for something edible and spied a bush with red berries that resembled huckleberries. He picked a berry and inspected it, wondering if they were poisonous, or indeed huckleberries. He thought for a minute, then remembered reading how the cave men discovered edible wild foliage with the sample test. If the food in question made your lips or tongue tingle or go numb, it's definitely poison. He squished the tiny berry between his fingers and sampled a drop of juice on his tongue. It tasted tart and wasn't very sweet either. After a minute, his tongue felt fine. No tingles, or numbness. He bit the berry pulp, chewed a little, then spat it out and waited some more. Again, nothing happened. Feeling more secure, he popped a berry in his mouth and ate it. Neil sat down and counted to five minutes. Feeling no different, he figured they were huckleberries and thus safe. Eating them was rather laborious as the tartness made the underside of his tongue sting a little. All in all, they were pretty foul. It's quite possible they weren't in season yet, he reasoned; but, they were edible and that was enough.

Four handfuls of huckleberries later, the edge of his hunger softened. He slowly sat and rested his back on a tree. His mind raced with questions. Where was he? Or rather, where had he been taken to? The portal, wormhole, time-warp, or whatever it was, obviously transported him somewhere; but, where? He looked around at the forest, wondering if he was even on Earth anymore. That thought sent a shiver up his spine; yet, he doubted that hypothesis. Neil criticized the trees; they were normal trees. He tested the dirt between his fingers; it was average dirt. He scrutinized the sky; the sky was an ordinary blue, with predictable white happy fluffy clouds. He breathed in the air; obviously, the air was normal because he was still alive to test it. That posed the biggest problem; the air was breathable. The odds of a random alien planet having a nourishing atmosphere for a human were far too miniscule; Neil knew that much at least about astronomy. No, everything was normal. He was still on Earth, no doubt. But, where on Earth? Most importantly, was help coming? He did scream pretty loud before. Maybe somebody heard him? If not, how long could he hold out until he found rescue? He sighed and gently tackled with the notion that he might remain stranded for a while.

The contemplative boy rose to his feet and took a walk, to think and shrug off his encroaching panic attack. Neil limped down a small beaten path, watching some deer graze and bunnies hop away. When he got close to a tree, a squirrel cussed him out and ran up to a higher branch. He laughed, thinking, That was definitely an Earth squirrel. Neil wished he still possessed his school bag. It had his book on stone age survival techniques in it. If he just had that book, his situation might be bearable. Without it, he had to rely on his memory. He made stone tools for fun all the time; that wasn't the problem. It was the other skills like tracking, hunting, foraging and building that were fuzzy. Could he remember everything? That formed a pit in his stomach. The last time he applied the advanced stone age techniques was during a camping trip with his family two years ago. His train of thought broke when his neck hair stood on edge. He felt uneasy, like he was being watched. The limping teen froze on the path when the bushes rustled from behind. Neil's wide eyes probed the tree line for the source of the unsettling noise.

Two dim dots of green light glowed inside a shadowed bush.

Neil squinted at the strange anomaly. "What the-" he didn't get the chance to finish before the bush growled in response. Neil backed up, as a large creature slowly emerged from the thicket towards him. It resembled a living wooden carving of a wolf with glowing green eyes and clumps of moss growing on its body. It bared its wooden teeth at him and snarled. Its eyes narrowed as its wooden face expressed aggression like supple flesh.

What is that thing?! Neil's mind screamed as his world turned black and white. He slowly retreated back up the path. The wolf thing quickened its march after him. Neil limped faster away and the wolf rushed him. In a split decision, Neil used his stick as a weapon. He swatted the beast away, striking it on the head. It whimpered, then snarled and glared at him with murderous intent.

Neil raised his stick like a spear, then wished he had something sharp at the tip.

Furiously the wolf renewed its assault and leaped at him. Neil's impromptu weapon didn't have the power to stop the beast's momentum. It knocked the desperate boy down and snatched the stick between its jaws. It gnawed at it and pressed Neil into the soil. Its teeth tore gashes in the crutch. Neil knew it would break under such punishment. Then, to his horror, the stick cracked. The beast pushed harder, sensing Neil's only defense was failing. Before the stick gave in, Neil kicked to keep the beast back. Its chest taking the blow, just as the stick finally broke, the monster pushed on his leg while snapping its jaws at his face. Neil's knee was forced to his chest, as the beast's maw hovered just inches from his face; a nasty odor wafted from the wolf's mouth, like putrid mold.

Neil tried to shove it off, but it proved far too heavy. The abomination snatched his arm with its mouth and bit down. The scared boy felt teeth break skin and gnash flesh. With too much adrenaline coursing to feel the pain, he ripped his arm free, tearing shreds of blood stained cloth off his shirt. Neil screamed, "Fuck you!" then punched the beast which all his fight drunk might, which succeeded only in hurting his hand. Growling, the creature tried to bite his neck and finish him. Desperately, Neil searched the floor with his free hand, barely holding the beast back with the other. Before losing strength, his hand brushed a stone. Grabbing it, he smashed the wolf on the head. It yelped and backed off just enough for Neil to quickly crawl backwards some distance. It attacked again, but Neil struck the creature with another swipe of his blunt weapon, this time hitting its left eye. It shrieked, then ran back into the brush.

Neil dragged himself to a tree, then slumped back on it. Gripping the stone in his hand tightly, he exploded, "What in the actual fuck was that thing?!" Heart pounding inside his throat, he never felt so tired, or confused, in his life. Afraid it might return with help, he managed to use the tree and balance on his good leg. Now, every sound set his nerves on edge. He felt surrounded and exposed. "I've got to get back." The poor boy held the bleeding bite on his arm while limping back to the clearing, still riding his adrenal high. Finally at his camp site, he sat on a fallen log. His body couldn't stop trembling. He curled up into a ball and hugged himself to stop; slowly, his adrenaline waned and the full might of his injuries struck him like a slap to the face. Breathing heavy, his mind went numb. The injured boy stared blankly at the forest floor. After several minutes, his body loosened up and the shivering eased.

His bite wound throbbed and he knew his leg was bleeding again. Indeed, it was. He prepared a thicker bandage for his leg from his revenged shirt; then, he dressed his arm. After his new bandages were applied, he slumped to the floor, exhausted to no end. "I've lost too much blood." He felt like the color was draining from him and the world seemed a little grayer than usual. His mind processed the strange beastly attack and was unable to fathom how a wild wooden statue nearly killed him. That creature was not from Earth; Neil knew that. He wanted desperately to find a rational explanation, but it was futile. No way. That was some freaky twilight zone bullshit. He cursed his ever degrading luck, as he chewed on two immediate questions on his mind, What was that abomination? And, Where the hell am I? Neil realized that even if he was still on Earth, it didn't matter. Killer wolves made of wood aren't talked about on the nature channel, or anywhere. He reasoned, Earth or not, he was obviously stranded someplace that nobody had explored before. That revelation killed any hope remaining for rescue in the stranded youth. Neil took a deep breath and concluded he was the first Human to step foot in this misbegotten forest; thus, he was all alone, completely, without any reason to think he would ever be found. He had to rely only on himself in this hostile place, if he wished to live long.

Neil glanced up to the canopy, hoping to see the sun. Instead, he saw a yellow blob dangling in the high branches. Squinting, he gasped. "My school bag!! With renewed vigor, he quickly snatched up some rocks and threw them at the bag. But, it remained stuck. "Damn it." He got a bigger rock. "Get down here!" He yelled and missed with the heavier stone to his exasperation. He sighed. His body was just too weak to make the shot. Determined to reclaim the school bag, Neil scooted closer to it and saw it held on literally by its strap. It shouldn't be that hard to bring down, he thought, I need an edge. Renewing his attack, the determined boy slowly got to his knees and just sat like that, waiting for the waves of pain in his poor leg to subside. With the pain at a bearable level, he snatched a new stone, aimed like he was throwing a football, then tossed it as hard as he could at his target. The stone hit the mark. The bag swung a little, then fell to the soft soil.

Neil threw his arms up in pure joy. "Yes-ow!" He jerked his injured arm down, cradling the bite mark bleeding through the rag dressings. Neil got a good look at himself and laughed. He felt and looked like a feces frappé. He crawled towards the bag and promptly opened it. He took the medical kit his mom insisted he keep in store and smiled wide. He was so thankful to have something, anything, from home. Placing it aside, he searched for his stone age survival book, On Becoming A Caveman. He stopped rummaging through his bag, then looked up solemnly. Home. In that moment, the full weight of what happened came crashing in. Now that he had something from home as an anchor, he hugged himself. Home. He couldn't keep it bottled in anymore. He broke down into his own arms, soaking his sorry excuse for a shirt in tears. He never wanted to go home more in his life. The intensity which he missed his family made him sick. He would never again complain about taking out the trash, or running errands of any kind. He wished against logic that this was all just a nightmare and mom would wake him up in his messy room to take the trash out. Neil vowed he would jump out of bed and give his mom the closest most endearing hug he could possible muster, then take out all the trash, do all the dishes and clean all the rooms, forever, if only he could just go home. He rested his head on his palms and took a deep breath in. Feeling a little better after venting his system, he wiped his eyes dry, blew his nose on a shred of shirt, composed himself, then continued searching for the book.

Upon finding the book, he also pulled out the remnant of his lunch from last evening: a banana, an apple juice box and two fruit rolls. "I'll eat for weeks!" He sighed, then bit the banana. "Okay, I'm stuck here," he said between chews, "I need a game plan." For instance, he thought, what if more of those things come back? He held his stomach as it grumbled, clearly not satisfied by the meager banana just offered. He held up the book, staring at its title, On Becoming A Caveman. This book was a special single volume work the author composed by combining two of his other essays, On The Survival Skills Of Cavemen and On The Technologies Of The Stone Age. He did this to sell the world's first survival manual centered around mastering a stone age lifestyle, its tactics and technology.

Neil glared at his favorite book while seriously considering the limitations of his available tools:

One protractor;

One compass for making circles on paper;

Seven pencils;

Three pens;

One Ti-84 calculator;

Two tubes of crazy glue;

A metal lunch box;

An apple juice box;

Two fruit rolls;

Some bubble gum;

One toothbrush;

A box of floss;

A small first aid kit. Thank you, mom;

Three text pads with school notes in them;

One scarf;

A small book on identifying edible and medicinal fauna, in addition to the book On Becoming A Caveman, both he used in his history presentation;

One fresh button up plaid shirt, to his relief;

One Pair of clean jeans. Thank god;

Two dollars in quarters, for the boat man;

His wallet filled with useless cards and paper money;

One ravaged shirt;

One pair of bloody jeans;

An old pair of diesel shoes;

And, one seriously screwed Human.

Thankfully, after having to deal with Blake and his crap for what felt like half his life, Neil learned to travel heavy and prepare for the worst ahead of time. Neil laughed at the astoundingly ridiculous realization that Blake's influence inadvertently made Neil's disastrous day just a little easier. Neil's smile soured into a slow frown. He didn't have much to work with. If he wished to survive, he had to master the arts of his stone age ancestors, to reawaken the power of rock, wood, and bone. What else was he supposed to do? He had no knife, no matches for fire, no actual tools of any kind. He had the river for clean water and some berries, but that's not much to live on. Understanding his situation, he slowly got up to crawl. He ate some more huckleberries, then went to drink from the brook. As he drank, a fish swam by. The brook, at its deepest, seemed like two feet; he watched a school of brook trout fight the moderate current. He imagined one cooking on a fire and his stomach grumbled.

Neil loved fishing, or fish in general. His father would take him on fishing trips once every year; and, god, he would trade anything for a rod and some bait right now. If only he could catch just one trout, his hunger pains might stop. He looked around for ideas. Maybe if he sharpened a stick and made a spear? One problem with that idea: he needed a knife to make one. He returned to his would-be campsite and opened On Becoming A Caveman for a refresher on the special stones required for tool making. Neil turned to chapter one, reading with a smile:

On Becoming A Caveman, by Manley Irons:
Chapter One: Making Stone Tools:
It all began with the knife. A simple stone flake sharp enough to cut hide snowballed into a hunting party armed with spears, flint arrows, and knives. Great mammoths and predators alike trembled before the hunter and his mighty spear. So, it's fair to continue the tradition and begin with making our first knife. Make no mistake, no tool will ever give you control over nature; the purpose of the tool is to shape her processes to work around you, even with you. In this chapter, you will learn the art of taming the untamed by way of the tool. Only by mastering the art of tool making will you take your first step in surviving the wild.

"Ah, I need either quartz, agate, obsidian, or flint. Flint and quartz should be common enough." Neil put the book down and inspected the brook's pebble shoreline. The one legged boy couldn't walk with his crutch gone. First, he had to find a new walking stick. He looked around carefully and spied a viable replacement near the tree line, a large forked broken branch. Slowly, he took the branch and broke off the twigs and sticks. It wasn't as nice as the last one; but, it worked. Neil stood, returned to the shoreline and gathered some blade shaped white and brown stones. He sat himself on a stone by the shore and got to work. He needed to take a simple rounded rock called a hammer and chip away the material to get a sharp edge. Neil took a rough flint blade and gave it a good strike with his hammer. Sure enough, a flake came free. It had a fine sharp edge and point, a Neolithic razor. He worked more flakes off his knife and soon had his edge; all that remained was to knap it. Knapping gives a saw toothed edge which added strength and longevity to a blade. Plus, it looked awesome. After an hour of work, he had a fine edged blade that resembled an arrowhead the length of his middle finger. He needed two more things to complete the knife: a handle and cordage to assemble all the pieces.

Neil left the shoreline in search of a nice thick stick. Naturally, the forest floor was full of them; wincing as he knelt down for one, he heard some noise from the thickets nearby. His full attention snapped at the tree line. He stayed there, kneeling on the fallen leaves and cool earth, listening, hoping it was just the wind. Several minutes passed; the sound did not return. Cautiously, he sat back down at his work station beside the brook and worked while taking quick glances at the trees and thickets for movement. He made himself a stone chisel from some basalt, clumsy as it was, it worked. Cutting a good piece off the stick with the chisel was easy, but the rest proved to be quite difficult and time consuming. He had to slowly whittle the wood down using the chisel and several quartz razors to smooth the surface, saving the flint blades for the knife to be. Neil's hands were raw and tired before long; he had yet made lashings and already he needed a break, to his dismay.

Neil sucked it up and continued to whittle the stick down to a somewhat handle shape. Satisfied, he placed a flint flake in the middle of the handle and split it, then gently pulled it apart a little more by hand. He placed the knapped blade in the gap and grinned at the results of his first attempt at a stone knife.

"Great. I just need cordage." Neil required saplings, long grass, or vine for cordage. He looked out to the forest, then to his bum leg. Limping around the clearing was one thing, but through the woods to get saplings with those wooden things out there? "No way." He shook his head. "Not without a weapon." He had no tall grass in the clearing, nor any vines. Sighing, he made lashings out of shreds from his tattered shirt. He dulled the sharp butt of the blade to keep the lashings safe and tied a small nice knot. He slyly used some of his crazy glue to make the bond stronger. Neil wiggled the blade on its handle and laughed joyously when it felt solid and sharp. All he had to do was use this same technique to make a spear. Now, he could fashion a sharp stick to spear fish. With his knife, chisel and hammer, he had the beginnings of something good: he could build, defend himself and eventually hunt game bigger than fish. Things were finally looking up for Neil, until the bushes parted behind him, making a loud noise. Neil jumped, turned his head to the noise and saw a pair of those terrifying green glowing eyes staring right back at him.

Part Three

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Another of those abominations lumbered lazily out the tree line, sniffing the air and the ground. A small mushroom grew on its back and less moss covered its form than the last beast Neil smashed in the face. Once its glowing savage eyes locked onto the boy, the bark on its body tensed like flesh. The eyes narrowed; its mouth opened with a toothy scowl. A low growl crept from its musty throat. Another freak joined in from the thicket, responding to the animalistic warning of its pack mate, followed by another, and another. Suddenly, one beast blossomed into a pack of five xenomorphic predators, glaring and snarling at the outnumbered boy with vicious intent, a five petaled flower of inextricable death and inconceivable alienage.

Still sitting, Neil's face ran pale and cold sweat beaded upon his clammy skin, eyes locked onto the savage force now strategizing their assured victory over him. He clinched the newfangled stone knife hard enough that his hand shook with terrific pressure. Petrified, he realized he wouldn't stand a chance against five of those monsters, after barely surviving one. They would attack; he could counter and perhaps even kill one; but, he would ultimately lose and meet a grisly end. To fall thousands of feet from the sky and survive, only to be torn to shreds by aliens later that day, Neil almost laughed at the morbidity of his situation. Life has a strange sense of humor.

With eyes closed, he prepared for the inevitable. Reopening them to meet the grim touch of the reaper, the pack of creatures vanished. Neil's eyes widened at the sudden change of the situation with shock, confusion, trepidation, and relief. What? Where...? He quickly checked his surroundings in all directions and found no sign of the threat he believed existed, which exacerbated the situation further.

Did I hallucinate that? Neil's mouth dropped open, aghast that his sanity might be slipping, which could turn his position from desperate to impossible. Then, in a sudden flash, he remembered Ms. Abernathy's lecture on the First World War in history class a month before. She mentioned the unique type of psychological trauma the soldiers suffered fighting the War to End All Wars: she called it Shellshock. This disorder caused, among other things, paranoia, and sudden terror inducing hallucinations. I'm suffering from Shellshock. The traumatized boy realized the beast he battled left both physical and psychological scars before retreating into the shadows with a nasty wound of its own.

Suddenly, movement caught his gaze. He trained his sight on its origin and spied a smaller version of those creatures, standing near the tree-line where the pseudo-pack had gathered. Unlike the phantasms from before, this creature was real, tangible. It was small in comparison to the last beasts, the size of a pup, or youngling even. The petite wolf looked up at him, its small mossy head down cast, fearfully, while hiding the tail between its quivering legs. Instead of the sharp menacing eyes of its matured kin, the pup's eyes were large, rounded, and not at all intimidating; even its ocular glow was softer. Neil found the creature strangely cute; regardless, it was clearly petrified of him; and, he was afraid of its parents, which had yet to reveal themselves.

Both stood in place. One shaking on its paws, and the other sitting and praying, each stared at each other in complete silence, unwilling to move: the pup not wanting to provoke the big scary thing, and the poor shell-shocked boy afraid of dealing with the pup's parents by vexing it to call for them. This standoff lasted for several minutes. Neil remained in one piece, no angry mother or father appeared.

Taking in a breath to calm himself, the boy took his crutch, stood, and placed one step forward. The pup squealed a loud pitched whimper and barked at him. It was more like a torrent of sharp squeaks than proper barks; but, Neil got the message. It didn't like him getting close one bit, which was completely understandable. Even though Neil was just a boy, he must've been nightmare fuel for a pup no more than three or four weeks old.

Still, Neil knew exactly the stakes of having the offspring of a predator remain nearby. If the parents found it in his camp, the repercussions would prove deadly. He didn't survive falling from the sky just to get mauled in his sleep during the night. Life's ridiculous humor be damned! Neil had no choice but to remove the pup as fast as possible, preferably, by scaring it away. Neil tossed a stone at the pup with the intention of missing just enough to frighten it. The rock hit a bed of leaves near the youngling's footing; it whelped and stumbled on itself as it wobbled away from the scary noise; however, the pup remained stubborn and just stared at him, sitting back on its legs.

Neil rose from his seat and flailed his crutch like a madman, yelling, "Get out of here!" The pup cocked its head at the odd noisy thing swinging a stick. The creature remained put and Neil sighed, his blood beginning to boil. "That's it!" The agitated boy, hell-bent on scaring that puppy away, limped as fast as he could toward the young wolf. "I'm going to throw you out!" He sharply inhaled and screamed, scaring the poor thing into a frenzied retreat as it fumbled back into the bushes. Neil stood his ground, glaring at the small hole in the leaves left behind, seeing if it attempted to return. It didn't.

Neil released his breath, relieved. He hoped the youngling found its parents at a safe distance from him. He returned to his tool making and finished fashioning both a proper hunting and fishing spear. The difference being the former had a flint blade tightly wrapped and glued to the shaft; whereas, the fishing spear had its tip split into four sharp prongs held open with two secured wedges. With the work finally done, Neil looked at his raw hands and winced upon closing them. They stung and ached; the muscles and tendons begged him for a rest. The boy agreed, gifting their hard work with a quick dip in the brook and a good while of sweet motionlessness. He perched himself under his tree, apparently it was, since he gravitated to it whenever he rested.

As his mind wandered, Neil watched the thoughts dance around for a moment. Typically, pictures of home, and Trisha, primarily the look on her face as he fell into the portal with Helen, assaulted his mind. Helen. Neil repeated mentally contemptuously. The emotions rushed in like a flood, anger, frustration, disappointment, hate. This is all her fault. He spit on her mental image. If Helen didn't suck at portals, he would still be home, still be with his family, his studies, and with his one and only friend.

The spiteful boy looked around the emptiness surrounding him; and there, the loneliness found him. He said to himself he was alone not long ago; but, to say something is one thing; to live that something is entirely different. While Neil was so immersed in his chaos, his aloneness didn't have time to mature. Here, under the large dead tree, the lonely boy sat, hands raw, leg disabled, arms and face torn up. Disease was a serious factor now, what with all his modern comforts having been stripped away from him at the speed of gravity, like great hygiene being a possibility.

To the list of troubles, Neil added gathering, eating, security, tool making, navigation, and keeping warm to the odds stacked against him. First of all, he must deal with the more serious and immediate problem of infection. It was a lot for an injured boy to handle in one midday. How can I do all this before nightfall? His head fell back, resting it on the rough bark of the tree. Its texture was smooth as silk compared to the objectively rough road ahead. Even if I survive today, Neil reasoned, one wrong step later, provided I don't die of a fever first, and I end up dead, one way or another.

Neil was not a religious boy, and made no attempts in his life to satisfy the dogmatic gods of his world. He held little hope for a place in heaven for himself, nor in hell. Neil was far too busy studying to spend his hours before a cloister. Yet, he never followed the belief that an inherently good being would punish his child for enriching itself with knowledge rather than grace. In fact, to Neil, knowledge was just another form of grace, for learning had comforted him more than the prospect of salvation. What would a mortal do with salvation anyway, if he didn't have the knowledge to use it properly? Neil always felt that salvation would have to wait until he learned how to save himself first.

Nevertheless, the philosophical boy digressed his thoughts on the motions of salvation and the opinions on knowledge versus grace; his thoughts turned to a more nostalgic place. Neil remembered his younger years, when he read his first book on the stone age while at the local library. It hooked him immediately. So immersed was the boy in its riches, he took it and all its sister volumes home. During his research, he discovered the loneliness naturally present in the pursuit of knowledge. It seemed, the more he learned the less people he knew or the less the other children at school gravitated to him. Yet, this brought him no harm. Since he was an only child, his experience of life had been one of loneliness; he took recess in the school's library, then played by himself at home after school, and ate in his room accompanied only by his books, where his fantasies rarely trailed to having sleepovers. It was not until he met Trisha Morgan did this behavior change. Neil remembered the moment he met his best friend as crisply as the titan Epimetheus remembers molding humanity from clay.

Neil recalled when his family had just moved to the quaint town of Ashtabula Ohio; and, there he started the first day of his last year of grade school. In the brisk morning, disembarking the bus, he took his first of many steps up to the entrance of the school. It was there, at the edge of the top step, did his brown eyes meet these deep green orbs staring back at him. Her freckled face held a smile that could melt permafrost and her red hair trailed in the playful gusts of the wind. She held her hand out and introduced herself as Trisha Morgan. Their friendship was immediate that day and they remained together ever since, that was, until Helen ruined everything seven years later.

Suffice it to say, before Trisha, Neil had no use of friends, nor of the concept. His books were all he needed and wanted. Knowing and understanding were all the friends he required. The other children were just a distraction from his mission to know the stone age; but, the more Neil saw Trisha and got to know the strange and wonderful girl, the more he wanted to see her and learn about her. She was like an infinite book that wrote itself. Every new page was freshly written and it added to a greater story. The involvement of the two friends in the story was an adventure where Neil found himself not only in the journey, but a part of it. He was in a role as pivotal as the sun was to the day, and Trisha's role as essential as the moon was to the night.

She always defended him when he got picked on by his peers for his hermit like behavior; and, slowly, Neil began to change and open his shut heart and concrete mind to his new friend. Trisha taught the boy hermit what true friendship was with her strength, intellect, kindness, and imagination. Trisha and Neil became extensions of each other's families. Thus, true friendship is the extension of family, not merely knowledge, tolerance, or activity between two beings, but a bonding of their souls. That kind of knowledge, Neil realized, no book could teach. That is, of course, if one didn't consider life itself as a book. It was a gem of truth he would never forget.

Digressing further in the surrounding savage ambiance, the nostalgic boy stared up at the passing sky, renewing his contemplation on the immediate issues of survival; then, Neil noticed a peculiarity above. The sun was over him, right in the middle of the sky, oddly enough. School normally ends around 4 P.M. in the afternoon. It's been at least three hours since and it should be dark soon. So, why is the sun acting like it's still midday? Just as he wished he could check what time it was, Neil chuckled at himself for almost forgetting his watch. The boy looked at his wrist and, amazingly, it was still strapped on, but smashed and useless. However, the arms pointed to 4:40 P.M. It is summer; so, the days are longer than in the winter by several hours. Yet, the sun shouldn't still be that high. The boy shook his head and let the subject go. He must have made a mistake somewhere. It's not like the sun's broken, that is, provided it was the sun he knew.

Possible extraterrestrial solar mysteries aside, his stomach growled, exacerbating his troubles further by reminding him how hungry he was. Yet, the stabbing stomach pains did little to inspire in the injured boy any motivation of catching dinner. He was so tired, so dreadfully exhausted; all he wanted was sleep. He almost dosed off upon thinking it, then violently shook himself awake. Focus, he commanded himself; despite fatigue, there was much work left to be done. Yet, he didn't have the time to do everything. He chose only the bare minimum tasks. Neil used one of the text pads, or notebooks if you will, and wrote a check list:

1: Treat wounds,

2: Make a shelter,

3: Build a fire,

4: Catch dinner,

5: Fall into a food coma.

The plan seemed decent enough, considering the circumstances. As far as the infection issue was concerned, Neil needed a means to sanitize his wounds. Without antibiotics, that would likely prove a herculean effort, which is why people in ancient times were more likely to die of infections than most other fatal causes. The higher life expectancy of modern man is due in large part to antibiotics. This knowledge worried the boy further, as he checked the contents of his first aid kit to take stock.

One 4oz bottle of hydrogen peroxide,

Several band-aid packs in three sizes, small, medium, and large,

Four small packages of triple antibiotic ointment (to his relief),

Six packs of aspirin,

Four alcohol preparation wipes,

Three pairs of medical gloves,

One Hot/Cold thermal pack,

Two metal tweezers,

Two proper gauze bandage rolls,

One bandage scissor,

A small roll of duct-tape,

A small role of medical tape,

And a small pamphlet on emergency care procedures.

Neil weighed out the options for sterilizing his wounds. The immediate life sustaining item in his possession was the hydrogen peroxide. It would clean his leg; but, to fight infection over time, he needed the triple antibiotic ointment. He had so little of it, which worried him deeply. If he decided to try and smother his leg injury in a thin layer of precious ointment, there was only enough to do it once, maybe twice. What then? The wound was far too horrific for a single application of peroxide and ointment to have lasting protection against the elements, especially since the boy possessed no means of staying clean. His hygiene options were limited to sun bathing, dirt baths, and rinsing in the brook, the last two being obvious breeding grounds for infectious pathogens, waiting for anything squishy and vulnerable to root into. The thought made Neil's skin crawl with goosebumps of disgust.

Regardless of the future for surviving his wounds, there would be no future to survive if he didn't act immediately and clean his leg and bitten arm. He had to apply the peroxide, which the apprehensive boy knew would hurt badly. Neil took a deep breath, and readied himself, his back firmly pressed into the hard bark of his tree. He opened the peroxide bottle and poured a little on his hands. The fizzing liquid stung his raw palms as he rubbed them clean. Not so bad, he thought, as he gathered the gauze, scissors, tape, and antibiotic ointment. Neil took a stick and bit down on it to help the coming pain. He applied the ointment lightly to the gauze. He would place it over the wound then wrap and quickly tape it secure. The plan was clear, he only required the strength to see it through.

Finally, he steeled himself, then untied the ad hoc bandage around his leg keeping the blood loss at bay. When blood resumed flowing from the wound, the boy immediately felt his stomach sink. His breathing quickened and sweat beaded on his forehead. He felt cold as he fought through the sudden lightheadedness. He poured the peroxide right onto the pooling puncture. His whole body tensed in such pain he couldn't scream; the cry pushed in his closed throat, eliciting a harsh gagging rasp out the mouth. He bit the ends off the stick, leaving a wooden fraction trapped inside the locked shut mouth.

Mere moments passed, which seemed like hours. Everything slowed to a crawl, a painful sluggish drawl of the mind. The boy remained put, locked in a perpetual purgatory as darkness threatened him from the corners of his mind. He nearly fainted, just before the pain subsided enough for his wits to reboot themselves. Neil's mind regained its strength and he looked down to his leg; his eyes widened, the bleeding wasn't as bad as before. He spat the twig out his mouth and applied the fresh genuine bandage. It cradled the injury and sealed his life essence with a precision no impromptu dressing could match.

With that chore dealt with, Neil treated his arm using the same method, which hurt less by comparison. He marked treat wounds off his list. Next was building a shelter. Slowly, gently, he eased himself to his book, On Becoming a Caveman, by Manley Irons, and turned to the chapter regarding shelters. He chose the simplest thing on the list of possible builds, a lean-to. He read the intro:

Chapter Two: Building Shelters:
When faced with the threat of night before a proper settlement was possible, our stone age ancestors erected the humble lean-to, a simple and clever solution to their immediate shelter issue. Lean-tos ranged from a simple branch angled over a tree with a leaf roof supported by sticks, to more complex builds out of beams and stone. Make no mistake! The lean-to may seem trifle compared to the towering superstructures of modern housing; but, in the nakedness of the wild, the line betwixt what is trifle or life sustaining blurs into these simple aspects:
1: Is it warm?
2: Is it dry?
3: Does it shield from the wind (or, is it sturdy)?
4: Does it conceal?

Neil skipped over the greater part of the lengthy introduction of this chapter. He simply didn't have the time to read everything but the bare necessities. He read the instructions for building a lean-to, carefully taking in each depiction of the steps required. For the simplest build, he needed one large branch, several handfuls of large sticks, some roofing material, like twigs and leaves, and something as a wind break, like cedar or pine limbs, in addition to twine for lashing the structure together. Fortunately, there was plenty of twine left from making the tools, as he would just recycle his ruined shirt for this purpose.

Neil marked twine off the list and slowly stood up, crutch under his arm. He decided to get all the easy stuff first. The boy waddled around the clearing. Watching his surroundings carefully, he gathered all the sticks he could carry and placed them at the build site near his tree. He raked leaves with one arm while balancing with the other on his crutch. A dead pine branch made an acceptable rake. Soon, the leaves lied in a neat pile near the sticks. Now, Neil had to tackle the hard parts: amassing some fresh tree limbs, and one large branch.

Neil spied just such a branch several feet away. It looked perfect; unfortunately, the matter of carrying it would prove bothersome. He took a deep breath, leaned to grab it, and pulled. It moved, but his leg and arm cried to stop. He renewed his task by slowly bending his leg just enough so all his pressure was on the crutch, and using the bitten arm as lightly as possible. He was practically a one-legged pirate at this point, a pirate marooned in a vicious woodland, far from his native sea. The thought humored the boy privateer as he realized just how useful a cutlass would be about now. Neil slowly limped, tugging the branch along, hanging as much as he could on his crutch, taking the journey step by step. After a good while of effort, he stood by the build site and set the branch in place. "Thank god." He grimaced, letting his leg down to give it a rest, which rewarded him a shock of pain for his consideration. "Ah! you bitch!" He cursed through his teeth at his new neighbor, anguish, who was proving to be a right bastard.

Sighing, he took the hammer and chisel, whilst wishing he possessed the time and strength to make a stone adze, an axe, or anything more efficient. He gathered low growing pine limbs near the forest edge. Wiping sweat from his head, he noticed these black dots moving up his arm. His eyes widened in horror realizing they were insects, ticks to be exact. "Aaaahh!" He screamed as he furiously flicked the tiny vicious creatures off with his fingers.

Neil deeply scowled in contempt, seeing the pine limbs crawling with the little abominations. "I hate ticks!" He cried out with force, "I hate fucking monsters trying to eat my face! I hate this forest! I hate everything about this place!" The stressed boy sharply inhaled and belted out, "Everything!!" After stripping his clothes as best he could to remove any remaining ticks, he delivered the last of the materials to the build site, and took some time to shrug off the shock of a dozen parasites crawling on his skin and sticking to his wounds.

After calming down, he had to build the thing. Neil looked up to the sky and sighed sullenly. The sun fast reproached his efforts, as it fell with haste; for, the hours run quickly through the busy mind. Time was of the essence. Neil cracked his knuckles and used a stick to dig a small hole for each post. He placed the sticks in the hole and laid them on the branch at a 45-degree angle just as the book suggested, which allows drainage during the rain. Neil used the protractor to ensure accuracy. After tamping the soil around each post with a rock, he thatched the roof with twigs, dead leaves, and the misbegotten fresh pine branches.

Finally, after lashing and double checking everything, Neil beheld his first finished shelter. The relief washing over him felt intoxicating. He was really doing it! He promptly checked his time status, it appeared to be sixish, as best he could tell. He still had to build the fire and catch dinner.

Despite the shelter's boon to his morale, dread renewed in tired little Neil. He was not a religious boy; but, considering he had little more than four hours of daylight before the dominion of night took him, he found a reason to pray. This tenebrous place was hellish enough without the dark cloaking its patient horrors. Even if the pains of his stomach grew unanswered, the boy's endangered life needed the protection of fire.

Wasting no time, he quickly scrambled for his book. Although he built fires by hand before, he didn't have the time to remember, only to be reminded. Turning back to the chapter on shelters, he skipped over the introductions regarding the campsite and the art of fire making. He read only the instructions. There were four methods of primitive fire making discussed in this work: fire sticks, flints, the cord drill, and the pump drill.

Neil drew the strength to carry on from deep within himself, and stood up pitifully. As quickly as possible in his condition, he gathered stones to make a circle on a bare patch of soil. Setting the fire circle, he placed sticks in a tipi shape over a bed of hand crushed dry leaves, as per the book's instructions. Neil shaved up some dry bark and leaf material. He formed it into a nest for an ember, once he made one. The cord or pump drill methods were out of the question at present, that left knocking two flints together, or using fire sticks to make fire. Neil used all his flint to make the tools, and what was left didn't fit the requirements. Since Neil didn't have the time to fumble about the brook for more flint under the darkening shadow of the canopy, he had no choice but to make fire with sticks. He glared at his hands with a sour expression of dread. As if my hands didn't hurt enough. He sighed.

The boy took a few dry sticks befitting what was listed in the book. He scraped the bark off both and split one to form the friction board. He whittled spots in it with a flake for the stick itself, then cut notches on the spots so the punk, hot wood dust, could escape. It was the punk that formed an ember. For the punk to light it, he needed to set the friction board over the tinder nest, while allowing enough space for air flow. He blunted the tip of the stick and simply needed to spin it on the hole in the board until an ember formed. The trick was speed over force to save the hands from injury. It was a little too late for that; but, any respite for the boy's ravaged hands was worth its weight in gold at this point.

Neil held the stick and got to it. After a few passes down rubbing his hands together, a thin wisp of smoke creeped from the board as punk formed. He smiled, remembering how the technique worked as he continued. Once the punk smoked by itself, signaling the presence of an ember, he ceased. Quickly taking the nest, he gently blew the ember to life. He laughed as it took the tender with gusto. "Yes! Burn, you magnificent bastard! Burn!" He promptly fed the tiny fire the bed of crushed leaves in the fire pit. Before long, he had a proper healthy campfire.

It was the Titan Prometheus, brother to Epimetheus, who took fire from the heavens for the benefit of men. With this divine jewel in hand, man rose to prominence in the wilds at such a staggering rate, his power over the Earth rivaled a god. Even though the God principle itself separated Fire from Water for the use of gods and men, Zeus, jealous, afraid, and angered, punished Prometheus for giving man a power equal to a god. Zeus was right to fear this power. Fire not only burned in the hands of men, but also in their minds. It is in the womb that men are born, but thoughts are birthed from the mind, a procreation unbound by physical gender. It is in the mental Fire that truth is distilled from fiction, that true ideas are given life and become the children of any reasoning being. Once man realized this connection, there grew from the slime of primordial thought the Sages and Wise men of the ages. From their minds a child was born, Science.

The superstitions of men where cast into their mental Fire; and, Science saw to the ultimate demise of the old gods in their hearts, for Fire is illuminating, and light its progeny. Where ever man looked for the gods, this light exposed not the scorn of an immortal, neither their games and childish grudges over the imperfect ephemeral things below them, nor their spotty logic, but only nature, only primordial law, only unfoldment. Men only saw the fleeting garment of lady Truth upon the solar winds, of which to this day he hazards to grasp. So, men buried flawed Olympus, trading the hateful gods, their bloodied temples, and their undeserved sacrifices, for the alembic, the telescope, and hard data. The bigotry and vague shadows of the past gave way to the unbiased rule of law. Science, once the child of men, became his god. No Greek god lives today. They are now but ashes in the Fire of the minds of men and dust under the feet of his new god. It seems, the martyred Titan had the final laugh over the mighty Jove, leaving his Fire bearing children to live on and forge their own destinies, limited only by the Fire of their minds.

Neil pulled up a log and sat before his creation, a boy and his fire. The heat of its embrace, and its memorizing movement, allured him into a blissful trance. Within the newly born fire, Neil found hope, and a friend. He couldn't believe the power of such a simple and common substance; it was like he had fallen into a pit, only to find a haven amongst its horrors. For the first time since the incident, he felt optimistic.

Still, only one task remained undone: catch a fish. Again, Neil wished to anything listening for a fishing rod; he could make a pull rod using a stick, floss for line, and fashion a hook via a needle from his first aid kit; but, he didn't think wasting floss in a land devoid of dentistry was a wise idea. No, he had his fishing spear, for what it was worth. He will make it work; he had to. Time was growing shorter by the second.

Neil rose again weakly to his sore feet, the pressure of the old tight shoes encasing them intensifying the pain. You know what? Neil returned to the ground and took his shoes and socks off, which felt incredible. He didn't fully realize how much he's grown since last year until now. He suspected his favorite shoes didn't fit anymore since last month. He should've donated them then; now, trashing them seemed more fitting; however, he set them aside instead, thinking their materials may prove useful later.

Finally, Neil thought, something that doesn't hurt. The cold bare grass and dusty soil felt great as he limped to the brook side. Fishing spear in hand, he watched the darkening still surface of the brook's pool. The low-pressure zone of the eroded soft sandy soil of the stream side gave purchase to a host of brook trout, big and small.

All the hungry boy had to do was wait for them to swim closer. One trout of acceptable size braved the shallows to feed on the crawdads scurrying over the creek bed. He readied his four-pronged spear, poised to finally quell the stomach pains. Seeing the spear tip angled on the fish's image reminded him that spear fishing was more art than science, with trial and error being its main technique. Unfortunately for the famished boy, this may mean he could go hungry for anything hardier than berries tonight. He hadn't trained in spear fishing beyond that one time two years ago on that camping trip. He didn't catch anything then, which only added to the stakes of the moment.

Patience he told himself, as he felt his hunger nearly force his hand prematurely. The trout, whether knowingly or not, proceeded to tease the boy by swimming closer only to dart away, then return and retreat again. This fish continued to dance this way about the limits of his spear's effective reach for an excruciatingly prolonged time. This display of aquatic mockery almost pushed him into a frenzy, where the boy seriously had trouble fighting the urge to throw the spear at the damned thing.

Come on, Neil, keep it togeth-" he ceased his thought midway as the trout darted towards him to gobble up a crawdad just feet away. His eyes widened. His pulse quickened. Time slowed as he took aim at the fish's image, and he thrust the spear into the water. Scales flashed silver just before a cloud of muck and sand exploded from the point of impact. Neil held the spear in place; but, he had a bad feeling about whether his spear had connected. To his exasperation, the suspicion proved correct. The muck cleared, revealing an empty, dulled, fishing spear. "Damn it!" He cried out in frustration.

The night can be a savage and cruel beast for a child of the sun, when surrounded by an ever-salivating green sea of ferocious ambiance. Neil would soon face the fiendish night unfed if he didn't catch something within the hour. This he could not allow. The campfire had been burning for over an hour, its stony edges before thronged brilliantly in lapping flames, now reduced to a smoldering coal pile awaiting its next meal. The sun lost its dominion over the heavens. Only twilight remained to caress Neil with worries and promises of the coming terrors birthed by moonlight. The insects clicked and sung, beasts belted, and howled in the wild distance. Before the strategically cornered boy, the twilight left just light enough to see the vague shadows of aquatic life in the cool stillness of the pool . With a sigh, he wisely conceded that dining on fish tonight was no longer an option. Instead, he carefully gathered several crawdads and drew some water from the brook to boil in his lunch box.

He placed a large rock in the coals to set the lunch box on, then fed the fire to heat it faster. It wasn't the best tool for cooking, his lunch box; but, it did the job. Soon, he had a handful of fresh cooked crawdads and drinkable water. He frowned while sipping the musty crawdad water after devouring the tails like it was his religion. The food was sparse, didn't offer much nutrition, and tasted fairly foul; but, it was better than starving. Hunger is a truly powerful spice.

He stared into their shells and saw this yellow green soup within. He heard of this stuff. Some people say the cooked soupy guts within crustaceans were edible; however, those people eat strange things. Curiously, he smelled it and recoiled. It smelled just like the school's basement, musty, and gross.

Figuring he wasn't in a position to complain about food, he at least tried it. Dipping his finger in, he sampled the repulsive yellow goop. Once it touched his tongue, his eyes widened as a dingy basement taste coated his mouth. He spat out the rancid vile stuff. Quickly, he ate a fruit roll and rolled it around his mouth to murder the unholy flavor assaulting his senses with extreme prejudice. "Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, that was disgusting!" Neil threw the cooked crawdad remains into the fire. "Evil spirits be gone!"

As the excitement of unsavory curiosity waned, the night grew from twilight to darkness. Now engulfed in the sinister shadows, Neil gathered himself by the tenuous fire light. The forest by day held an intimidating aura; but, at night it transformed into a hideous presence. From the corners of his vision, the boy swore he saw movement, only to look and spy nothing tangible. His nerves began to crawl with paranoia. Neil was not superstitious; yet, the presence of these eldritch frights encroaching him from the shadows felt as real as the beast that tore his arm. Their sudden and abrupt visit perturbed him more by the second. Suddenly, the forest had become horrifically transcendent, with its own psychological hunger.

Were those green eyes in the tenebrous thickets he spied? Of course, upon further scrutiny, these taunting apparitions vanished, leaving only more fear behind. Neil hugged the flint tipped spear and backed away towards his lean-to for asylum.

The feral night of the woodlands offered no clemency for the fears of the injured, forlorn survivor. Neil listened, gripping his weapons tightly. The nocturnal beasts reanimated at the call of the shadows; cloaked in fresh darkness, the grotesque hell spawn announced themselves with ungodly howls, belts, grunts, muffled steps, and displaced rustles of desiccated vegetation. Neil heard things from the dark woods he's never heard before, unnamable animals with alien voices.

Poor frightened Neil, before, merely wounded and stranded in some strange untamed place under the sun, now held hostage and encircled by the searching mouths of the expanding night. Tears flowing down his eyes, Neil the terrified, hunkered down in his lean-to. Hoping the fire would keep whatever creatures were making those sounds at bay. He clung to his ephemeral empire of leaves and pointy sticks for cover from the animate horrors shuffling outside, searching, smelling, waiting, watching. The boy wished he could go home, to abandon this evil place.

Neil realized he'd made his bed within a living nightmare.

The boy concealed the entrance to his shelter with a stick and pine limb cover suggested in Manley's book, then tried his best to rest. Sleep did not come to Neil easily, despite how heavy his eyes felt. The forest had spared his body; but, it did not spare his soul. The young tender thing was besieged by imaginary terrors within, which outstripped the tangible ones lurking just outside. Neil continued in a bitter purgatory between sleep and desperate, timorous, wakefulness; but, sleep eventually took his mind from the abomination cannibalizing itself beyond the thin pine cover.

Part Four

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Sleep, to slumber, to dream, to recluse oneself in a moment of bodily pause for regeneration and the recentering of the mind, it is here the winged god of dreams, Morpheus, carries the god of sleep, Hypnos, to their home in the dream world. In this abstract plane, between the physical and metaphysical worlds, Morpheus molds the visions of mortals into dreams. In his aetherial hands, mortals are unbound by the fetters of tangibility, allowing freedom of one’s identity, thought, and growth. In sleep, man can unfold separated from the horrors and worries of the flesh. He could fly with the birds, or truly allow himself free expression, safe from chastisement by the dreamless, the visionless, and the physically biased.

As the dreams of men took shape by Morpheus, so too did the nightmare form at the hands of his brother, Phobetor. This god of sinister visions lurks in the shadows of the dream world. Unlike his brother, the nightmare god's gift to men is the incubus. It is this foul progeny of Phobetor that manifests as a lynching mob to hunt the free man, or wreaks havoc upon the flyer and sends him falling to his death.

In contrast to nightmares, the dreams of Morpheus inspire the divine creative aspect within men. The god reminds man of the truth in good, and to aspire to it; because, he gives men the ability to see the beauty of their own minds and the relevancy of imaginative thinking. However, the nightmares of Phobetor grants men the ability of knowing his inner destructive nature, to stay clear of unrealistic fantasies or habits, and that all things must end in time. These gifts are largely ignored, or feared, even hated by some. It is common for mortals to retreat into their own ignorance, thinking themselves safe in its suffocating embrace from the pain of their nightmares, and, on occasion, even from the blinding scope of their dreams. Such miss the point, leaving the lessons of either polarity unheard.

However, in a more miraculous stroke of universal creativity, between these gods lies a balance of vision, an Elysium of the mind where men can unfold unhindered by the bias of either god during slumber. In this Elysium, man can lucidly dream and freely create with his soul.

But, alas, Neil did not find himself in Elysium this night. Unfortunate though it may be, unutterable terrors stalked him, even into his brightest imaginable places. No matter where the youth fled within his visions, Phobetor chased just behind, practically breathing his acrid breath down Neil’s neck. From the dark god’s sultry breath birthed a baneful incubus.

Neil's mind, although beautified and ordered, was by no means perfected. Beauty can be corrupted and order disordered. By some twisted irony the plant mind had served a crude barrier from the darker thing sleeping under its toxic roots. Now with the plant defeated, this thing reanimates unhindered.

Deep within the traumatized psyche of the boy, recently freed to illuminate the void of the unknown by his own candle light, the man’s humble flame suddenly extinguished. The house of reason found itself free of the plant mind, only to face its revived stygian arch nemesis, madness.

With the tenuous candle light murdered, darkness swallowed the man like a hungry mouth. Shielded under a suffocating gloom from the light of reason, madness took command, marshaling incubuses, shadows, ghouls, and abominations of thought against the house of man. The twisted being commanded the chaotic force to attack the unsuspecting boy, to sink into the man’s mind like teeth and shroud in darkness the beautiful, the good, and the lawful housed within.

Within his newly adorned house, the man peered out his regal window. His gilded heart quickened as the eyes widened aghast beholding the ancient enemy besieging his home! Freed from its neurotic plant captor, madness eyed over the boy's mind like a prized treat. The man stiffened in his stance, watching the foul scene unfold as abominations tore at his walls from the outside.

With the plant mind's influence gone, Neil had gained control over his own fate; but, such control is unfounded in a boy. Neil did not possess the discipline, the wisdom, nor the knowledge to face his opposite ego and win. It is not a matter of control over fate, but of self control. The thought of enduring the terrors of surviving the feasting savagery of the wild alone would prove a formidable solvent of willpower, however ardent; but, to actually live that terror would break most.

If Neil wished to thwart the attack upon him, bring balance to his dreams, and, consequently, his mind, he must brave the incubuses, dispel the shadows, fight off the ghouls, and banish the abominations. Neil must rekindle his candle, or be swallowed by madness. As if his troubles were not already most dire in the world without, the youth must complete this seemingly impossible task from within, alone. Who else could share this burden but himself?

Shaking his head somberly, the man glared at the enemy once more before barricading the fortress. Preparing himself, he donned his robes to meet his old foe, for the last time. Turning on his heels, the man hurried towards the exit. He must make haste, for not even madness could afflict a mind recently beautified so quickly. No, something more immediately dangerous and tangible helped birth his old foe, something that weakened Neil considerably; but, what? was the question that tantalized the man's curiosity while challenging his patience.

This affliction spread unknown through the boy's body and soul as his mind battled for its life. He awoke inside a dark space, seemingly trapped in a mental void.

"Hello?" Neil broke the unnerving silence he found himself in. This was all quite strange. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his lean to. Now, he was conscious in a total darkness. "Hello?" he asked again, then a small opening cast a faint light through the dark. Neil crawled on his belly into what he hoped was the exit. The cramped tenuous tunnel closed in on him as he forced his way inch by inch to the dim light at the end. The boy stopped periodically to breathe and assure himself he wasn't trapped within the tight space. All he could do was crawl deeper, hoping the light was his escape.

As the war between reason and madness raged within the boy’s mind, the fogs of war settled about Neil's dream, cloaking in confusion all that was once clear. The boy emerged from his crawling and stood in a desolate space. Now fully birthed from the suffocating tunnel, Neil advanced a few steps, then felt a terrible presence pulling him into a shadowy mist; occasional groans and moans elicited from the curious vapor as it encircled him like a hungry predator before it strikes. Turning his head every which way to see through the unsolicited veil inspired only some unutterable despondency in him, for there was nothing to see but this vaporous gloom.

"Where am I? What is this?" Neil furrowed his brow and looked everywhere again, spying no changes.

Suddenly, familiar disembodied voices called to him from the opaque emptiness. Sugar. Was that his mother?

Neil recognized her voice. “Mom?” He called, looking about confused yet excitedly for her; however, he saw nothing, just the vague outlines of his deepest desires in the embracing mist. He tried to wave the haze away angrily, in vain. Frustratingly, it stuck to his senses like a sultry curse.

Neil. That sounded like his father.

“Dad!?” He turned, swerved on his heels and inspected everything, which heralded much of the same as before in these vapors of insecurity.

Neil. Sugar. both phantom voices called to him from the fog.

Frenzied Neil ran into the unknown towards where he believed the calls originated. He ran, and ran; nothing changed; the fog revealed only more dank emptiness, and a false hope of reunion with his loved ones. Panicked, he screamed, ”where are you guys!?” The voices silenced, leaving him alone in the hot loveless embrace of the misty gloom. Then, his panic evolved into hysteria.

He bolted into the haze, running full sprint with no destination in mind but to escape whatever this place was; yet, no matter how fast he moved, nor how long, the same environment remained, devoid of all except the suffocating, maddening, damnable haze.

Neil ceased his futile efforts of escape. Shaking on his feet, he held himself for at least some meager comfort. Shivering in a cold sweat, he fell to his trembling knees. “What have you done to me, Trisha?” He rhetorically asked, as he felt so alone and so afraid of the feeling. He chuckled in nervous humor for the sake of laughter over tears, as the situation grew more dire by his quickening heart beat. “It’s funny: I used to take comfort in solitude. I wished for it, even day dreamed of it sometimes; now, it’s becoming my worst enemy. I don't want to be alone anymore, and wish for someone, anyone, to talk to." Grimacing, the boy shut his eyes, then clutched at the wave of nausea in his fluttering stomach. “I want my mom. I want to go home.”

Suddenly, the mist parted before him, revealing a curiously lit door of suspicious origin at the center of an ancient mossy cobble wall which faded into the surrounding fog. Even the wooden portal itself was weathered and splintered by age. The door’s handle moved, creaking as the motion shook the ancient dust off its rusted texture. It slowly opened with a terrible squeal of unloved iron hinges, exposing a void of the darkest ebony within the frame. Neil narrowed his eyes to see inside it, to no avail. Only the thick blackness within greeted his curiosity. The inky nothingness of the ajar portal consumed the suffocating mist's tenuous light like a demon devours sin. Undaunted by the light swallowing void, Neil stood and approached to better explore this eldritch door.

Just as the boy could virtually place a hand on the splintered door frame, a shadowy figure stirred within the otherwise lifeless nothing. Affeared and surprised, Neil withdrew himself to a safer distance from the living void, watching in terrible amazement as the figure birthed itself out the dark entrance. The being stood several feet taller than Neil. A full black robe cloaked its frame. Its head was lowered and the cloak sufficiently shielded its identity.

The astounded boy remained frozen in place, too disturbed to move. He simply stared with unblinking eyes.

The figure lifted its head and extended a singular arm. Upon the full extension of the head and arm, the cloak’s cover failed, unveiling a skeletal hand and a bare skull with inky pits for empty eye sockets. The reaper held its open bony palm to Neil beckoningly, saying to him in a terrible eldritch tone, ”home.”

Mortified, Neil screamed and fled from the being of death and into the vapor’s protection. He ran, and ran, fleeing death for what felt like an hour. Finally ceasing his escape, he looked about the mists. Spying no reaper, Neil sighed in blissful relief. It seemed he thwarted death’s hand by disappearing into the uncertainty.

The tired boy seated himself on the barren earth to catch his breath, and wondered what the reaper meant by home: perhaps, that he belonged with the dead? Is that why he can't escape the mist? No. He shook his head defiantly of such an unhealthy conjecture. I can still find a way out!

The boy pushed himself to his feet and continued his odyssey through the sultry mist. And so, Neil walked. He walked, hiked, and stepped. The minutes turned to hours; and, several hours of wandering, he spied two outlines in the mist. Upon careful inspection, he saw the smiling faces of his parents with their hands extended to take him away.

Gasping in glee, he rushed towards them, arms outstretched and eyes watering, only to see their form vaporize into thin air. "What?!" He yelped, scanning his surroundings for signs of where they went. Then, he saw himself standing a ways behind him, muttering something.

"What is going on here?" he breathlessly asked to himself. Wiping his eyes, he drew closer, for he could not hear his double from such a distance over his pounding heart. Finally, he heard the foul whispering of his look alike.

"I'm going to die here." it said, then turned to meet Neil's gaze. "I'm going to die here."

Speechless, Neil promptly retreated a few steps as the twin burst into fire like a torch.

"I'm burning up! I'm sick!" it frantically repeated, screeching and yelling as it turned to ashes before the boy.

Once the unsettling spectacle ended, wide eyed Neil took what remained of his wits and resumed his wandering about the mist. More hours waned and those matured to what seemed like a day of nonstop meandering through the hot fog.

In this forlorn odyssey, ghostly figures materialized to taunt him or whisper messages of some encroaching doom, none of which made any sense. The unholy phenomenon only discouraged Neil more as sweat drenched him in this suffocating miasma. The temperature felt like it increased with every hour. "Why is it so...hot?" Neil wiped his brow and sighed in burden from the heat's heaviness.

"Hey, Romeo." suddenly resounded as a figure materialized before the lost boy.

Neil deadpanned, recognizing who it was. "You've got to be shitting me."

"Remember our deal? Or, should I pay Trisha a visit?" Those familiar despicable blue eyes impatiently stared him down.

"No, no, noooo, not Blake!" Cringing, Neil glared at the frowning face of his enemy, before pointing a finger to him threateningly. "If you go anywhere near her, I'll rip your head off!"

"Oh yeah!? I've tackled thoughts heavier than you." Blake opened his arms wide. "Take your best shot, weakling!"

Neil attacked, fists ready. The ground, however, clinched around the boy's ankles and held him within arms reach of Blake.

Blake laughed then socked Neil hard enough his vision blurred as he tumbled to the ground.

"You cheating basta-" Neil lamented before Blake held him down by the throat.

"Things aren't fair in this world, loser!"

Neil struggled to win the fight; but, Blake was too strong and held him fast. The choking boy's struggles were in vain.

Blake's face, devoid of emotion as he pressed on Neil, leaned closer to whisper. "She's only your friend out of pity. Trisha's soft like that. Frankly, squirt, you're too weak to have real friends, let alone survive out here. You are going to die, small-fry." Blake stood up, letting Neil go.

Gasping for air, Neil stumbled to his feet. "I...hate...you."

"Piff, you're the one who can't protect your girl. Hell, you can't even protect you!" Blake flipped him off. "Hate yourself, jackass."

"I'm in hell." Neil shook his head to shut out everything. "This is hell."

"You don't know what hell is." Blake sighed, then stretched in place. "Before you're dead, don't worry about Trisha." He gestured to himself with a thumb and a wink. "I'll take care of her for ya, scout's promise."

Shaking in pure anger, Neil just glared at his foe with a blood curdling stare.

Blake laughed one last time, before vanishing into the mist.

Neil's abdomen turned with dragonflies as terrible thoughts birthed in his mind: of him rotting in a ditch in this hellish forest, of Trisha unprotected, and that asshat getting to her. Furiously knocking his skull with knuckles clinched white, Neil hysterically rejected such an idea.

Neil the desperate scowled at the mists around him. This sultry, thick, and asphyxiating vapor pressed on his mind from all sides like a thumb upon a ripe berry. It spawned horrible memories and mocked him with his desires and fears. It won't let him go and he finally admitted it to himself.

The stressed boy, holding his head between quaking hands, desperately tried to calm his panic, saying, “none of this is real. It's going to be okay. I will close my eyes and count to three. When I open them, I’ll be home.” Neil did so. One. Two. Three. His young brown eyes opened. At last, the mist was gone. He stood at his campsite in the clearing, with night still shrouding the forest and wisps of gentle moonlight barely cutting through the thick evergreen canopy.

Tears of utter joyous relief streamed from the boy's eyes as he fell to his knees, kissing the grass patched soil in reverence of his rescue from the unholy fog. He hugged the earth, giving silent thanks to it. Sitting on the ground, with a generous grin planted on his face, his bliss slowly waned as he looked about the campsite. Some of the forest's colored textures shifted like light beams under water. The air felt unnaturally still and the harsh heat remained unchanged. Something was still wrong.

Perplexed, Neil paused to think and analyze these curious oddities. After moments of comparison between this place and the previous hell, a reasonable idea came to him. Am I dreaming? The skeptical youth approached and reached a hand for a tree to test this hypothesis. Upon touching its rough surface, he found, to his astonishment, the trunk bent under his weight like putty. Neil’s eyes widened at this marvelous discovery. “This is all just a nightmare!" Gasping in sudden realization, he laughed. "Of course, now it makes sense why I was so bold to Blake before. My thoughts are my words here. Amazing! This feels so liberating!" Sighing in relief, he assured to himself, "all I have to do now is wake up!"

What could have been a breakthrough in consciousness fermented to a breakdown of regained sanity when Neil heard rustling behind him. “Damn it all!” He cursed, tensing his muscles apprehensively. Slowly turning, the boy spied a horde of green eyes glowing in the shadows of the trees surrounding him. Neil realized the mists were but the carrier of the nightmare. Now exposed, the incubus grinned its terrible smile as an army of green eyed wooden freaks burst from the thicket and rushed him en masse.

Though afraid, Neil stood his ground, knowing none of it was real. “No! This is my dream, and you will behave!” Hand extended, Neil willed with all his might to control the beasts. If it worked for the wizard in his favorite fantasy book, why not for Neil in his dream?

They did not bend to his command, despite his bravery.

One freak drew close and jumped him, swiping his chest with a mossy claw. He felt the feral attack rake against his skin. It growled savagely as he backed away. Feeling the wound, Neil looked at his hand in bewilderment. Blood covered the fingers and stained down his shirt. Images of his fight with Blake, and of the beast that tore his arm, flashed into his mind. Neil swallowed hard. What is this? I'm not supposed to get hurt in my dreams!

The mind is an incredibly creative thing; and, within its domain, the word impossible has no actual meaning. The boy discovered this fact too late to avoid the creature's blow.

Standing corrected, Neil ran from the onslaught of freaks before being torn to bits. Suddenly, the ground under his feet moved against him, pulling the panicked boy closer to the growling mob. "Really?!" he screamed. The faster he ran, the more the ground pulled him in. He felt heavy and the air grew unbearably hot. Neil could smell the beasts' putrid breath as they collectively readied to pounce and end him.

As if Morpheus himself stepped in to defy his brother, next to Neil’s tree approached a dark creature, watching over the event with eyes glowing a piercing white light.

Once Neil saw the strange being, the incubus froze still and the beastly horde vanished. Neil’s bleeding wound mended, and the blood ceased to stain as the ground beneath his feet solidified to normal. The heat which sapped his strength cooled slightly. Even Madness itself took a step back, savoring this new development with a keen suspicion. Is it friend, or foe?

Neil did not find himself in Elysium this night. Instead, however incredible, it would seem a member of Elysium had found him.

Now unmolested by his nightmares, Neil's attention was fully captivated by the new strange creature. Both the boy and the stranger stood their ground, locking eye contact. It whinnied and morphed from a vague figure into a dark furred horse with a horn, a pair of black feathered wings, and a flowing mane liken to the night sky.

Neil hardly believed his eyes, for he dreamed nothing like it before.

It approached him, but stopped short a few meters. It looked above, below, and around. Lifting a front leg, it set the hoof on thin air, then leaned on it as if the space were a solid wall. The horse snorted, then shot Neil a confused look.

Neil cautiously approached the odd being, then sat where this phantasmal wall supposedly existed. He extended a hand and pressed on the illusory barrier, then gawked in astonishment upon feeling an odd solidity to the thin air, like a plastic sheet had separated the two strangers. Pressing the hand harder, a satisfying pop resounded once Neil penetrated the barrier. The whole sheet vanished with it. Neil held his hand halfway of the creature and waited to see what would happen next.

Its eyes shifted between him and his hand curiously. Lifting a front leg again, the horse extended a hoof jeweled in silver to meet the open palm. Slowly, cautiously, the alien appendages met. Hoof in hand, hand in hoof, both in the peculiar party remained still for a spell, taking in each other’s strange qualities.

Even though these two beings were born separated by space and time, upon their own habitable speck of dust orbiting its unique parent star, they held similar thoughts toward each other. For instance, the attention of the dark blue horse focused on the boy’s features, soft hands, and smooth mostly furless pale skin. She had never seen anything like Neil before, and wondered where such a being came from.

Whereas, Neil was captivated by the horse’s astral mane, watching it flow of its own accord with its twinkling stars and constellations. A peculiar mark on its flank, which resembled a crescent moon surrounded by an ink blot, gripped his interest tightly. Equally strange was the black and silvery regalia it wore. It appeared to be a noble beast and truly unlike anything he's seen in his life, a fact which added to the intrigue.

Both beings found each other’s eyes enchanting, neither having seen a fruit of evolution like its kind until now. The intensity of Neil’s brown gaze nearly forced the other to look away; likewise, Neil felt the same about the creature’s steely cyan stare. The force of their curiosity overthrew the temptation to break their respective images of each other. Just as he studied her, she further studied him. The marvels uncovered shattered the horse's perspective of life and the boy's of dreams.

The horse narrowed her eyes at Neil, seemingly suspicious over something.

Neil had no clue why, however. The beauty of this figment's cyan eyes quickly entrapped him in wonder. They held a complexity and richness that betrayed sophistication and intelligence. The noble creature emanated a clean feeling about it. The only word Neil knew to describe this fantastic quality was benevolent. How can a dream be this detailed? he asked himself, for beings of the mind were but thoughts themselves. Normally, dreams were blurry, or their textures were muddled somehow by the mind's natural motion. Or, so he believed, as Neil watched his dream shift independently of this creature, like water around a rock, or a still figure in a waving grass field.

His heart beat quickened. What am I getting all worked up for? It's just another part of my dream. he reasoned reasonably; but, in the back of his mind this being set him on edge. He could not shake the feeling that it didn't belong here, like it was foreign somehow. Maybe, all that Western mythology finally went to his studious head and now he started taking dreams too seriously? Bemused Neil laughed at himself while retrieving his hand from the construct's hoof. Smiling, he broke the silence with a pleasant greeting. “Hello.”

It tilted its head and blinked; the puzzlement on the creature's features only deepened.

“Hmmm.” Neil tapped a finger on his chin. Can't talk, huh? Thinking of ways to communicate his friendliness towards the regal being, he snapped his fingers once an idea came to him. I'll give the horse an apple. He looked to his tree and, fortuitously, a large juicy apple suddenly hung from a low laying branch on an otherwise dead barren tree. He promptly rose to pick it. Upon returning to his seat, he offered the succulent fruit to the noble creature.

Its eyes widened at him and the offering in bewilderment. Cheeks blushing, it accepted the gift and stored the fruit into its astral mane.

Neil remained still, awestruck at the horse’s amazing storage trick. “Stylish and useful? That’s one awesome mane you have there!” Its horn glowed, then a warm tingling light encapsulated and teased him to laughter. “H-hey! That tickles!”

It smiled, replying in a sweet voice, “my apologies, good sir; but, thou dost speakest a queer tongue. I required a linguistic spell to parse thy language.” The horse smacked her lips together a few times, like she could taste the words. She tapped her chin with a silver hoof, deciding if she liked the exotic flavor or not. Her blush redoubled as her attention returned to him again. “And, I thank thee for the boon. ‘twas a truly sweet gesture.”

Dumbstruck, Neil's heavy emotions lightened at this sudden and promising change of events. It’s a magical, feminine, horse that speaks in Shakespearean English? That's friggan awesome! He shrugged with a light laugh. “No problem.” Now things were getting interesting. He recalled the strangest thing his mind had concocted in his life: the Sandwichite invasion from planet Reuben incident during the night of his nineth birthday; it turned out the alien confections had depleted their cheese supply and invaded Earth to steal the moon.

That was a very weird dream; however, this winged, horned, and talking horse took the cheese, so to speak. He asked her, “may I have the honor of knowing your name, noble creature?”

Neil's sincerity took the construct by surprise. “Forgive me, good sir. I have forgotten my manners. Of course thou canst. Admittedly, thy presence in the world of dreams surprised me. Truly, ne’er have I seen a being such as thou.” She cleared her throat. “I am Luna, Princess of the Night.”

“Princess of the Night?” Neil furrowed his brows at the strange title. “Unless I’m misunderstanding that, I must wonder, how can one be a Princess only of the night? What happened to the day?”

“Oh, thou art philosophical, I see." Luna answered matter of fact. "That is simple enough. 'Tis my sister whom rules the day after I end the night by lowering the moon.”

Neil’s eyes glazed over at the claim. “Um, did you just say that you lower the moon?”

“But, of course.” She cocked her head to the side, finding his confusion confusing. “As per my royal charge, I lower the moon to help bring about the day.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Pray tell, how canst thou misunderstand this?”

“Well....” Neil paused, trying to find the words to explain how absolutely insane that statement was. True, this was a dream; but, that wasn't about to stop him from questioning such a marvelous statement. “The moon follows the laws of physics, independent from you and I. It will lower itself just fine. Why would you need to help it out?”

Now Luna’s eyes glazed over. After they shared a brief awkward silence, she motioned to Neil with a silvered regal hoof. “I must beg thy pardon. Thou hast me at a disadvantage. May I, good sir, have the honor of inquiring thy identity?”

“Ugh, now I've forgotten my manners.” He held his hand out. “I’m Neil. It’s nice to meet a friendly face out here for a change.”

The princess recognized the gesture and returned it in full. “Ah, aye, ‘tis well indeed, Neil.” They shook in proper greeting and Luna asked in turn with a keen inquisitiveness, “Neil, whither wast thou born?"

Neil scratched his head, wondering what that had to do with their conversation. “I was born in Richmond, Virginia, originally; then, I moved to Ohio after my dad got a better job. Why?”

“Rich-mond, Vir-gi-ni-a, Oh-hi-oh?” Luna blinked at the strange names for these places alien to her. “Pray bid, where exactly is this place with Richmond, Virginia, and this Ohio thou speakest of?”

“You mean, what continent?” Neil blinked at her, rubbing his chin curiously over just what Luna was getting at with this conversation. "Luna, what are you talking about?"

Luna cocked her head. "What is the name of thy planet?"

The boy folded his hands together and studied her features closely. "What, are you another lost alien or something?" He laughed at her surprised look. "Luna, tell it to me straight; what's going on?"

Luna simply replied, “I have risked a great deal to come here, Sir. Answer, prithee? ‘Tis of great import.”

“Well, if you insist. I'm from Earth.” He shook his head. "Now, what, are you stranded here? Do you need me to take you back home?" He scratched his head and looked around, dreading that he wasn't in his bedroom anymore, where all his usual gear was. "My old spaceship's not around here; no matter, I'll just take us to my room." He closed his eyes and willed himself and his new xeno acquaintance to his house. Upon opening his young orbs, they shrugged in distress seeing the environment had not changed one iota. He tried again, and again, pushing his will to the point of grunting, to no avail. It was like the mist; he couldn't escape. Why?

Luna stared at his bizarre behavior with a tilted head and a bemused light smirk.

Clearing the embarrassment from his mind with a nervous cough, he confided to his guest, "Ookaay, plan B, I'll just build a starship and take you back to wherever you live."

She paused for a moment, blinking at him in wonder. "Verily, not only art thou philosophical, but polite, gracious, and generous, towards a stranger no less."

He shrugged. "It's only fair. I know what it's like to feel stranded. Besides, this is my dream. Why wouldn't I do all I can for everything in it?" Solemnly, he continued, "I'm not nearly as capable in real life; so, I try to do everything I can here. Anyway, I'm just guessing. You still haven't answered my question: why are you here?"

"I think I understand now." Luna sighed. “Neil, what I am about to say might upsetest thee.” She scooted closer to him. "Thou art in the land of Equestria, living on my home planet, not thy homeworld, this Earth, as thou understandably suspects. I was opposed to believing this at first; now, I see the uncanny truth. I do not know how thou hast come here; but, on behalf of all Equestria, I welcome thee." She placed a regal hoof on her chest. “Know that I am not a figment of thy dream, but a living being like thou. I am the Princess of the Night. 'Tis my duty to venture into the dreams of all reasoning beings of Equestria whenever necessary. As to thy question, I came the moment I sensed thy distress in the world of dreams. I am here to help thee, Neil. How may I be of service?”

Neil just blinked at the supposedly real Princess Luna. He had to admit she didn't act like any dream he encountered before, and continued to surprise him. He bit his bottom lip. Maybe... no, no way. There's no way she could be real. Admittedly, Neil had never lucidly dreamed before. Perhaps such a rich character like Luna is simply the product of lucid dreaming? The understandably stubborn boy clung to reason, saying to himself, “I wonder, are you actually real, or is this something lucid dreams do naturally?”

Luna retorted only with a raised eye brow.

He asked, staring at her unabashedly, "Okay, let me get this straight. You say you're not part of my dream, but an alien dream visitor from real life who's now in my mind because of my nightmare. Is that right?”

“Simply put, yes.” Luna answered with a firm singular nod.

Neil shrugged his face. “Alright. Tell you what, there’s this wise saying on my planet, ’extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.’ If you are in fact real, I must ask that you prove it.” He pointed at her, adding to further his position; "Put yourself in my shoes. You must understand how ridiculous it sounds to claim being real while inside a dream. You can’t expect me to believe you outright. I’m not crazy.” He put his foot down figuratively with an ultimatum. “If you are real, all I ask is some proof of this in the physical world.”

Luna smiled, then pondered Neil's brilliant challenge a moment. The wise Princess calmly replied, “verily, thou madest an excellent point. I shall produce proof of my existence in reality; however, I ask for time to bethink of a way to prove myself thus; and, I ask thou to please treatest me not as a figment of thy mind but as a person. Wilt thou grantest me this much?”

“Certainly; take all the time you need.” With the matter settled momentarily, he lied down on the dream born grass. It felt so nice to just relax, to take a self-centering moment free of pain, worry, and fear. With Luna for company, he didn't mind staying in the dream a while longer. Taking a deep contented sigh, he opted to remain as long as R.E.M. would have him.

Luna considered Neil for a moment, then joined him on the ground. Upon laying next to the relaxing boy, she stared at the distant changing sky. Its blue tint quickly changed to orange, red, purple, and even blanked out white before it changed back to blue. The clouds shape-shifted constantly while racing about. These quirks of the mental environment Luna recognized as signs of an inexperienced lucid dreamer, with little to no inner mastery of willpower. Dreams within such beings are liken to an overworked staff during a grand feast; in such a thing there is much clamor, hustle, bustle, and inefficiency. A well-organized mind manifests orderly dreams, with bouts of mirthful chaos birthing only at the beckoning call of the dreamer in question. Such was not the case with the one untrained in oneiromancy beside her.

She ignored the nonsense above and gently bit the inside of her bottom lip in thought.

Neil opened a single eye her way. Noticing the intensity on her features, he rolled over to his side and faced her. "What's on your mind?"

Her ears perked up and she answered, "I was wondering why I find the name of thy planet familiar." She tapped her chin in deep thought. "Earth...hmmm...whither have I heard that before?"

With a devilish smile, Neil held up his phone and pointed to it. "Hey, don't worry, I have Sherlock Holmes on...." His old joke evaporated as he glared astonished at the imaginary copy of his cell phone, and screamed,"my phone!" Realizing he'd forgotten something with the potential of saving his life, Neil shot up from his seat and patted himself down. "Where did I leave it?! I had it when I fell!" He face palmed at his efforts, for if he didn't already know where it was then looking for it here was futile. "I need to wake up and find it! Wait." He sighed and slumped back down to the warming dirt. "What if it's still night out? I'm too hurt, and it was far too dark. I'd better stay asleep for now to be safe."

Being a patient witness to Neil's sudden passionate outburst, a particular bit of the boy's lament caught Luna's attention. She fixed her complete focus to the dower boy while raising to sit on her haunches. "Excuse me, but didst thou sayest thee fell and was hurt?"

Resting the back of his head upon his up turned palms, Neil answered, "Yeah. I fell out of the sky after I...I dunno, tripped into some kind of portal thing." He frowned at the mental image of his assailant's face. "This is all Helen's fault. Every bit of it." Sudden vexation gripped him. He rose to his feet, grabbed a clump of soil and threw it to alleviate his anger. It only dirtied the hand.

Momentarily dumbfounded by the weight of his claim, Luna recovered herself and replied aghast, "thou fellest from the sky after falling into a portal?! How and when?!"

Neil told Luna his story, Trisha following Helen into the basement, him tripping into the portal with Helen, then nearly dying by falling from above the clouds, and making his campsite and tools, everything up to the moment he fell asleep surrounded by the horrors of the night outside his lean to.

Despite the Princess's rapt attention on Neil's retold tale, she gasped upon seeing his real appearance manifest. Her wide eyes took in his form, dirty and ravaged with wounds that would surely scar. Once her cyan eyes gravitated to his crippled leg, liquid sympathy pooled and fell down her cheeks. "Egad, how dust thou move with such heinous injuries?!"

"Painfully." He held up his impromptu crutch. "If not for this, I couldn't move an inch without crawling like a filthy beast in the dirt." He slowly lowered the stick. The presence of a confidant ear, combined with the aggressive images of feral teeth chewing his arm, broke his thin emotional shield. "There are horrible things out here and this is all I have to fight them." He waved to what he now considered a miserable pile of hobbled stone tools and school gear. "I'm trapped and I don't know where I am." Neil pulled his knees to his chest and withdrew, hugging them tightly. "I think I'm going to die here, and no one else knows about it. I'm scared, Luna."

If any doubts remained of this forlorn being's sapience, they died with his lament. Luna promptly trotted to the retched boy and hugged him with her surprisingly large dark wings. Neil flinched at the abrupt show of affectionate consideration towards his shattered physical and mental comfort. The wings were soft and consoling. He found himself hugging her back, then shivering.

"Sir, I can hardly imagine thy trauma. 'Twill be alright. I promise with all my power, I shall liberate thee from this vile situation, good Neil; I swear it by the moon." Despite the courage and outward sureness of her tone, Luna's stomach fluttered and knotted itself as her mind rushed apprehensively.

She knew the major forests on the Equestrian continent. To name a hoofful, the Everfree Forest, Hollow Shades, and the White Tail Woods. There were even the woodlands in the Undiscovered West and the Mysterious South to consider. But, if Neil was not actually on the Equestrian continent, this mental tally would prove fruitless. The magical formulae of portal spells are not attuned to xenomorphic physiology. Meaning, it could've spat Neil literally anywhere on the planet. In fact, he's very fortunate it didn't maroon him under the ocean, inside the planet, or in orbit for that matter.

In addition to those bitter facts, the surroundings within Neil's dream gave no evidence of his location in reality. With Luna's knowledge of Equestria's woodlands, she could've guessed Neil's position based on the dream around her. She looked around and spied nothing beyond the treeline, just a blurry mishmash of colored textures. The space covered in this dream was too small to determine the boy's position effectively. Simply put, he knew too little to offer much help. She deduced from this his accident must have happened within the last 12 hours.

Regardless, if he was in Equestria after all, she knew intimately the Equestrian wilderness was an unforgiving and brutal environment. The likelihood of finding Neil before the wilds took him was slim, considering his critical condition. Luna bit her lower lip and squeezed Neil gently. She was afraid, afraid for him. Most of all, the Princess also understood what it felt like to feel alienated and alone, which only motivated her more to find Neil before the wilds claimed their exotic prize.

She needed a moment to think. In the meantime, Luna would keep an eye on her guest. Gently letting Neil go from the embrace, she motioned to follow her. "Come, Neil, walk with me. Movement may doest thou some good."

With her promise of help still ringing in his bruised ears, Neil wiped the sweat and tears then joined the Princess on a woodland trek. Even if Luna might prove just a dream after all, hearing her say everything would be alright lifted the boy's down trodden spirits. The sun rose steadily in the horizon. Its gentle morning glow penetrated the canopy and illuminated the path.

They took down a familiar road, the one Neil walked before that abomination attacked him. He grit his teeth, hoping his immediate past wouldn't return to bite him, again.

Luna saw the sun rise as well and smiled slightly to herself, seeing it as a good sign for her alien acquaintance. The Princess cleared her throat, "This Helen, the one whom cast the portal thou mentioned, whence came her?"

Neil scoffed, "Tch, she showed up one day. I don't know her story, because she kept to herself. Helen mostly went around school taking notes like you wouldn't believe. She even recorded Clay napping on a cafeteria bench! Who does that?!"

"Queer, indeed." She giggled. "And, how didst thou discoverest her secret again?"

"My friend and I followed Helen into the basement of our school and found her near the damn portal." He shook his head. "I should mention I saw Trisha's hand pass right through her. What kind of tales from the crypt shit is that!?" Neil sighed, holding his temples between the index finger and thumb of his right hand for some measure of surcease from the building stress.

"Hmmm, a concealment spell..." Luna ironed out Neil's heated testimony and mentally spat at its bitter flavor. "Alak. So, 'tis as I feared."

Neil just looked at her. "What is it?"

"The Ordo Veritatum, this must be their doing." Luna closed her eyes in aggravation. "Helen must be some wayward Field Scribe."

"Excuse me?" The confused boy shrugged his face. "The Ordo weer-a-what? What's that, some kind of creepy worm-hole cult? Are there tentacles involved?"

"Nay; but, such would be a humorous alternative. 'Tis old Crystalan for 'the Order of Truth,' an ancient priesthood following an equally old mysticism."

That idea peaked Neil's interest. "Oh? What do they believe in?"

"They believe one can embody truth through the acquisition of it. Their ultimate goal is to achieve unity with the universal mind and thus bring true harmony to all life." She shrugged. "'Tis an admirable goal."

"Admirable, and pointless." Neil boldly claimed while wiping more sweat from his brow.

Luna curiously considered him as he continued, while also wondering if his species was supposed to have clammy skin.

"If one could simply embody truth," the young philosopher explained, "Then there would be no need for multiple branches of schooling or for science, or any form of learning beyond a singular kind. Just learn to embody it; there you go!" He laughed. "Nonsense."

"Interesting." Luna smirked ever so slightly at his reasoning. "What makes thou so certain this ancient order has unwittingly pursued nonsense for millennia? Surely, truth must originate from some universal center for them to commit themselves so?"

Neil scratched his head, thinking of a rebuttal. "Well, the whole reason learning even works is because the truth is ultimately unknowable, that way there's always room for growth. In other words, if you can't learn everything, there's always something to learn." He tapped his head with a finger. "On my planet, a great philosopher named Plato theorized something to this degree. I personally think attaining ultimate knowledge is a farce; because, the best anyone can do is apply some kind of calculus to truth. Sure, you'll get close eventually, but never actually reach zero. Anyway, do you have someone like Plato on your world?"

Luna considered the question for a spell. "One comes to mind, the great thinker Neighto."

Neil deadpanned. "Are you kidding me?"

She replied innocently, "Whatever is the matter, Neil?"

"You're telling me, instead of Pla-to, you have Neigh-to?"

"Of course."

"Wait, wait, let me guess: instead of Emperor Na-poleon, is it Neigh-poleon?"

She nodded. "Yea. There was an Emperor Neighpoleon once."

Neil had a well spirited laugh over her obvious joke. "You're full of it!" It felt so good to laugh, a welcome contrast to the recent horrors.

Luna broke her serious demeanor and grinned at Neil's infectious laughter. "My apologies, Neil. I was indeed jesting. There are no such ponies on my world. The closest I believe to this Plato may be Starswirl the Bearded; and, this Emperor Napoleon, I say, King Sombra, mayhap?"

Neil had no idea who this Starswirl was. He pictured a gay wizard with a sparkly luxurious beard whirling around like a dervish in his bedazzled tower:

Behold, my faaabulous power!

Stifling a giggle attack, Neil quickly asked, "uh, was this King Sombra a tactical genius with an insatiable lust for power?"

"Yes, in fact." Luna's ears perked up. "Fancy that, they were alike after all."

"That was a good guess then." One word of Luna's caught Neil's attention. He asked her, "Wait, before, you said ponies. You call yourself a pony, not a horse?"

"Indeed." Her stoic demeanor returned as she continued, "By the by, in my language, a whorse is a sex worker. I say this because whorse obviously must mean something different in thy tongue."

Neil's jaw dropped. This figment shockingly considered the word horse as a homophone for whore. "Of course it does!"

The Princess giggled. “Calm thyself, Neil. I understand. ‘Twas simply a homophone most foul!” Now Luna laughed and Neil cracked up, joining her in the harmless mirth. This was good. Her plan of keeping Neil's stress down was working, for now.

When Neil calmed, he finished, "Yeah, it's what we call equines on Earth."

Luna's eyes widened. "What? Equines live on thy planet?"

"Yeah; but, they're nothing like you or me; they're animals."

Luna asked while shrugging her features, "Equines are lesser creatures on thy world?"

"Well, Earth horses aren't inferior creatures because they're animals; it's... you see..." Neil scratched his head, trying to think of a better way to put it. "Humans are unique compared to anything on Earth. I mean, sure, you can say, 'but the dolphins!' Yet, when the next asteroid key holes and will slam the Earth, only Humans could stop it, not the over hyped telepathic sea mammals. To quote the wise Jacob Bronowski, 'man is a singular creature; he has certain gifts which make him unique among the animals. So that, unlike them, he is not a figure in the landscape; he is the shape of the landscape.' In other words, what men think and do becomes the landscape."

"Verily? Thou art a Human, I presume?"

"That's right. I am a Human being, Man, or even a Terran, if you're feeling exotic."

"Forsooth, they are all quite exotic." Luna noted the imaginary sun was higher in the sky now. "Is thy species sexually dimorphic?"

"Wha-ho, that went south fast. Uh, yeah. There are males and females." Neil gestured to himself with a thumb. "I'm a male, by the way."

"Hmmm. Our species share similarities. On my world there are mares and colts." Luna let the subject on Earth die for the moment as she watched an angry squirrel yell at them for venturing too close to its tree.

Eerily like the genders of Earth horses. Neil ironed out the concept of interstellar magical space equines, before remembering that angst ridden tree rodent and stopping in his steps. "Oh, no." He breathed as his previous hopes were dashed. The scene manifested around them from Neil's memory. The wooden freak in hiding drew near.

"What is it?" Luna asked. The fear on his face made her body stiffen straighter.

The bird flew in the same pattern as before. The rabbits hopped away. The deer still grazed. The bushes still growled.

Luna and Neil collectively turned. Staring at the shadowy thicket, both understood what was transpiring; Neil knew from memory, Luna from recognizing the sound and what creature it belonged to.

The savage plant based assailant emerged from the brush, its bark covered face tensing with a murderous glare, baring its unholy toothy scowl while coiling to pounce.

"Friend of thine?" Luna asked, unperturbed by the pseudo beast.

At first, Neil recoiled, his shell-shock still pestering him with images of impending death. The boy forcefully composed himself while pointing at it with a thumb. "Oh, it's one of those murder plant dog things that attacked me earlier today on this path." He showed Luna his arm with its red stained bandage. "It almost killed me." Promptly, Neil picked up a rock. "But, he's not so tough now." He tossed the stone at the thing. "Begone abomination!" The rock struck it and the beast fled yelping into the brush. The vengeful boy smirked devilishly in triumph.

Inside, Luna lept for joy at the sight of the creature; it told her Neil was factually on the Equestrian continent, for that was a Timberwolf, a species native to Equestria. Displaying no emotion on this revelation however, Luna asked him, "yonder Timberwolf attacked thee in reality?"

Neil quickly swiveled his head to face Luna. "Did you just call that thing a Timberwolf?"

"Correct. 'Tis their name, Neil." Luna resumed walking. "I assume thou dost not have Timberwolves on thy planet?"

"No. Well...." He rubbed the back of his neck, finding the Timberwolf homophone between his world and Luna's both amusing and surprising. "We do; but, they're animals with muscle and skin, not tree things with bark and wood."

"Simply wolves amongst the timber, then? I assume that means thy planet has trees?"

"It does. Earth is a garden world, much like your world, in fact-" Dizziness struck Neil suddenly as his knees buckled under his weight before falling to the ground. The growing heat proved too much and over took his body. His sweat turned cold on his clammy skin.

The textures and background of the dream around them began to melt like ice cream in the sun. Something was horribly wrong, and Luna rushed to him. "Neil, what happened?"

"I felt woozy all of a sudden." Neil winced and gripped his leg.

Luna saw something that wasn't there before, a familiar and deadly sign on his leg injury. Her horn glowed as a dull light encapsulated the area. She gasped, "thou hast a powerful fever! The wound upon thy leg radiates the most heat of anywhere. Zounds! Neil, didst thou sufferest this injury from the trees or the timberwolf?"

"The trees: I pulled out a stick punctured in my leg after the fall."

Luna asked carefully, "did a black film grow on this stick?"

"I didn't exactly examine it. I was too busy almost bleeding to death."

"I believe thou hast been poisoned by mort moss, a rare but fatally toxic vegetation indigenous to Equestria. It grows in thick canopies on low branches."

A numbing tingling sensation progressed up from Neil's injured leg. None of this made any sense. This is his dream, in his mind. Why can't he control it? Why can't he get back up? Why can't he cool off? What is going on? The boy screamed inside his mind these desperate questions. "Why is this happening, Luna? Why can't I control my dream?"

Luna shushed him. "Calm thyself. Panic will worsen it. Mort moss is an Arcanatoxin, which poisons both body and soul. A foul fever hast taken over thy physical and astral bodies, rendering thee powerless."

"I'm having a fever dream?"

"Yes."

"That explains a lot."

"If the toxin isn't treated, thou wilt slowly fall into a fatal paralysis."

"What can I do?"

"Seekest thou a common long dangling plant in the trees, a moss known as sage's beard. 'Tis the natural cure to mort moss. Add some to boiling water. The resulting gel is the medicine."

Suddenly, the sun began to drop down into the horizon and nighttime quickly followed.

"What is this?" Luna asked, looking around cautiously. Something didn't feel right. A creeping sense about the environment made the skin crawl under her dark blue fur.

Neil gasped, feeling the air grow denser, like someone placed a weight on his chest, making his body feel weaker.

Luna's soft eyes hardened towards the origin of the thing encroaching them from the darkness. She stood tall, unflinchingly waiting for this foul thing to reveal itself.

The feeling grew too much for Neil to bear and he lost his nerve. "We need to go, Luna!"

"The infection is what concerns me, not the visions that lurk in thy dream. They cannot cause any true harm."

"I would agree; but, you don't understand what I've been throu-"

A horrible howl echoed from the shadows. The incubus returned and a beastly shadow bane of great size crept from the dark thickets. Neil’s jaw dropped at the manifest heinousness before him. The bane was enshrouded in a dark veil. It had wings, a scorpion tale, and bright red eyes, glaring at the boy and Princess with a murderous savage fury.

“I see thee, monster!” Luna opened her wings wide and her horn glowed a dim hue of dark light. “Neil, have courage! I shall banish this bold abomination.”

It angrily stomped the ground and snarled at the Princess to get out of the way.

“Foul spawn of darkness, thou dare threaten me?” She bared a mouth of fierce sharp teeth and hissed at the abomination as she advanced a few steps forward. “What art thou waiting for, beast? Have at thee!"

"What are you, dream Rambo?" Neil screamed in terror, "leave me and run!"

The shadow bane lunged at her in midair, its claws poised to shred her apart. Unafraid, Luna simply waited for the beast to fail in its objective and phase through her. Neil managed one last measure of strength and tackled her out of its way, its meat hooks narrowly missing the warrior Princess. Unfortunately, Neil wasn't so lucky. Luna gasped as its weapons tore bloody gashes in Neil's side and back. “It cannot be!”

"I told you." Lying on top of her, quivering, Neil desperately attempted to move his body, to no success. The numbness was taking over.

Luna considered the unholy beast once more. Her eyes widened in terror, for this toxin induced nightmare behaved like an Incubus, a self aware nightmare which fought back against its host's will. If such was true, of all the problems she prepared for tonight, this was the last she'd consider. The Princess bit her lip to compose herself, thinking all this was madness. Focus, Luna. She reminded herself, The shadow bane must be dealt with first.

Neil sighed in defeat and weakly smiled at the Princess. “Thanks for your kindness and help, Luna.” His fearful eyes watched the shadow bane approach with death in its red eyes. "You've done all you can. I don't care if you're real or not. Do not let that freak get you. Go."

Luna was unable to save herself from her nightmare; she was not about to fail Neil and let this one take him. Narrowing her eyes at the abomination, she gently set Neil aside. “’Tis alright, Neil. Thou shalt not sufferest this terror under my night alone!” She turned to meet the nefarious bane again. "Neil, I shall distract this beast and grantest thou an opening to wake thyself up! 'Twill be difficult, but we must try!"

Neil just lied on his back, watching Luna stand up for him.

The dark monster leaped forward to slaughter Neil and Luna with its massive claws before they could escape it.

Luna cast a ward spell over them both. The roaring beast's claws raked over the barrier and the stinger of its tail bounced off. She saw the human just stare on dumbfounded "Why dost thou hesitate? Wake thyself now! The window is open!" The ward held, but weakened with every brutal blow. Luna winced under the intense assault, as its power began to challenge hers. "Thou must succeed, or the shadow bane will smite thee! Thou canst do this! Believe!"

Neil vied against the numbness and pushed with all his will. His deadened hand slowly began to clinch. With one powerful thought, born of a pure need to live, the boy imagined himself opening his eyes. He could see the clearing and finally found his the way out of this crazy dream!

It's working!

Luna smiled. "Remember the long hanging moss. I shall await thy return, Neil"

The dream blurred and two slits of light brought Neil back to the real world.

Neil's eyes slowly opened to the painful perception of sunlight beaming from the canopy. He felt so weak and the corners of his vision waved like water. The worst headache of his life pounded inside his skull. It was so hard to move, for the boy's body felt almost like dead weight. Despite all these immediate issues, he smiled. The boy had survived his first night in this hell.

Part Five

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With the wake of watery pain waving about the boy’s periphery, Neil could’ve sworn Poseidon had sucker punched him in his sleep. He saw the air thick with stray light beams glittering through his lean-to covering as the morning sunlight cut through it and the canopy. The rays waved with the faux liquid outline of his migraine, which felt like piercing daggers to his sensitive vision. Neil squinted his eyes to alleviate the intensely uncomfortable sensation.

The dryness of his mouth only added to the present agony. Slowly, Neil reached a slothful hand to free the bulging bandage from his throbbing leg. Carefully, he pulled the cotton knot free and the dressing loosened immediately, reliving some of the pressure to his satisfaction.

Inspecting the afflicted wound, Neil noted the puncture had evolved to a red mound which oozed an inky goo. Foul wisps of veins, tainted a sickening black color, streaked about the injury. It was the most abominable infection he had the displeasure of seeing. Neil chucked morbidly. Drunk with pain, he rasped in melancholic defeat, “well, that didn’t take long.” He sluggishly flipped off the sky with a weak grin. “You can’t fool anyone, god. Your shit stinks just like the rest of us.” Laughing, then wincing as the giggles pressed on the headache, Neil rolled on his stomach in his bedding to crawl for the brook. His dry mouth begged for a drink. If only he was of age, and in supply, of something stronger than water.

Leaving his lean-to, like a slug with its slimy body feeling half dead, he slowly crawled, inching his way over the clearing to the brook.

Arriving at the pebble shore, after what felt like an hour of crawling like some ghoul freshly animated from death, Neil dipped his numbed hand into what he knew was cold water, yet was barely perceptible as such. The lack of feeling nearly scared the thirst from the boy; but, like a drunkard would take to his bottle, Neil rapidly guzzled several palm-fulls of water, hoping to drown his thirst and the fear in one move. Only the thirst conceded.

Sighing bitterly, Neil rolled to his side on the mossy pebbles and sunk his sweat soaked battered body into the cold earth. Shivering while watching the water dance its way down stream, he opted to despondently await the inevitable end. Suddenly, movement on the shore just meters beyond interrupted the surrender to death. Eyes struggling to see through the migraine induced blurriness, Neil thought he spied a small animal dragging itself towards the brook’s cool edge. Was it real, or another fever induced illusion?

Pushing his vision to see better, he realized the creature was indeed real. In fact, it was the pup timberwolf from yesterday he scared off! Wait, what? Did I just call it a timberwolf? He recalled the regal being from the previous night terror. What was her name again? Lesa, Lyra, Lulu, Lu...Luna! That’s it, Luna! She called these beasts by that name. Product of a dream or not, the name made good sense and he chose to keep it.

The young timberwolf limped a few more steps before falling with a whimper to the pebble shore. It looked sickly and exhausted. Apparently, Neil wasn’t the only one with issues presently. The pup struggled reaching the water’s edge, and the boy figured it needed a drink badly if it risked being out in the open like this.

Closer it inched towards the boy and the brook beside him. Soon, it moved within an arm’s distance only to stop mid craw upon finally noticing Neil. Clearly, its sight was worse than his. Now closer, he could take a good look at the pup. Its body had this foul film covering the abdomen and lower legs. The pathetic creature shivered and panted. Its cute round eyes winced periodically in pain; their vivid color had waned to a pale green.

Poor thing has it bad. Neil watched it desperately reach for the water, in vein, lacking the strength to make the final push. Sighing, the merciful boy reached out, dipped a palm in the brook, then offered it to the timberwolf youngling.

Its groggy eyes alternated between the scary thing that screams, throws rocks, and swings sticks, to the sweet water in its strange paw. Finally caving, the pup struggled to extend its wooden appendage. A long thin root, to Neil’s amazement, grew from the pup’s paw and moved towards his hand, yet still it couldn’t quite reach. The curious boy extended the hand further. His widened eyes, despite the pain of the morning’s light, watched in astonishment as the root dipped into his wet palm and absorbed the water like a sponge.

Amazing.... Neil watched the timberwolf drain the liquid from his hand, then in mere minutes it perked up from its stupor in better health, although the repulsive film remained. It recovered that fast?! Neil fought pangs of jealousy. If only he possessed such power of rejuvenation, to sip some water and spring back into action. Alas, the Human boy lacked such evolutionary perks.

The pup tried to seat itself on its hind legs, but slipped and stayed lying down. Apparently, it's lower half was paralyzed. It then considered the boy with a curiously intense curiosity. Before the heat and weight of his fever pulled Neil’s weary eyes shut, the sickened boy wondered what the timberwolf was thinking. Darkness took him into an unpleasant rest as the morning sun rose above the horizon.

Neil awoke periodically from sleep in bursts, with each time his body descended deeper into total paralysis. It grew harder over time to shift in his resting place, let alone fully move. Even breathing became laborsome before long. Pathetic Neil, glued to his back on the forest’s living earth, swallowing the last bit of dust in his dried throat before a knife of pain in his leg suddenly shocked him awake. He spied the timberwolf licking at the infected wound with its abrasive mycelium covered tongue. It must've dragged itself over to him.

With fever deadened eyes widening in one last survival induced bout of terror, Neil desperately, albeit ineffectively, attempted to stop the youngling from further contaminating the injury or from eating him before fully dying. He waved his sluggish hands to scare it while rasping what was supposed to be a heated warning, something like, get out of here, you annoying little shit! Instead, what sputtered forth were grunts and barely comprehensible mutterings of feverish nonsense. Rolling his eyes back into the skull splitting headache, the boy gave in. Perhaps, it was better this way, Neil surmised. Maybe, the added microbes would kill him quicker, if fortune smiled on him for a change? Hopefully, sooner than later, he wished, before drifting again into an exhaustion and pain induced suspension.

Neil had no memory of what transpired in the hours that followed the last bout of unconsciousness. However, the boy felt a strange change in his health. He felt, miraculously, better! The fever had broke, and the migraine with it. Upon reopening his eyes, Neil first noticed the water had dissipated and his periphery was clear. Astonishingly, with some residual stiffness aside, he could move again! He laughed while opening and closing his hand with little effort. Relief and excitement washed over him like a tidal wave. What happened? How had he managed this miracle recovery?

His brown young eyes settled on the pup from before, now laying beside his injured leg. Seeing Neil was awake, its plantlike ears perked up. The beast's head rose and tilted at him, as if to ask him something. The oddest thing Neil spied immediately was the condition of his leg. He gawked and rubbed his eyes to ensure what he saw wasn’t some trick of the light. It was indeed no illusion. Both the angry swollen flesh, and the black corruption, healed. In fact, the wound showed signs of advanced healing, weeks in advance.

Clinching a fist in renewed determination, Neil had to test something. Pushing his stiff body to move, he slowly rose to his feet. Numerous joints cracked as he stood on a sore, but operable, previously inoperable, leg. Tapping the foot on the ground, Neil winced as tears of indescribable joy washed the dirt from his face. The emotional intensity of being able to walk again was intoxicating. “I might not die after all!”

The boy’s confused mind would’ve warped and twisted on itself for a logical explanation, that is, if there was a possibility for one; by all accounts, medically, scientifically, reasonably, Neil had no right to be alive, let alone crying over a renewed ability to walk. “There is a god!” he blurted to whatever, then wiped away the liquid mirth.

At a complete loss, Neil ran some fingers through his hair, then his eyes settled on the bandaged arm, which, serendipitously, was also pain free. Apprehensively, almost afraid to confirm what his gut already knew, Neil untied the bloodied wrapping and saw only a trail of fresh scars where bloody gashes once bled.

“But, h-how?!” The aghast boy stammered, before locking bewildered eyes on the paralyzed pup to his right. The explanation his mind deducted from the evidence of this impossible case carried such weight it forced him to sit back down and stare at this odd creature in disbelief. Looking to his leg and arm several more times, Neil rhetorically asked the young timberwolf while pointing to the healing leg, “did you do this?”

The wild child merely locked eyes with his. Silence remained its answer.

The wolf licked my leg; now, I’m better and it’s nearly healed. The other tore up my arm, and it’s the same. What if...if the wolf somehow healed me? Besides how premature the assumption might be, if it where true, how could I prove it? Racking his brain for possible solutions, he kept in mind that both wounds were exposed to a timberwolf’s mouth. It wasn't much to go on; but, the simple proof it spawned was easy enough to rule out first. The boy scientist took his mental razor, then cracked the knuckles of both his hands. “Let’s put Occam to the test.”

Carefully scooching closer to the pup, Neil drew within reach. The creature lowered its head fearfully, but remained still, its round glowing eyes locked firmly with the boy’s unblinking brown orbs. Gingerly, Neil extended a hand to give the thing a friendly touch. It recoiled at first, but once it felt the scratch behind its plant ear, its eye lids lowered in ecstasy. It might've kicked a hint leg were it not deadened by the scummy film covering.

Despite the eldritch nature of this beast, it was like any other dog at its core; and, Neil took pleasure in giving it a good scratch. “That’s your sweet spot, huh?” Soon, the creature panted, then Neil grasped his chance. With the other hand, he quickly put a finger in its mouth and drew a sample of its spit, with no discomfort to the pup.

Neil smelled the liquid then quickly placed a palm over his nose to guard against the powerful odor. “David Hasselhoff’s nipples, that’s nasty!” It smelled like burnt rubber and weird old blue cheese, just like the other wolf from before. Hold on a minute, that smell reminded him of something. Neil pondered this for a spell. “Aha!” The memory struck like lightning. It smelled eerily close to penicillin! Mrs. Roseburg once brought a raw sample of the drug to her chemistry class. He’d never forget such a strange stench.

It would be truly miraculous if these creatures secreted antimicrobial spit. The idea wasn’t so far fetched. Neil knew that an ant’s saliva had antimicrobial properties, which the workers used to clean the queen's larva. Perhaps, this creature’s spit also served a similar purpose?

Besides the nature of such a thing, the second impossible aspect of this situation was the rapidity of his recovery. Even if Timberwolf drool held antimicrobial properties, there was no obvious explanation for his inextricably aggressive healing rate. It's like some compound within this substance excited Neil's recovery systems into overdrive. He didn't know the answers to these notions; but, his gut harbored hunches.

To prove the accuracy of the first hunch, Neil took a breath, then rubbed the foul smelling stuff on a nasty throbbing gash on his left cheek. It stung, but stuck to the injury like a watery glue. Now, he waits. If it shows a recovery consistent with his arm and leg, then the matter was settled in Neil’s book.

In the meantime, he had work to do. Morning long waxed to evening. From what Neil could tell through the small breaks in the canopy above, the sun was maybe two hours from midday. He had been fighting unconsciousness for eight hours, he guessed. No matter. Neil's gurgling stomach interrupted his time guesstimation, as if to say, Hey, you can finally stand? Great, now feed me you lazy bastard!

“Geez, alright! I’m working on it!” Neil promptly gobbled some berries from the bush then moved to start a new fire. Thankfully, some embers still smoldered under the fresh ashes. Resurrecting the campfire was easy enough. With the flame eating eagerly again, the boy took his tooth brush and floss, then started his hygiene regimen, what hygiene he could manage out here anyway.

With his teeth clean, and face washed in the brook, the boy spied a stately fish, clearly glaring back at him in the still pool. He locked narrowed eyes with it. “Soon.” It darted away, as if it heard.

Things were about to get interesting now his mobility had almost recovered. The teen moved by the settled timberwolf pup, still watching him curiously. Neil grabbed his throwing spears, three in count, and his knife, while leaving the last spear behind for personal defense.

Standing erect by the pebble shore, the young hunter waited for the right moment. Fish swam, happily eating whatever food they could nab, completely oblivious of the hungry human watching them closely from the dry place. Electricity spawned gooseflesh as his instincts screamed to toss the spear. Neil let fly and drove the tool into the pool at a fat trout chasing a crawdad. Pulling the weapon from the murky water, eyes gleaming with hope, he spied only the broken tip of an empty spear. Hunger mixed with disappointment and confusion at his misdoings.

What was he doing wrong? Surely, it can’t be that hard.

Neil tried again. Seeing the fat trout chase the same crayfish, he threw the weapon once it drew close. Neil cussed after retrieving another wasted tool. Only one spear remained. Now, it’s do it or float on berries and hollow dreams. Once more with feeling, the hunter focused all his will and lust for a good breakfast on this last fated attempt to nab that twice dammed fish!

Seeing the prize swim about like he owned the place, it tried to eat that same crustacean, who’s having the worst luck, or perhaps, the best luck? Neil, giving in to his bestial instincts, savagely focused on the target, gripping the spear with white knuckles. He furiously drove the spear into the pool once the trout swam about a meter away. Grinning fiendishly, he swore the tool made its mark after a flash of scales graced his vision. Taking the spear from the water, his smile melted into a lip trembling frown. The spear had survived, fortunately. Unfortunately, so had the fat fish. Either disgruntled from the three near death experiences it suffered, or simply losing interest in the crayfish, it swam away unharmed.

Neil was something beyond frustrated.

Dragging his feet back to camp, Neil slumped down with a defeated plop on the log by the feeding fire. He snorted at the happily popping flames. "At least someone's eating here." Rubbing the incessantly nagging hole in his gut, the ravenous boy tried punching it away, to obviously no avail. “Well, that was stupid.” He sighed deeply, rubbing the now bruised and still empty stomach.

Hunger can make you do strange things.

The child timberwolf crawled by its front legs to lie on the ground next to his seat. It’s panting had elevated to a disheartening degree, like it couldn’t breathe well. Horrified Neil witnessed the black scum slowly creep up the thing’s body towards the chest. “Gross!” He gasped at the unsettling spectacle. “That’s some creepy crap! What is that stuff?” He leaned closer to inspect the infection. It was fuzzy like moss and disgustingly pulsated like it was alive. Maybe, it’s a kind of fungus?

“A black mossy fungus? Hmmm.” The survivor wondered why that seemed familiar. An image of Luna beamed to his mind’s eye. He recalled what the dream told him about this life form. What did she call it? Mort moss? That's right. It grows naturally in this strange place, apparently anyhow.

Standing up, he took the medical kit and grabbed the small hydrogen peroxide bottle. Maybe this will work? “Hmm. What can I use as a rag?” His eyes settled on his torn shirt. He removed it and donned the new one from storage: a nice clean short sleeve shirt, the last of its kind. Neil dabbed some peroxide on a cloth torn from the discarded shirt.

Gingerly, the boy pseudomedic dabbed the fizzing substance on the sickly timberwolf. The black scum hated it and recoiled in retreat immediately. Neil made sure to dab the whole affected area with the medicine. Hopefully, it will kill that mort stuff and the pup will recover fully. Although, it might take a few more coats. Only time will tell.

He glanced at the bottle of concentrated hygiene in his dirty hand. It grew lighter and more rarefied with every use. Should he really use it on this creature? Well, if the experiment proves true, this being saved his life. And what if his suspicion proves false? What, would he toss it aside to die like garbage? Neil tightened his grip around the plastic bottle.

Well, I was wrong, little guy. You can die now, since you're not as useful as I thought. Imagining the abandoned corpse of the slime devoured pup at the clearing's edge repulsed his mind's eye to nigh physical nausea.

It was a sickening and repugnant thought! Neil gave it no purchase, then gently touched his wounded cheek. Although he had washed the saliva off earlier, the cut felt better, and the swelling had subsided. He hadn't noticed it ceased to throb since the last failed fishing attempt.

Neil's smile overtook his previously grim demeanor. That’s all the proof he needed. He owes this beast a big favor and he’ll deliver. Not to mention its antimicrobial and mysterious healing properties would greatly increase his chances of survival. Its parents would’ve found it by now anyway, which made it an orphan. If Neil managed to tame the beast, it could also be a companion! The matter was settled on that note. The survivor would keep it.

Man’s best friend, or man’s best dog-plant-abomination-thing? Neil chuckled, shaking his head. He needed to properly name it. But, what appropriate name could one grant such an eldritch creature? Cthulhu? No, no, far too cliché. Contemplatively scratching his scalp, he opted to settle this later and move on to more crucial work: like stocking the campfire, gathering materials for tools, figuring out the issues of food acquisition, and camp expansion.

If survival was to last beyond the week, Neil needed to expand and solidify his domain over the clearing. Right now, any manner of monster could waltz in and wreak havoc. He made a list of objectives to complete before the week’s end on some note paper:

1: Acquire materials:
wood for tools and building,
stone for the same,
rope stuffs,
and find a clay resource.
2: Food:
review edible fauna book,
scout for such plants nearby,
build a fish trap,
obtain produce for farming,
and build a potable water reserve.
3: Expansion:
build a flood proof hut,
build furnace,
and make advanced tools.

He would add to list as he thought of more goals to work on.

“I should gather supplies first, since it’s the easiest task on the list. I need to find wood, stone, rope stuffs, and clay.”

These materials were trivial, as Neil had already found and worked with most on the list already. Clay was simple to find, a casual glance to the brook's pebbled shoreline betrayed a sizable patch of raw red clay, red as brick. He spent nigh on two hours gathering firewood, braking sticks into bundles, and finding poles for tool making. Now that he could walk, rope material in the woods were accessible, and he gathered them with the clearing in sight and sturdy spear at hand. Stones were everywhere; mere minutes were spent piling a bunch for whatever purpose he needed. The more tedious work was along the shore, seeking quartz, flint, agate, anything that could hold an edge. Finding such stones demanded Neil's close attention.

Upon finishing the first set of tasks, Neil surveyed his work and felt an odd sense of primitive wealth and healthy pride. In his life before today, the boy passionately studied primitive man without the ability to fully relate with them. Everything about the present situation added to the teen's respect of his ancestry in ways no other could, a subtle reconnection to an otherwise untouchable lineage.

With a sigh of contented accomplishment, Neil checked off his work list:

1: Acquire materials:
~~wood for tools and building,~~
~~stone for the same,~~
~~rope stuffs,~~
~~and find a clay resource.~~

Whimpering filled Neil's ears, and a sharp pang of sudden worry chilled his spine. Looking back to the young creature, the boy's eyes widened in horror. He saw the black slime resume its conquest of its poor host with sickening vigor.

In rapid succession, Neil opened the peroxide bottle and soaked a cloth. He dabbed the pop's affliction; it viciously hissed before a black tendril lashed from the putrid mass and struck his hand. Recoiling in surprise, Neil realized this was no mere fungal infection!

Panting, while both disturbed and afraid for his new pet's life, he felt like there was something he had missed, some point he forgot. Luna came to mind and the memory of the cure she prescribed. She said a hanging moss resembling an old wizard’s beard can kill this repulsive stuff. Desperately looking around, Neil spied a plant of just such a description hanging from a high branch.

Looking to the poor timberwolf, he nodded to it with sincerity. “Don’t worry, pal. I’ve got you.” Admittedly, there are few emergencies in life where chancing advice from a dream would be appropriate. This was such a moment. As he approached the plant, an anxious fear, separate from the immediate problem, itched in the nape of his mind: the idea that his dream might teach him something he had no previous knowledge of. Such an instance would be like picking a rose in said dream then waking up with it still in hand. Ahh, what if it was so? he couldn't help but wonder after grabbing some of the sage’s beard.

How to concoct a medicine from it, though? He quickly recalled a part of Manly’s book on the Production of Primitive Medicines, after retaking a seat by the pup. The method was simplistic: boil the medicinal plant into a concentrated tea and dab the liquid on the wound, or grind the plant into a poultice and use a leaf as a bandage. He hadn’t made any tools for grinding food yet. Instead, he took the improvised lunchbox pot, and poured some water to boil over the fire. Hopefully, the dosage would work itself out with the fistful of moss he threw in. Neil was no apothecary and hardly knew much more about herbalism.

Thankfully, he still had the plant guide, which offered more techniques of making wild medicines; but, with no time for leisurely reading, he would study it more after curing the pup. Once the water bubbled, he stirred it with a stick and watched the home-brew turn into a yellowy congealed liquid. It held the stick when pressed like a clear oobleck. What a peculiar development! It seemed to the forlorn teen, even simple moss held tantalizing secrets in this tenebrous place.

Taking a handful of the medicinal non-Newtonian liquid, Neil knew a cloth wouldn't absorb it. Just as he wondered how to apply the wild drug, from the slime grew a tendril which opened on the end to reveal a singular demonic eye!

From what unnameable bilge came such a hellish thing?!

"Holy shit!" Neil screamed, "you're nasty!"

As the mort fungus nearly covered the young beast's panting chest, Neil just glared into the crawling black scum's single parasitic eye with a blood chilling scowl. "I've got something for you, filth." He tossed the medicine onto the crawling bilge spawn.

The parasite screeched then undulated like bubbling tar as the oobleck animated and dissolved the infection off the timberwolf pup. Moments after the last of the obliterated slime oozed lifelessly to the dirt, pure satisfaction relived Neil's tense nerves when the pup stood on its own power. It promptly jumped up to him with surprising force, and knocked him to the floor. It affectionately licked his face as its tail wagged madly.

Neil laughed, and felt so happy the pup was alright now. The image of that parasite's sickening eye still sent shivers of revulsion through his body. Pushing himself to a seat on the dirt, the puppy hopped off and bounced about energetically. It batted at small round stones like a cat plays with a yarn ball, and with a large stick in its mouth it ran around making spirals in the bare earth. With the mort infection gone, it seems the youngling regained all its childlike flight, fancy, and enthusiasm.

Look at it go... Neil gawked at the inconceivable rate of its recovery. The xeno was almost dead but minutes ago; now, the little eldritch spawn can't keep still. "Well, at least the clearing is livelier." Neil left the timberwolf to its antics, seeing as it was no longer in danger. He read over his list of tasks, and chose to procure a food source, as he was about to fall victim to hunger at this rate.

Fishing was still out of the question, as he needed to make more spears in order to fish again before nightfall; thus, foraging seemed a more attractive objective for immediate sustenance. Taking his spear, knife, and some rope in case, he studied his old red scarf thoughtfully before leaving camp. The creative wheels in his mind turned and birthed a clever idea. He tied some more rope about the scarf and made a pouch with a shoulder loop. It was a simple, and effective, bag.

The pup approached and sniffed the new creation, then sat and panted, happily staring up at Neil.

"You like it?" Neil asked.

The young creature tilted a curious head, as if to ask, what do your sounds mean? Or, maybe Neil was simply letting his imagination run rampant.

With a shrug, Neil took the gear and told his new pet to stay, and even motioned the same with his hands. It took a few tries, but it learned and obeyed reasonably fast. Huh, this thing is definitely not dull witted.

After several minutes of venturing into the woods, an eerie feeling began gnawing at Neil. The darkening mists, and dense air, embraced him uncomfortably. Unnameable vegetation, and smells of old rot and something else beyond words, immersed him in wonder. One thing was certain: this forest was an ancient place, simply due to the sheer size of the trees. With every step into the deepening wood, Neil felt increasingly estranged and unwelcome. Before he hiked too far from camp, the boy knew he'd better climb one of these huge trees and gain his bearings.

Spying an ascendable tree, and placing his gear near its prodigious roots, Neil began to climb. After several minutes of careful toil, he broke the canopy, then spied an unutterable horror. It was a sea of green. In all directions, he saw only a thick endless mass of wilderness writhing in the winds, rolling up stoic mountains and humble hills.

Now, the tiny boy felt like a singular germ within a living system that stretched beyond the microcosmic horizon. Hope for rescue, should the idea still be permissibly entertained, had lost its last struggle. There was no hope of being found under the suffocating canopies of this unending land ocean.

Neil remained put, as the sun beat on his shoulders, and the hard truth reforged his reality. Guessing he was at least three stories over the ground, and knowing his personal height was 5' 10", he mentally calculated the horizon extended close to eight miles. God knows how far it further extended beyond that. "I'm the only Human within eight or more miles." He lamented finally, with sweaty palms clasping his head, "that's just over sixty-two square miles of nothing but murder forest!" Seeing no signs of civilization as he looked again, his breathing quickened. There was not a city, nor a tower, or a square, nothing but the small red tint of some distant roof to his right, nothing...wait a roof?!

Neil screamed in rapture at finally seeing the red dot of something artificial in the distance. It seemed like a barn of some sort; yet, it was hard to tell effectively at such a distance, but he guessed the building was five or six miles away.

His laughter and shouts of joy slowly silenced, as a gentle flame grew within. His eyes narrowed with a increasingly fierce gaze centered on that building. The flame matured to a blaze, as his grip on the waving branches tightened. Neil's motivation to survive and conquer intoxicated him with a sheer force that washed away any doubt or contrary thought. No matter how far it is, or how difficult the task might prove, he would penetrate this land ocean and capture his rescue under that roof. That building was his ticket out of this hell and he would grasp it, now!

Descending the mighty tree with a vigor borderline hysterical, Neil marched right back to camp, forgetting his previous mission of food acquisition, or pet care, or making a home in this malicious forest. His only worry was successfully approaching the door of the home he saw. With all the tools he could gather, his backpack, the weapons, and the improv' scarf bag filled with berries, the boy began his long hike into the shadowed wood with a fire behind his determined eyes, and permanently put this clearing behind him.

Why commit to survival, when he could hike half a day to secure rescue? The pup would survive, now the infection had been cured. Neil couldn't stand one more second than necessary in this place. He didn't look back. He had the weapons to fight another one of those timberwolves.

At the huge roots of the mighty tree from before, the boy gained his bearings and walked onward, through thicket, mossy ravine, over shadowed brooks, and past twisted tenebrous arcades of viny trees, whose sheer scope betrayed the forest's uncountable antiquity.

He penetrated a stubborn wall of brush and vine, then happened upon a stately stretch of less dense woodland and loose canopy. It was nice to see an end to the previously gloomy and shadow stained deeper wood. Sun beams greeted his focused eyes and showed the way as he continued his exodus to rescue. While checking his bearings to ensure he had not deviated from the target, a deer broke from the brush with a rattle of branch and shaken leaf.

Spying the good creature, Neil smiled, happy to finally see some normal and benign wildlife for a change. Once having assured the accuracy of his march toward the safety of distant habitation, his passing approach didn't disturb the deer at first. It finally took notice when the boy stood ten yards away.

The boy waved at the good beast warmly. "Hi there-

Suddenly, from the depths of some hidden unfathomable hell, a spider twice his size emerged from a trapdoor of earth, moss, and grass stuck together with webbing. Its poisoned mandibles gripped the poor deer's neck with an audible rip of hide and crunch of bone. Just as fast, the abomination picked up the 140 pound meal like a toy and hauled the instantly killed corpse into its underground domain.

Neil blinked. No evidence but the memory remained of the deer's previous existence. Mouth shocked agape, mind blank with a gripping fear of such sudden terror his body shook uncontrollably, he searched for any distinguishing signs between the solid earth and the spider’s trap door. The monster's lair camouflaged seamlessly after closing, making the trap seemingly indistinguishable from normal earth, until it was too late.

Neil realized he had been holding his breath, and explosively let it go through flaring nostrils. He glared at his surroundings with a sickening paranoia. How many more of those hidden demons lied in wait but feet away from taking him? For all he knew, he could be standing on one's very door, making stillness his only means of life!

The trees rattled a deathly toll, as spindly terrors crept and dangled from a canopy once seemingly benign, now hopelessly malignant with animate nightmares. Spiders of equal measure slowly pushed their doors ajar from below as smaller thinner ones descended from above.

Once the monstrosities settled their many eyes upon Neil, like a thousand unforeseen curses, the animating nest of giant arachnids bore an unforgiving promise of sudden annihilation. The predatory orbs shone in the lighting like a sea of black jewels. The flesh tearing mandibles below betrayed the malicious intent behind those stoic, unyielding, uncounted gems. The creatures advanced, salivating digestive juices which audibly plopped to the dead earth. Thin singular wisps of toxic vapors wafted as the venom tainted the soil. Faint hissing and creaking of chitinous joints announced the eight legged convergence to welcome their savory guest to the deadly meadow.

Neil turned on his heels and sprinted in maddened haste for the outer thickets he emerged from before. Into the brush he plunged himself. Fear drunk, he clawed at the vegetation like a beast. The dense green harbored no pity, and seemed bent on preventing his escape from the encroaching arachnid horde. The green sticks and twigs struck his face. Thorns drew blood on soft hand and arm. Branches caught his clothes and gear. Malicious roots and branches tripped him to the ground, and sinister vines held the frantic boy as he pushed himself to stand. Upon finally tearing through these wild fetters with sheer desperate force, the pebbled soil that worked into his shoes gnawed at the tender feet inside with every harried step in retreat.

Unbeknownst to Neil, the spiders had lost interest since he cleared the murderous brush. They returned to their spindly crypts beneath the deadly meadow's venom poisoned earth and the nests in the deceptive canopy above.

Heart pounding, blood cold, Neil ran until one last stubborn root caught his foot, sending his face into the dirt. Groaning as he righted himself to his soiled elbows, he spied both his comely campsite with awed eyes and a timberwolf pup, glaring at him with a deep concern for its new master's current ragged condition. Neil sighed the most explosive burst of air in his life, for he managed to escape a most gruesome death.

All in all, one singular fact effectively stained Neil's hardening emotions:

This forest is a festering abomination!

Neil glared at his dirt stained hands after standing, “If this horrible place has an army of mutant freaks to stop me from getting out, and since an ICBM is momentarily out of the question, then I’m going to need bigger weapons, lot’s of them." Clenching the soiled hands to fists, as inner writhing anger challenged his temperament, he whispered coldly to the living horror holding him hostage and to its hell spawn, spawn ignorant of the alien they've mistaken for easy pray, "this means war."

Part Six

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"Six miles to rescue." Neil mused to himself, scheming one plan after another, trying to figure out a means of crossing the deadly meadow. With a shake of his head and a deep groan, everything seemed futile. In every idea his imagination eventually lead to being surrounded and dead. There was no way to cut through the giant spiders, nor out run them. For now, the direct route was impassible.

Neil would have to go around the meadow, which added many miles of vicious forest to the journey. "Six plus miles to rescue," he corrected himself somberly.

The hunter finished wrapping and twisting long bark strips into the last section of rope. Two hours of labor amounted to three twenty foot lashings, and eighteen feet of rope. He ceased making cordage, as ignoring the hunger any further proved too painful. The phantom taste of moist fish, steaming with fresh heat from the fire, spiced with char and smoke, invaded his senses and mercilessly tested his sanity.

The berries ceased to sate. This discomfort made him sick, put his nerves on edge, and left his brain in a haze. Neil complained with his face in his hands, "hypoglycemia suuucks!" He eyed through parted fingers to the brook several yards away with a sharpened vigor.

He took the single new fishing spear he fashioned while making rope and approached the brook edge. Looking into the still pool's clear water, he spied the fat fish. The rookie hunter named it, Moby Dick. It was acceptably white, the biggest fish in the pool, and it earned his vengeance. Look at that fat fuck practically mocking him, swimming around like it owns the place, like he was no threat at all!

Or... maybe it was just minding its own business.

Before he dipped a foot in the pool, sudden writhing stomach pains struck violently. Gasping in fear of losing control, Neil dropped his spear, and raced for a bush. Nature hadn't called; it screamed. Apparently, eating one's fill of berries and crawdads for over twenty-four hours leads to violent, and foul, consequences.

After the purge, and cleansing as best as he could, Neil buried the mess, then walked with quivering legs to the campfire to recover his strength. He took a seat away from the heat. When mixed with the cold sweat, it worsened his nausea, for some reason. While hugging his knees to alleviate the pain, the puppy came by and bumped his ankle with its head in a feline fashion, then sat between his legs, locking big youthful eyes with Neil's pain saddened gaze. There was genuine sympathy in them. How curious.

"It's alright, girl." Neil rubbed a shaky hand over its surprisingly soft bark. In fact, the skin of this pup felt softer than cork. It even stretched, to his astonishment. And, yet, it was tougher and thicker than normal skin. Neil wondered just how durable it was. The timberwolf felt room temperature, perhaps no warmer than 70 degrees.

The pup panted like a dog, but it also began purring. Maybe, it's not merely imitating a dog, or cat, but genuinely has their characteristics? Neil gasped in a sudden revelation of insight: if that's true, then this creature, these timberwolves, are symbionts! How could some genes of plant life form a symbiosis with two different mammals during its evolution? The notion boggled Neil's mind.

How many established avenues of science would be shattered by this creature?

Maybe, he was getting ahead of himself. Perhaps, this really is just an imitation and not actual symbiosis. "Whatever you are, girl, you're certainly incredible." Neil smiled down to her. He decided to study it from now on, record the findings, and keep the journal for himself. It is unlikely anyone would believe it anyway, even if he escaped this prison.

His thoughts changed gear as the boy wrote down things about the timberwolf. Neil rhetorically asked while pointing at the creature, "do you have a gender?" He continued more to himself, "if you are a symbiont, you should have one. Even plants are dimorphic, so are mammals but in a different way."

The pup blissfully continued to purr and pant, still sitting by his ankle. Her little mycelium covered tongue hung to the side of her mouth. The boy reached down to scratch her behind the ear. She loved it.

Neil chuckled, then smirked while thinking sarcastically, maybe I should ask Luna.

A chill up his spine cooled his warm gaze, as he stared into space. Luna, the dream named the disease that nearly killed his new pet, and mentioned its cure. A dream cannot grant someone knowledge they hadn't previously known... could it? If Luna had taught him something new, would that not count as evidence she was telling the truth? He couldn't know something beyond his mind, which logically meant she was not a part of it. Neil's challenge to Luna rang in his mind again. The line between fantasy and reality had grown dangerously thin of late.

Neil quickly took the book of edible and medical fauna, and under mosses and lichens he found a passage about Spanish moss, or old man's beard. It had antimicrobial properties and made a great wound dressing. Best of all, he knew of it before meeting Luna. Neil sighed in relief, thinking his brain was merely tricking him; yet, the disgusting eye of that mort-form still glared at him from the past.

The line grew yet thinner.

A knot formed in his stomach, and he placed the book back on the large slate next to him. According to Luna, she was a dream walking telepathic alien princess. Now, there were some strange things in this nightmare of a forest, Neil must admit; but, a line in all this crazy must be drawn somewhere! Murder symbiont monstrosities that also heal wounds with their saliva? Alright, that's apparently real. Giant fuck off spiders that will eat your face? Okay, why not? But brain invading aliens? Fuuck that noise! Neil would rather pee lightening than deal with such a mary sue of a creature.

What could he do against a thing like that, fight it with sharp sticks and sarcasm? Or, maybe it would just lobotomize him from a distance immediately. He could see how such an encounter might go:

Gadzooks, free will? Forsooth, I have no use for that.

Zink

Now, no slave has need of a personality.

Zap

And only a necessary amount of intellect is required.

Zzurt

I suppose that will do, for now. Come hither, slave, and follow.

"Uugh." Neil the lobotomite obeyed, dragging his feet like Igor from Frankenstein.

"Over my dead body!" Neil violently broke a thin tree limb over his knee and fed it to the campfire, then sighed at himself. This is nonsensical. He must be making some grievous mistake somewhere. Clearly, his mind is enfeebled by hunger. Things should start making sense again after a good meal.

Scowling, he took Manly's book, on Becoming a Cavemen, and flipped through it. Neil gazed upon a gripping and yet unsettling passage under Chapter 5, the Art of the Hunt.

One secret to the art of spear fishing is understanding that water refracts light. Objects under the water's surface appear higher than they actually are. Therefore, the trick is to aim slightly below the fish. If the goal is not to throw the spear, aim the tip underneath the surface before striking.

"Water refraction, I forgot!" Neil could scream at himself. Ranting under his breath, he knocked his head with both fists. "I'm so stupid, stupid, stupid." The would-be fishermen silently wished for a photographic memory. He stood to finally reap his dinner.

Curiously, the timberwolf watched Neil grab the sharp stick from the ground and return to the quiet pool. She followed and sat to peer over the still water. What was the friendly large thing going to do with that stick?

Neil took a centering breath. Gripping the pronged spear, shin deep in the pool, he poised the tip underneath the water and waited. Moby Dick drew close, chasing another crawdad for dinner. The sun, still young in the sky, had set for this trout.

Spear tip wet, predatory eyes locked on the pray, Neil aimed below the moving fat trout's image. It swam close enough, and before it ate the crayfish, the hunter drove the spear straight into the creature. A modicum of disbelief rushed with his quickening heart as the spear's handle tugged in his grip. Pulling the tool above the water, Neil beheld the beautiful sight of a first real meal. He howled to the wilds, "thus, I give up the spear!"

After gutting and roasting the prize over the crackling campfire, Neil pulled off a piece of steaming flaky meat from the skewered trout. He ate and rolled his eyes in ecstasy, savoring slowly this most decadent thing. Although, that might be the hunger talking. Taking the skewer from the fire, the ravenous boy dug in. After finishing, Neil promptly left to catch another. He returned with three more fish and had himself a feast.

All the while, his pet timberwolf stayed at a distance, watching him with a keen interest. Neil finished the last of the fish after an hour of dinning. Finally, his hunger pains were gone. He tossed the leftovers beyond the tree line and face palmed in sudden realization they would've made a good broth. Too late now. The forest's blanket of dead leaves had eaten the bones happily; but, he managed to recover three heads and two tails.

Filling his charred lunch box halfway with water by the brook side, the breeze shifted and Neil swore he smelled a smell, the kind of smell that smelled smelly, smelly like pizza. He spied a bushy plant with lush purple flower clusters growing from long green stems. Inspecting the plant closer, he recognized the pleasant odor. Sampling the plant's green leaf confirmed his suspicion.

"It's oregano, wild oregano!" This will make a great spice for the broth.

At the fire, Neil placed the fish parts and the herb in the box and set it on some glowing coals. Fed and content for the moment, he lied back to rest on the log and soak up some heat from the crackling fire. There was a slight nip in the air. The temperature had dropped fast; or, maybe Neil was too distracted by hunger to notice at first? Rubbing his exposed arms for warmth, Neil had no way of knowing the temperature without his phone.

Neil gasped like a fish out of water before raising to his feet frantically, startling the timberwolf pup laying by his side. "I forgot about my phone!" He searched his pant pockets and found them empty, save for some pebbles and crushed leaf residue. He felt this prickle slowly ascend his back palm suddenly. It was a tick!

"Graaaahhh!" Neil flicked the parasite off. How long had it been in there?! Apparently, the little bastard was fed tactical strike plans from the Viet Cong and ambushed him from his pocket! Wait, he shook his pants over by that pine tree yesterday!

Quickly searching the area by the very tree, he saw his smartphone atop the leaves on the ground. Snatching it, Neil checked the battery. It read 40%. The time was 8:43 P.M., and it detected no signal, of course. So much for calling for help. If there is a residence not seven miles away, then how can there be zero service? What the hell is this, Wyoming?

"Hey, Wyoming!" Neil yelled to the wilds, "you have a demonic mold and symbiont problem!" Hey, that explains why Wyoming is the least populated state in the country. Yeah, the people are too busy dying in the forest, alone, and without phone service! Disgusted, Neil just returned to camp.

Sitting on the log, and retrieving his fish broth from the fire, Neil ironed out what to do next while sipping the snack. "Huh, not bad." The wild oregano was fragrant, with notes of citrus, and the broth warmed his bones. It was like a comfort food.

Neil had some time left until midday... wait, what? Neil checked the phone again. The time read 8:54 P.M. His jaw slowly drooped. Disbelieving his eyes, they widened and swept side to side. Neil scowled at the sun peeking through the thick canopy, still hours behind hanging above his head. Both time instruments agreed, his broken watch, and phone, it should be near dusk already.

What the fuck? Neil's blood pressure rose. "Maybe I'm on a different part of the planet and switched timezones?" He placed a hand over his pounding heart to steady it. "Yeah, I'm just in a different timezone. That's all."

Suddenly, the treeline rustled. Head darting to see what made the noise, Neil noticed the puppy hugging low to the ground. Her branchlike ears pinned back to the head, she prepared to pounce on something moving in the brush.

She leaped into the leaves and rustled with whatever she caught. Frantic squeaks and eeps erupted from the commotion, then silence. The symbiont returned from the brush, holding a large dead rat in her jaws triumphantly. Little stick tail wagging, she placed the rodent at Neil's feet, panting with a smug grin.

"Wooah, girl! This is for me?" Wide eyed, he held up the plump kill. This forest rat was bigger than her, but it didn't stand a chance! "Look what you did!" He rubbed her head affectionately. "Good girl! What a little hunter you are! This will make a nice stew." Guess who'll guard the camp when I'm out?

Hunter, provider, protector, mmmm... that inspired Neil with a possible name. "Artemis."

The wolf's ears perked up, and the evergreen needles attached vibrated. She didn't know what that meant; but, something about the sound sent shivers through her body. Deep down, it felt like that was meant for her. The big thing said it again, louder, "Artemis." She barked and wagged her tail. It was definitely saying that for her.

"She is the Greek goddess of the hunt, and of magic." Neil leaned down to her. "Is that you, Artemis?"

Artemis jumped into the thing's lap, and let it know much she loved that sound by bumping him on the head with hers.

Neil smiled at how excited she was over her new name. He held her small form up. "It's settled." She licked his face. He didn't mind the strong smell of penicillin. It's the cleanest his cheek had been since the fall.

Wanting to test something, he set her down on the ground. Artemis had demonstrated an acute intellect, and Neil wanted to know just how smart a symbiont was. He pointed to himself and said his name. "Neil." He pointed to her. "Artemis." He did this two more times.

The timberwolf stared with its head cocked, studying his every move keenly.

"Okay, here goes." Neil breathed, then said without pointing, "Artemis."

The wolf remained staring quizzically. It did nothing more.

Neil face-palmed. "Ugh. What am I doing teaching an animal English?" But, just as he let his hand fall, Artemis had placed a paw onto her chest. His eyes bulged from their sockets. "Whoa!" He swallowed the lump in his throat, and dared to ask, "Neil?"

Artemis rose, walked over to him, then placed a paw onto his leg. Something of a knowing smile was plastered on her face as she panted up to him. He could swear the words, did I do it? lurked behind her young glowing eyes.

“By Plato's beard, how smart are you!?" Neil scratched both sides of her jaw, and she nearly fell over kicking her leg. "You're perfect, and so is your name."

The pup recovered, then contemplated this exchange. This thing was called a, Neil, what a strange sound. Neils are friendly, give wonderful scratches, can hold water, and save your life. Artemis concluded that Neils are amazing, and beautiful! This Neil is now a timberwolf. He is part of her family, and she will never leave him.

Sighing contentedly, Neil rose from his seat, and wrote down his discovery on timberwolves. After, he took the other notebook from his backpack and read the list of objectives for the week again. "Finding food in this forest with just a stone spear is proving to be bad idea. I need a ranged weapon." He pondered aloud, "I don't have time to make a bow today. That might take several days. I need something comparable in the mean time. Hmmmm." Neil considered his materials, and time, then snapped his fingers. "Ah ha! The atlatl! That compromises between a spear and a bow."

Neil took Manly's book and read the part about making the weapon:

As the ingenuity of primitive man expanded, so too did their weapons become deadlier and more sophisticated. When our ancestors hunted or fought for survival, simple throwing spears where used to great effect. However, this practice was done in groups that covered for those who deprived themselves of their spears. So, if but one man released his spear he would become the pray, unless the target died before reaching him. Further still, the throwing power of the human arm alone is uncomfortably limited.
However, one clever caveman discovered that using a notched cane to throw spears instead was a vast improvement. This is the Atlatl, or more simply, a spear-thrower. Its leverage launched the projectile with more power, at deadlier speeds, and from a safer distance to the target than by hand. The spears evolved into long slender darts with feathers fletched to the base for better stability. Small weights, called bannerstones, were later tied to the midsection of the atlatl to improve its power, range, accuracy, and to help further silence it when fired.
The atlatl dominated the face of primitive hunting and warfare until the advent of the bow. Any aspiring caveman would be foolish to overlook this tool.

All details for making the perfect spear-thrower were contained in this chapter. Using the picture provided as a guide, Neil gathered the supplies, and built an atlatl as close to the image as he could. Now, the sun was finally above his head, midday at last.

Wasting no time, Neil built a mud target and several practice fire hardened darts out of some black bamboo he found nearby. The length of the projectiles amazed him; they were like noodle spears. He couldn't fletch them yet. No need to anyway, not for practicing.

Artemis watched Neil toss a really long stick with a small stick at some dirt. She didn't understand this game; but, watching amused her.

I Missed. Neil sighed, the first of many. He had practiced archery when he was young; that was far more difficult than shooting a rifle. But, this was in a league of it own. How anyone could feed themselves with this awkward 'weapon' seemed like magic. The next shot stayed on the notch and embedded itself two feet in front of him. If this wasn't real life, the Seinfeld theme would be playing. "This could take a while."

For the rest of the evening, Neil practiced his ranged skills, and after coming to terms that his phone will die eventually, he wanted to build a sundial, but lacked the sunlight to do it. The scowling boy flipped off the sun choking canopy above. "Prick."

Taking a break from shooting, the survivor built some more advanced tools: a stone axe, hatchet, and an adze. The hardest part was shaping the basalt chunks into axe heads and grinding the edges to a smooth polish to strengthen it. While scouting the woods for handles, he also found a nice straight branch that will, eventually, become his bow. After the work, his back ached from being hunched over for so long, not to mention his fingers felt like falling off.

With these tools, improving the campsite was only a matter of time, and nothing could stop him now.

At least, the boy believed his success was inevitable, and operated with the conviction as he practiced shooting, gathering supplies, fishing, and foraging. Three days later, Neil felt confident enough to leave the camp for the first time since nearly dying in the deadly meadow. Artemis stayed behind.

The plan today was to hunt his first deer. His darts where flint tipped and fletched with crow feathers after he caught one in a deadfall trap. Luckily, the bird loved fish heads a little too much.

The boy traveled in a new direction over the brook. He saw no deer, but remained optimistic. They where everywhere when he wasn't hunting them. Of course, now, he couldn't find one after an hour of trekking. He didn't give up and pressed on. Soon, he pushed through some thick brush that came up to his abdomen before hearing something snap some twigs nearby. Neil ducked into the bushes and waited.

Maybe it's a deer, he wondered hopefully, holding fast his atlatl and dart quiver strung to his hip. An excited smile grew on his scarred features. However, the steps grew louder and heavier. Moments later, the forest vibrated under his feet with each step the thing took. The shaking grew stronger, and Neil's skin tingled as the hair of his neck stood up. His gut screamed danger. This was no deer.

Nothing could have been more true.

Just when Neil wondered if he should slowly edge out of this quagmire, it swallowed him in. Something, some massive creature ruptured from the forest's shadowy edge but twenty yards away. It lumbered forth. The ground shook under each monstrous step.

Neil's blood chilled in his veins. His muscles spasmed before solidifying in paralyzed terror. His frozen wide eyes took the beast's form in its every unholy detail.

The living horror, drawing close enough he could smell it, was nearly too heinous to describe. The creature looked as though hundreds of equally horrible beasts tried to kill it, but failed. Scars and patches of missing gray fur both large and small tore across it's muscled furred body, leaving it a hideous patchwork of pain and past savagery. Huge mud stained paws gripped into the ground with claws that better resembled dirty scythes.

It's bat-like wings were ripped in the fleshy webbing and healed over chunks of missing meat dotted the wing frames. While, a giant scorpion tail hung above, poised to strike at a moment's notice. Scratches and light gashes littered the tail's thick exoskeleton.

Sniffing the air, and grunting in low bone rattling growls, the thirsting thing loomed its massive head to stare at the boy. A crazed unearthly look in its eyes sucked the courage from Neil's soul.

Surely it couldn't see him, hiding in the shadows of the brush. The hole between Neil and the patchwork beast was just large enough to peer through, but not see into from the other side... right? Every inch of the thing screamed death and doom. He was dead if it saw him.

Its eyes scanned the treeline, then walked on and vanished into the darkness of the thicker undergrowth beyond. Neil's muscles relaxed and shook as he breathed like the oxygen had been sucked from his blood. He rose slowly to retreat back to camp. No deer is worth whatever that thing was.

Then, in mid rise to his feet, he knew exactly what it was: a manticore, and a goddamn freak of one too. A living mythological beast stalked this forest. This is actually impossible. Manticores are not real. They can't be! He must have... have... Neil tried to calm his breathing. Despite everything, the monster wasn't the only issue, the insinuation bred by its existence was.

This is not earth, Neil finally admitted to himself as he fell to his knees. Only the rotting dead leaves greeted them. Everything culminated into this one moment; the manticore was the catalyst. He was marooned on an alien planet. Helen was an alien. Trisha was right; and, Neil is a deadman. He wished he died in that fall. Rescue was never coming. There is no hope for safety, save the amount he can carve from this hell for himself with his bare hands.

Looking at them, then his arms, and feeling his body, he concluded coldly that he is pathetic. A worm of thin muscles and frail constitution, he is weak. He needs to get stronger, faster, smarter, quickly. It will take more than sticks and stone age wisdom to avail life here. No. Not even his ancestors can help him now. Neil will need every ounce of his humanity to survive at all.

There is no longer a six miles to rescue. There is no red roof of safety; whatever built that roof is not human.

He is the only human here.

It's only him, and the monsters.

Neil scanned his surroundings with new a perspective. He wasn't going home. This is now home. "I'm going to live here for the rest of my life; and if this place will be my grave, I won't live quietly." Something powerful came over the boy, something old, and dark; it swallowed him. Only a light at the end remained, where he must go from here. "I won't cower in the shadows, or in the night. I will become them.

"Let every abomination in this foul place hear me, from the tallest branch to the lowest pit." Neil swore in a low growl, as he turned to face the cracked stump of a pine the manticore snapped in half, "there is no nightmare imaginable here that I cannot defeat. None can eclipse my right to live." In disgust, he scowled intensely at his skinny arms. "This worm will train and grow. I will wear the hides of my predators on my shoulders and clean my teeth with their bones! I will be the scariest creature on this foul planet."

Neil turned and left for home-base. The fire burning inside his soul set any doubts alight.

It's only him now; but, soon it will be the monsters that will run and hide.

Part Seven

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Week One: Scar

Seven days after Oath Day, sweat rolled down Neil's nose as he struggled to push the ground. "Twenty... nine." Arms shaking, he slowly let himself down, then pressed out one final push up. Gritting teeth and shrugging his reddened face, he nearly collapsed from the strain. "Th-thirty!" Neil released with a grunt and face-planted to the dirt. He rolled to lie on his back and do bicycle crunches.

This was arm and abs day, a Sunday.

After finishing the routine two sets of push-ups, pull-ups, and crunches, he took a few fish to roast from the trap in the brook's pool. He made this yesterday: a conic basket weaved from ebony bamboo strips. Once the fish swam in to eat some crayfish bait, they couldn't escape.

Occasionally, the trap would be empty and he had to spear some. He could effectively fish with a spear now. Six days ago, Neil began practicing his spear throwing skills. He can almost hit a fish from the shore.

Four days ago, Neil discovered the brook wasn't the sole fishing source nearby. The brook flowed down hill, Eastward. An hours walk following it lead to a small lake.

Neil spiced the trapped fish with wild oregano and roasted them with a side of baked wild potatoes, stone age fish and chips. Later, he strapped into his backpack then ventured East on sore legs to gather supplies from the lake.

Artemis followed close behind, a collar gently hugging around her neck, made from the pelt of a rat, her first kill. Her growth rate was surprisingly rapid, having since grown from ankle to shin height in one week.

The two survivors continued their walk to the lake. Artemis' ears and glowing green eyes scanned the surroundings. Neil held his spear close and kept the stone hatchet latched to his side on backup. Homebase stood at the large peak of an expansive hill, and the brook flowed down the steep incline. Descending the hillside was tedious. Neil used the spear like a staff and eased himself down.

While midway to the lake, Neil felt something in the distance, like he was being watched.

Artemis halted, arched her back like a cat in Halloween, then growled.

Neil readied his spear, unlatched the hatchet, and reminded himself of his knife placement while tightening the dart quiver strap over his chest; the insects silenced. Something is out there. The warrior listened and waited in the shifting quiet of the shadowed forest. Nothing came and the bugs resumed their chatter. Artemis eased, but crept onward cautiously. Neil followed. Their senses on full alert, the rest of the trip proved uneventful. Whatever it was, it moved on.

The lake had stocks of fish and fresh vegetation galore. A sweet purple melon with yellow insides grows there in the shallows by the mouth of the brook, were the watercress beds also grow. Each melon was the size of a large grapefruit, had the texture of pineapple, and tasted like honey lemonade. The fruit was from the gods. Neil dubbed this divine substance a polymelon, after Polyhymnia, the Muse of agriculture. He named this Lake Terpsichore, the muse of dance and chorus, because she shared interests with Polyhymnia.

A bitter wild grain also grew in the pebbles of the shore. After soaking for three days in some fired clayware, the flavor turns nutty and a bit sour. The plant naturally earned the name, bittergrain. It was palatable as porridge, and could make a decent sour dough one day, given some more testing.

Neil watched Artemis stand in the lake's cool water by some patches of cress. Roots splayed out from her paws under the surface, she sighed in contentment. It never failed to amaze Neil how the symbiont drinks. It uses a root system from its paws to nourish itself, but never by mouth.

The young wolf kept watch in the water while Neil drank and took two handfuls of cress to snack on. The watercress was refreshing and spicy.

Neil sat beside a polymelon patch to rest for a spell, and eat some melons. He offered a chunk to the wolf. She sniffed it. Disinterested, she walked away to the shore and resumed watching the forest for danger.

I have yet to see Artemis eat anything. Does she need to eat, or merely drink and absorb nutrients like a plant? Neil wondered if Artemis's mouth was meant for communication and fighting only. He filled his pack with polymelons and its pockets with grain, ate another divine fruit, and left for home.

Thirty minutes into the trip, when crossing a darker foggy portion of the forest, the eerie feeling returned. The insects shut up, and Artemis froze then growled. This time, something growled back from the darkness.

In the tenuous light, Neil saw a timberwolf emerge from under the dark sprawling roots of a massive ancient tree. Its glowing murderous eyes glared into Neil's soul with intensity. The beast paused in sufficient lighting. A large scar across the left eye betrayed the wolf's identity.

"That scar," Neil snarled; "It's you!" It was the one that tried to kill him before, Scar.

Scar viciously returned the snarl in kind.

Artemis tilted her head and eased a bit. It's one of her people! Why is she so angry? She barked at the other wolf, asking who she was.

Scar considered Artemis for a moment, but said nothing. Only one thing dominated her eyes after retraining them on Neil: kill.

Neil neglected to unlatch the hatchet and root his spear in the ground.

Scar lunged from the roots like a missile, its jaws open to accept his neck.

Neglect Kills.

Artemis jumped and caught Scar with a headbutt to the side.

Scar crashed into Neil instead of biting his neck.

The three tumbled in one mauling, biting, and punching pile down a misty incline. The backpack ripped free from Neil before they hit the bottom. Neil kicked Scar off and stood while fumbling to free the hatchet from the leather loop.

Scar took advantage and rushed in.

But Artemis intervened by standing in her way. Why is Scar doing this? Has she gone mad? Artemis bared her teeth. If this one doesn't stop, she won't hold back. She saw just how much Scar towered over her as the rouge wolf approached. Scar's a monster.

Features stoic as stone, Scar savagely smacked Artemis hard with a paw to the head, sending the smaller wolf crashing to the forest floor in a daze. She moved to end the two legs with renewed prejudice.

That freak hit Artemis. Neil bared his teeth and drew the hatchet in one hand, then a knife in the other. He fixed the most blood chilling scowl he could muster into the symbiont's burning eyes. The combatants circled in the thin mist of the dark forest, measuring each other up. Neil kept his weapons at the ready, while Scar coldly studied his every move for weaknesses

Neil faked a lunge to test the beast. Scar remained unfazed, not flinching in the least. Like a machine she circled just beyond reach of Neil's weapons, but close enough the boy couldn't simply run.

Inexperienced Neil decided to take the offensive with a step forward; he didn't know the stride was too wide and moved his center off balance.

Scar immediately attacked straight into his weakened center.

The hunter realized his mistake too late as Scar plowed into Neil's stomach with his hard wooden head, knocking the wind out of the human.

Scar went for the throat, but chomped into the two leg's arm after her leg caught on something. Her teeth tore through shirt and flesh. It tasted almost as foul as the first time.

Neil drove the knife in Scar's back with all his might, breaking the flint tip into the supple wood. Scar howled and staggered, then hopped up to swat Neil in the face, sending him stumbling away with the momentum.

Neil felt dizzy and weak at the knees. This symbiont hits like a boxer.

Scar turned her cold gaze back to the stuck leg, and found Artemis biting it. Furious, Scar howled to her not to interfere! She shook the little wolf off and into the air with several powerful sweeps of the leg.

Neil saw Artemis hit a tree and fall unconscious to a plat of lichen. Enraged, wide eyes fixed on Scar, the human charged and reared his hatchet to split Scar's skull and finish it. Scar feigned away, only to snatch Neil's hand in mid swing between jaws oozing thick drool. The impact broke something in the hand.

Neil drew and stuck a second blade in Scar's nose. The bite laxed and he tore the hand free.

Scar backed off while frantically pawing at the blade to remove it. How many sharp things does the two legs have?!

Seeing his chance, Neil tackled the beast and held him in a headlock. Snapping at Neil's arms and face, Scar snarled and wrestled to escape with all his bestial might. Neil held and squeezed with all his. He twisted with his body left to right, but Scar's neck was too flexible to break. Neil wrapped his legs around Scar's hind legs then pulled. The neck creaked and bled sap that stuck to his skin. He pulled harder; suddenly, with a low growl, Scar's head snapped clean off.

Momentarily awestruck by the deed, Neil paused to reconcile his headless foe. It was indeed dead. Victory!

Standing triumphant, Neil held up Scar's head and roared to the uncaring wilds with the full power of his lungs.

The echo died, and the forest resumed around him. Neil considered the head of his enemy as a trophy. On second thought, it was honestly an unnecessary weight. The victor tossed it beside the corpse and checked on Artemis. She still lied out cold, but unharmed. Neil carried her over his shoulder, then found the spear, and the rest of his scattered gear. While strapping on the backpack, a strange noise interrupted his victory high.

Slowly looking to the headless corpse of Scar, he watched in abject terror as the head rolled over leaves, rocks, and moss to meet the sap leaking neck, twist itself into place with a wooden crunch, and the eyes slowly glow back to life. It was like something out of a horror novel, or a really bad nightmare.

Timberwolves can regenerate! Are they immortal? Every fiber of Neil's mortal coil screamed run. He held Artemis tight and bolted as Scar reanimated.

The adrenaline kept the worst of the injuries numbed while he ran like a man on fire. Behind, a howl in the distance pushed him harder to gain speed. Dodging branches, logs, and scaling the incline sent his pounding heart into his throat. Neil found the brook again and immersed in it to wash the scent off himself.

Taking cover under a small overhang of roots on the hillside, holding Artemis close, Neil held the other hand over his mouth to mute his labored breathing. It was like that part in Lord of the Rings with the hobbits hiding from a Nazgul under a dirt nook. Neil hoped Scar too would fail to find him.

Disturbed leaves and breaking twigs announced rapid paw steps just yards away. Scar sniffed around, looked every direction, then growled and barked bitterly into the wilds. Minutes of dead silence later, Scar swatted at the leaves on the ground, then howled in anger, obviously cursing for loosing the human. Scar left in a tantrum and faded into the misty umbral forest.

Neil breathed after what felt like forever, before cursing under his breath. He made a promise to himself to never be the pray again. That was before knowing immortals stalked the forest. No. He gazed at his sap stained palm, then clinched it to a fist and gritted his teeth. Not immortal. Nothing that bleeds is immortal. He scowled at the dirty shaking fist. "Damn it. I'm just not strong enough yet."

Neil limped the long path home, his mind swarming with plans on getting stronger and stratagems for the next fight. Scar still lurked out there. Neil couldn't be caught unawares again.

He arrived, a little worse for wear. At least now his food stores would hold until next week. If only humans could eat nothing but fish and remain healthy.

Artemis whimpered in his arms. He watched her eyes come to slits before exploding open. She hopped from Neil's grasp then landed with a puff of dead leaves, growling defensively with an arched back. Her sharp eyes and ears scanned for Scar.

"He's gone, girl." Lightheaded, Neil slowly sat on the log by the fire then fed it wood. "But, not lost." His eyes trailed the treeline. Scar was exactly where he wanted to be. Neil wrote on a note pad to build a perimeter wall, A.S.A.P.

The danger was gone. The scent of metal caught her nose and Artemis looked to Neil. Ears pinned back anxiously, she put a little worried paw on his injured arm, torn shirt exposed chewed pink bark that oozed a red sap. This hurt and worried Artemis. If only she were big enough to lick it better. She hated Scar. There can be no forgiveness for this.

"Don't worry. I'll fix it." Neil tied a dressing of old sage's beard to the wound tightly and staunched the blood. There was no threat of infection, since there is a humorous irony to fighting a timberwolf: if it doesn't kill you, the wounds sustained in the fight won't. They heal too quickly.

Neil ran a hand through his hair, and gasped at the sudden horrendous pain in his chewed hand. The middle bone of the pinky finger was broken in half and bent unnaturally to the side. The urge to vomit struck violently, as throbbing waves of pain beat him like a drunken biker. Neil gulped apprehensively. Biting on a rag, he set the finger back in place with a sickening snap.

There are no words to express that kind of pain. With the worst over, Neil made a primitive finger splint and tied the pinky to his ring finger. Fortunately, the bone didn't break the skin; yet, he read somewhere that if bone marrow enters the blood stream it could cause a fever. Hopefully, a finger doesn't count.

He stared at the half disabled hand and wiggled its three functional fingers. It hurt. Hard work just got harder, and he didn't have time to heal for a month. Having half a hand could spell doom in half that time. He looked to Artemis still sitting beside him, her features remained distraught for him. Neil reassuringly pet her head while wondering if timberwolf saliva could also mend bones faster. Neil had a clever idea.

Clicking his tongue, he knew it would heal fine should the procedure fail; Neil sliced the top skin of the pinky just above the break with an agate knife, then smeared Artemis' drool on it. Theoretically, everything should heal much faster. He redressed it with gauze and popsicle sticks from the medical kit.

The survivor's face stung and he wiped away red sweat. Three fresh cuts ran over his right cheek and forehead, a gift from Scar's claw. He dressed those cuts with a poultice made of oregano and symbiont saliva, then immersed himself in work.

Time was the last thing Neil wasted, but nothing. All goals were given a rationed period of time per day: working on the bow, building the hut, making more tools, etc. Nothing could take too long, or the essentials like firewood, food, or maintenance go neglected when nightfall comes. Neglect kills.

After gathering wood for the fire, Neil sat to finish shaping his bow stock with a flint blade. After smoothing and apprising it to satisfaction, he moved on to baking the hut's clay and slate floor with a large bonfire. It took nearly all day, but the firing worked. The final product was a mix of clay fired whitish red and charred slate. Neil stomped a foot down. It felt solid as stone and its aesthetics were pleasing. It would last, wet or dry. Perfect.

Darkness fell. Under the warmth of the deer skins, a knife in hand, and Artemis snuggled close, Neil slept with one eye half open to peer under the viewing gap in the lean-to's hide divider. It hovered high enough from the ground to see the paws of whatever ventured into his domain. This world taught him to sleep cautiously.

Out there, somewhere, Scar stalked in the dark, like a demon thirsting for the soul of its mark. But, Neil knew of something larger, something far, far worse haunting the endless green, the Manticore. He saw neither hide nor hair of it since last week. Not even thirteen days since being trapped here and he already made two great enemies, still, things were moving along.

Fortunately, this night went calmly, but dreamlessly.

Week Two: the Zebra

At dawn, a noise disturbed Neil's sleep. His eyes snapped open and his hand gently held Artemis' muzzle closed to muffle her growls. Seeing under the divider, he watched massive paws of soiled gray fur trounce his forest home. A petrifying grumble reverberated in Neil's ears and echoed in his bones. The manticore was paying him a visit, the horror of the forest, a curse of scars and patches, the first intruder of Neil's domain.

An appropriate name for this nightmare on legs came to Neil's mind, Patches, for the beast's identity clearly lied in his disfigurements and how he got them.

Neil held his breath and hid deeper under the soft skins of the moss bed, hoping they would mask his scent.

Patches sniffed the air, sharpened his blade-like paws on the baked hut floor, devoured some fish in the brook, then turned to leave in the direction of Lake Terpsichore. Something gave him pause. Soulless eyes wide as melons gazed to the Southern side of the clearing. A scaly chicken emerged from behind one of the great trees with eyes glowing red. The chicken then levitated; but to Neil's amazement, the fowl actually had the body of a large snake for a tail!

The mutant's aggression towards Patches was short lived. One devastating swipe of his paw severed the chicken's head, sending it flying into the West brush twenty meters away. Nonchalantly, Patches resumed his travels to the lake.

Neil shivered with Artemis under the covers for a while. When the coast was clear, he left the lean-to, found the head, then investigated the alien corpse. It was another symbiont, a compound beast of both fowl and reptile. The creature didn't reanimate like Scar. Interesting, Neil thought, Why would timberwolves regenerate but not this symbiont?

Artemis smelled the creature. Is it dead? She struck it with a paw. Yep. It's dead.

Something bothered Neil. He felt like this alien was familiar. It took a moment to recall why. Shaking his head, Neil gestured to it. "It's a cockatrice. Of course it is." It didn't surprise him, with all the shit he's seen. You know you live in some fuck when mythology becomes your bestiary.

Moving on, Neil carefully closed the symbiont's eyes shut. Legends say the cockatrice can kill you with one look. If the decapitated head still retained its powers like medusa's head did for Perseus, then Neil must be cautious. He needed to test it. Looking to the brook, he wondered if fish would be affected. Why not?

He took a trout from the trap, opened the cockatrice's eyes, and had them stare at the fish. Nothing happened. Some part of Neil felt relief, another part disappointment. How cool would've it been to have a weapon like medusa's head? Oh well. Neil gathered some feathers from the head, then tossed it into the brook.

After breakfast, and processing the cockatrice's parts, he found the beast's skin very strong and the scales nigh impervious to cutting and stabbing. It meant two things: one, this stuff is like chainmail had a baby with leather. This will make great light armor, belts, bags, what have you. Two, Patches can cut through this natural chainmail like butter. Yikes.

There was only enough here to make gauntlets, maybe a quiver.

Neil tested his broken pinky, and smiled after bending it without pain. The bone mended overnight. Timberwolf saliva could heal any injury like Kryptonian stem cells.

Neil thanked fortune for Artemis, then decided to make a pair of gauntlets.

Using a blend of deer hide and the cockatrice skin, Neil fashioned a pair of fine hand and forearm protection. The scales shimmered a beautiful iridescent green and blue in the rays cutting through the thick canopy above. They were primitive, but effective and comfortable.

Neil sat back on the log by the fire and thought for a spell. He inferred he had a naming dilemma to resolve: there were three different types of symbiont species he knew of so far. He needed to classify them, rather than call them all a symbiont without distinction.

He considered the cockatrice, then chose to name it, Symbius Calcatrix.

As for timberwolves, he dubbed them, Symbius Canis.

Patches and his ilk, assuming he wasn't the last of his kind, Neil named, Symbius Manticora.

He wasn't fluent in Latin, and could've made a mistake with the names, not that anyone would know. After recording this, he paused to question all this. What is the point of recording this anyway? I'm the only person who will ever appreciate it.

Think of it this way, he countered to himself, What else is there to do for fun?

"Good point." Neil stood from the log. Today's Monday, the start of the second week after Oath Day. It's all cardio day, that means exploration.

Before cardio, he worked on his latest invention, a water clock! There wasn't enough clear sky in camp for a sun dial, and his actual watch was smashed; this machine solved those issues, if it worked.

He drew up the plans for it two days ago. Since he had a ton of black bamboo nearby, there was more than enough piping to manipulate water to do things. The plan was to make a conic water reservoir out of clay, then hoisting it up with rope. A small hole and lots of pine sap could seal around a bamboo straw that will release a certain amount of water every second.

The water from the basin will collect in a pot attached to a machine. When enough water drops in this pot, it will empty back into a reservoir. The motion will activate a system of ropes and pulleys to rotate a numbered clay disk. A stick hovering above the disk will indicate what hour it is. This clock should keep reasonable time even in the dark, if properly calibrated.

The drawback was Neil needed to refill the water basins each day; and, building it required a precision that seemed fanciful with stone age technology. That wasn't going to stop him though. All the complex parts, like the pulleys, were going to be fired clay. The rest was wood, lashings, and sap glue.

Neil gathered the supplies and labored with them until this project's portion of time was spent.

He worked on the bow by helping it dry in his kiln. He carefully placed hot stones inside and around it before sealing it with the lid. The bow stave was from fallen timber that felt dry; still, he had to be certain it was. It should be ready soon. Patience.

Neil reassured himself he still had the atlatl. He took the weapon and from fifteen yards away drove a dart in the bulls eye of the woven thatch target he set up last week. Ten points.

Now he could exercise by investigating more of the forest.

He geared up and strode down a familiar road to the South, the one where he first met Scar. The canopy was thinner here, like the trees overtook this path many years ago. Maybe this was an actual road system once upon a time? He wondered where the path ended.

Artemis lead the way, vigilantly sniffing and watching. Nothing's getting to Neil this time, she swore to herself.

Only two things worried Neil: Scar, and Patches. Patches was easy enough to detect, as massive and loud as he is. A creature that is murder incarnate has no need for stealth. Scar, on the other hand, liked to ambush. He could be watching Neil right now, hidden in the living darkness. How can something with glowing eyes hide in the dark?

Neil theorized that Timberwolves can dim their eyes when they want to hide. He'll have to wait and see if that is true.

The old road wound in the forest like a coiling serpent, some coils moved around a tree or two. The path even went through a huge lichen covered tree with a natural tunnel in it. That tree must be thousands of years old. Abruptly, the path was split in half by a river, a rather large river. It was, perhaps, twenty yards across.

Artemis hopped onto Neil's shoulders and held on as they forded the river. It came up to his neck halfway to the other side, and he had to hold Artemis higher. He'd have to teach her how to swim later. Neil noticed some purple boulders jutting from the running water. They were iridescent oddly enough. He didn't like them. There was something about those rocks that made him nervous.

Neil emerged from the river on the other side and moved on. Moving aside some vines with his spear to expose the path again, Neil saw a patch of blue glowing flowers in his way. He approached them, and Artemis leaned in to sniff the flowers, but he stopped her by setting the spear in her way. She sat down and looked up to him. Neil didn't like the look of that plant.

Neil leaned down to get a closer look and poked one of the plants with an atlatl dart. Was the plant carnivorous, poison? It didn't react like a Venus fly trap to the dart. Interesting. They were very beautiful.

He heard an animal squeal in the distance. It sounded like, of all things, a zebra?

He moved fast to investigate and pushed through the dark thickets to spy a zebra wearing what looked like saddlebags over its back. It was running away from something, something big. Oh no.

Patches rushed after the zebra, snapping small trees and steamrolling anything small enough to flatten.

He's going to catch the zebra. Some part of Neil wanted to walk away. It would be easy. In fact, this animal might have saved Neil from meeting Patches instead. This was the way of the wild, survival of the fittest. If the zebra wasn't fast enough to escape, it gets eaten, and Neil moves on undetected to hunt another day. Period.

....

Fuck that.

Patches was within range. Neil took the dart in his hand, set it on the atlatl, aimed, then let fly. The missile flew as Patches ran into its path. The dart barely stuck on the side of the manticore's eye! Ten points.

He stopped then swatted the projectile off like it was a fly.

Neil's blood went cold. That dart was obsidian tipped. Jesus, what is he made of?

Patches sniffed the shattered dart, then gazed at the thickets to see where this sharp stick came from.

Patches is trying to establish causality, Neil realized. The creatures on this planet are way too smart for his own good. He just watched on with Artemis quietly at his side in the tall brush.

Patches then glared at the zebra further down the forest.

Wait, what? The zebra's just standing there? Why?

Run, for Christ's sake! Neil urged mentally.

The zebra just stood there, unafraid. Is it suicidal now?

Patches resumed its chase to eat the zebra.

Neil burst from the bushes and yelled, "Hey ugly!"

Patches' cold eyes locked onto him immediately, just before it crashed head first into a tree. The manticore shook its dazed head, then ran backwards into another tree, then sideways into a boulder.

Neil watched the killing machine act out like Jerry Lewis. It's like all its motor functions were reversed. Why?

The zebra stared wide eyed at the distant strange creature wearing animal skins like a cloak. She's never seen anything like it.

Neil glanced the zebra's way. He could've sworn it nodded to him. He watched it back away from the howling bumbling beast and melt into the forest. Good. Mission successful.

"Let's go, girl." Neil said to Artemis. Patches was too messed up to follow them. What caused that back there? It couldn't have been the dart, could it? Maybe he hit something more vital than he realized.

He's burned enough daylight. It's time to go back.

The hunter and his wolf found themselves before the patch of glowing flowers again, but on the opposite side. He didn't feel like going around, so Neil just walked through them. Thinking maybe they were just flowers after all and he was cautious over nothing this time.

He made it through the patch, and felt fine. Then, the world began to grow a little, and his hands and body were getting bigger. What the fuck?

He felt his head, and it was smaller. His head was actually shrinking! "Waaaaaaaaaah!" Neil screamed, and his voice shrank with his head until he sounded like Alvin the chipmunk.

Artemis saw his distress and was about to cross the flower patch after him.

"No!" Neil shrieked in his chipmunk voice while holding his hands out to her, "Stay girl! Don't touch the flowers! Go around!"

The wolf froze before going through, then went around safely.

Neil sighed in relief. Thank god the creatures are smart on this planet.

Artemis saw Neil up close and couldn't believe her eyes. Neil's head shrunk! She stepped farther away from the flowers. Neil was right in stopping her earlier. Those plants are dangerous. He saved her again!

"This is fucked." Neil held his big hands out. Well, they weren't bigger; everything just seemed so with his peanut sized head. This is so surreal. Was he high? Did those flowers secrete a substance like L.S.D.?

Artemis smelled that monster from before and turned on a dime to the shadowed treeline and growled. It's coming!

"What is it?" Neil spun, and held his huge spear out, then wished he didn't have the depth perception of a fruit fly.

Suddenly, Patches approached bumbling through the forest toward them, grunting and snarling savagely. He managed to get the hang of his screwed up motor skills that fast!?

"Run!" Neil can't fight like this. He had to retreat with Artemis back to the river.

The run was difficult and he almost hit a tree branch, but tripped instead on a root. Neil scrambled to get up, then felt something woosh over his tiny head.

Patches' paw missed by inches and sliced a tree open instead. Yikes. The beast tripped on itself and fought to regain its footing.

Neil was grateful for his small head. He drove his spear into the thing's soft nose, then ran with Artemis like they were scared rabbits.

Patches roared, enraged that the puny thing hurt him again with a pointy stick! If only his legs worked right, he'd squash it like a bug.

Artemis thought Scar was a monster, but that thing back there is the stuff of nightmares. It could eat her and Neil in one mouthful! Hopefully it couldn't swim in the deep river.

They arrived at the shoreline and Neil realized a terrible problem. The water is too deep in his current state. He'd drown with his small head if he forded it like before. Artemis is too small to swim in the river's current, even if she knew how to.

Patches was getting closer.

Oh god. What now? He looked around the shore for a fallen tree to cross with. Maybe he can use a log like a float and swim across? Then, his tiny eyes spotted the Zebra as it emerged from behind a tree. It followed him.

Artemis growled and stood between it and Neil.

The zebra trotted closer, reached into its bag with its muzzle, and took out a pouch of something. It sprinkled some red dust onto its forehoof then blew it in Neil's face.

He coughed. The dust smelled like ceder and mushrooms. Miraculously, his head popped back to its normal size. Just in time too, as Patches had closed the distance.

Neil snatched Artemis and ran into the river. The zebra followed.

The Manticore howled, took a log with its mouth, and hurled it at them.

The log flew too high and struck one of the purple boulders with an oddly fleshy thud.

Neil's stomach fell into his groin when a massive purple water dragon emerged from the river, grinning a toothy grin, a golden mustache flowing in a nonexistent breeze from its snout.

"Mother of god." Neil swore as he wadded through the water even faster.

Patches ignored the dragon. He raced to the water's edge and leaped at the three annoying snacks trying to escape. There is no escape.

The dragon snatched Patches out of the air and began smacking him with both sides of the other claw. The fight, however, wasn't so easily won.

On the other side of the river, Neil turned to watch Patches fight the water dragon. The manticore bit the dragon's claw and hung on. The serpent roared and swung the beast down, smashing it on the river floor repeatedly until it let go.

Patches eventually did, but damn if that stopped the monster. He stood and continued to fight the dragon, and actually held his own.

Neil made good on his escape while the two titans duked it out.

Now a safe distance away, Neil turned to consider the zebra still following him. Its mane was styled into a mohawk, and wore a tribal style of jewelry: a pair of gold ear rings, and more gold rings around its neck and front left leg. It was also smaller than he expected, standing to about chest height. It stared back with the same look of sentience that Luna had in his dream. Could it be true, is this really a native of this world, a self aware horse?

It spoke to him, or tried to with its zebra noises.

"I don't speak zebra." Neil shook his head. "I can't believe I'm talking to an animal." He stared down to Artemis. She tilted her head at him. "You don't count."

The zebra looked confused. She couldn't understand his strange language.

"Thanks for the help. We're even now." Neil left the zebra standing there. It made no attempt to stop him.

Neil felt naked without his spear. But, the return trip home was uneventful, thankfully. He sat by the fireplace and fed it. This really was a cardio day. He ran his hands over his scarred face. Jesus Christ.

Those flowers though, what the hell did they do to him? They must have some poison that causes debilitating hallucinations. Then, he found a connection. He poked one of those flowers with the dart he shot Patches with! Then, he started to flop and stumble around. It messed up that monster like it messed him up.

Flowers containing a powerful hallucinogen could be an equally powerful weapon. Neil wondered: could he build a tolerance to it?

What would he call the plants? Well, the substance they secrete mess with your sense of reality, like it's playing a joke on you. A trickster, huh? A name came to him: Loki Flower, named after the Norse god of mischief and dark deeds. It's perfect.

Neil made a mental note to experiment with the Loki flowers later after Patches had moved on. Actually, Neil hoped that dragon took care of him. It would be one less headache to deal with.

Neil built the wall and roof framing for the hut while Artemis took a long drink in the shallows of the brook's pool. An idea crossed his mind while lashing the last poles together for the wall frame. The still pool at its deepest came to Neil's hips. This is a good time to teach Artemis how to swim.

Neil approached her and placed his hands on his sides. She stood there, eyes closed, relaxing into the moment. He left her to drink a while longer and gathered firewood. After, he took his shirt off and walked into the water to her and she looked up at him.

Artemis closed her eyes slowly, then reopened them.

Huh, was that some kind of greeting? Neil did the same, closing and slowly opening his eyes.

Artemis smiled and wagged her tail under the water.

She's getting better at smiling. Neil scratched her head and picked her up. The roots on her paws retracted and she hugged him closer when he walked out to the deep end. She started panting and her claws gripped his skin. "It's alright. I've got you."

He slowly dipped her into the water and she tensed up. Neil held the young wolf waist deep in the smooth current. She looked around then eased seeing that she wasn't sinking. "Okay, girl. It's time you learned how to swim."

What does swim mean? She wondered why Neil held her over the deep end. His grip laxed and she panicked a little. She's going to sink; the water will swallow her up!

Neil let go, and Artemis sank under the water. He stayed close and counted to ten.

Artemis furiously kicked and clawed under the water, trying her hardest to get to shore. However, nothing bad was happening to her. She calmed down and looked around. Her fears faded away. It was like another world down here. She saw the fish and other creatures strange to her moving around, and wished she could move like that. Maybe that's what swim means? Does Neil want her to move in the water like a fish? That sounded fun. She tried to imitate the trout swimming around and soon her head rose above the water's surface.

Neil gawked at Artemis struggling to swim around him in circles. Holy cow! She learned that in less than ten seconds!

She's doing it! She's moving like a fish. Water is the best thing ever! She dived and tried to chase a trout. It was too fast for her. Maybe one day she could catch one for Neil. Fish make him happy.

It seemed to Neil he was no longer needed here. Watching Artemis submerge herself for minutes on end had Neil wonder if timberwolves have a respiratory system similar to a plant and do not suffocate like mammals. Maybe she absorbs carbon dioxide as well? Does she also need photo synthesis to complete the process?

Some areas of the forest live in perpetual nighttime under its thick canopies. Overall, ground level is starved of significant sunlight; yet, Plants seem to flourish here anyway. Interesting. Perhaps the fauna evolved to thrive on what little there is.

Neil inspected the bow staff in the warm kiln while Artemis played in the pool. That stave was fully shaped and would be dry by next week. He could hardly wait.

The boy finished his chores for the day and ate some polymelons by the brook. He'd spit seeds at a few rocks jutting from the surface to see if he could hit them. The farthest stone proved a challenge. After a few failed tries, Neil spat the last seed and it looked like this would hit!

Artemis burst from under the water and swatted the seed before it struck the target. She climbed onto the rock, and sported a rather smug aura.

"I'll be damned." Neil just blinked, then laughed. "You rascal!"

The water logged wolf swam to shore and laid by the campfire to dry off and rest.

Neil made a fresh pair of obsidian spears and flint arrows. Then, it occurred to him he ran out of feathers for fletching with the last batch of atlatl darts. He looked up after a crow cawed from above.

The hunter spied the dark bird sitting on a branch, eating something it caught. Neil drew a blunt dart and took aim with the atlatl. This will be tricky. He waited until the shot felt right. He let it fly and it struck the bird, knocking it dead off the branch, ten points worth of feathers, and dinner.

Neil made roasted crow with a huckleberry reduction. It was pretty good. Neil finished his meal, and imagined a fresh pot of coffee on the fire. Aahhh, man. He could really use some right now.

A tinge of melancholy settled and he watched the firelight dance on Artemis as she rested by it. All the chores were finished, leaving a quarter of the day to burn. What would he do with the remaining hours?

Save for the sounds of nature, this is what peacefulness will be like for the rest of his life, an otherwise sterile silence? It reminded him like a nagging demon how essentially futile life here is for him. Neil felt his spirit sinking in his seat. He has to find something to do and stay busy; he'll drive himself crazy if he doesn't. He took a breath. Remember your oath.

Just then, Artemis stirred from her nap. Her eyes settled on something behind Neil.

He felt gentle pats of breath on his neck. Neil neglected to remain alert, trading it for melancholy.

Neglect kills.

Neil drew his knife and jumped to his feet while spinning around, holding the flint blade out to whatever it was.

The hunter beheld the zebra, and relaxed. It found his camp? He wasn't sure if he could trust it and held his ground, legs poised to react on command.

Artemis took to Neil's side and readied herself. It was the creature Neil helped. Why is she invading their territory?

The zebra reached into one of the saddlebag pouches. It withdrew and held a glass bottle in her teeth; an iridescent vapor swirled inside.

Curiosity turned to panic when Neil watched her fling the bottle up and it fell at his feet and shattered.

Artemis barked and growled. She threw something at Neil!

Gas attack?! The vapor smelled of herbs and something else he couldn't name. Neil backed away, coughing and waving off the gas, still pointing the knife with the other hand.

That does it. Artemis sprang into action and chased the zebra, intent on running her down.

The short zebra brayed and ran away from the much smaller wolf. To Neil's shock, the whinnies became more... coherent with every second. If he didn't know any better, he was starting to make out words from the galloping beast. Then, like his ears were unplugged, he heard it speak English.

"There is no cause for alarm! Calm your Timberwolf! I mean neither of you harm!"

Neil's breathing elevated and his palms started to sweat. Did it just speak?

The feminine zebra jumped onto a low lying branch and held on.

Artemis jumped up and snapped at the invader, but she was too high up. Come back down here and fight! Artemis decided to scale the tree after the coward.

The Zebra laughed. "Something so small, to have the determination of a wildebeest, to be bitten by it I do not wish in the least!" From her distant perch, she stared into Neil's unblinking eyes. "Will you, savior of mine, only now stand by and watch me die?"

The wolf stepped on the branch then heard Neil whistle. She froze.

"Come here, girl."

But, the intruder-

"Artemis, here, now!"

She sighed and obeyed, while frowning darkly at the zebra. Anymore funny business will be your last, stripy thing.

The Zebra descended the tree and approached, smiling warmly. "Thank you, great creature. I cannot lie, before I thought that manticore would catch me and I would die. But, you came by, and I saw you shoot its foul eye!"

"You're welcome." Neil breathed. Was the vapor filled with a psychedelic like the Loki flowers secrete? Or, was something else to blame for the reason why he can suddenly speak zebra?

"I can never repay you for saving my life; I can offer you something at least, but know it is not merely a knife!" She presented it from her saddle bag.

It was ornate and curved a lot like a Persian knife. He took the weapon and the first thing that really caught his attention was its impressive heft.

The zebra pointed at it. "This was in my family for generations; now, you can pass it down your generations." She giggled. "Besides, I've used it to mince herbs since I was a child. If my ancestors knew, I would be reviled."

An heirloom knife? Neil unsheathed the blade and his heart skipped when it gleamed. It's steel! It was so wonderful to see steel again. "I can't tell you how valuable this gift is."

"Indeed; it is truly a work of art. I hope it shows my gratitude, at least in part."

"You have succeeded." He held his hand out. "I am Neil."

The Zebra recognized the gesture, just like Luna did. She shook his hand with a fore hoof. "I am Zecora."

Zecora rhymes like a Leprechaun. How strange is that? At least she doesn't speak in riddles. "Just so you know, you also saved me from the same beast after I was poisoned by the Loki flower. Thus, I figure we are even."

"Loki flower?" Zecora tilted her head. "You mean the poison joke? Yes, beware the flowers with leaves of blue, they are really not a joke!"

"I named them Loki flowers, after a dark mischievous god from my planet."

"Then, we both have proper names for a plant that plays sinister games." She held a hoof to herself. "And, I do not keep score. To help you was simply called for."

Neil considered the knife once more, then asked, "Then, is this the only reason you followed me?"

"No. I also came out of curiosity, not just to reward your generosity."

Neil motioned to the campfire. "There's a spot for you by the fire."

"Taking it would be my honor and desire."

The hunter sat across from the rhyming zebra. Flickering light from the lapping flames illuminated her sharp features and reflected off the rows of gold rings stacked up her neck. There was an alien yet oddly nostalgic beauty to this creature, Neil felt.

Zecora's teal eyes took in the tall being's striking and foreign appearance. The fire in his aura betrayed this being as masculine. The tinge of the wild behind his eyes suggested the forest got to him more than once and his mettle was adapting to suit. The scars streaking his face and what appeared liken to fleshy griffin talons told her this was the case. His ability to tame the untameable timberwolf proved this creature was truly formidable. "What manner of being are you?"

"Human." Neil took a log off the nearby pile and added it to the fire. She doesn't rhyme with every sentence. Perhaps, she only rhymes when the idea needs two clauses? "What are you?"

"I am a pony."

The hairs on Neil's neck rose. That word, Luna also called herself a pony. So, that's it then. She was real; and, this is another example of sapience here. He stayed silent and observed his alien guest.

Zecora looked around. This place was the human's home. It smelled of cooked flesh, and the animal hides drying on racks and comprising his garments told her he was a predator. But, the rectangular pot filled with reduced berries, the stores of grain, roots, and melons said there was more to the tale. An omnivore, perhaps, like a Minotaur? He certainly stands upright like one. Still, she asked, "I smell this place is stained by deeds both frightening and gory; do I need to worry?"

Neil locked eyes with her. "No. I hunt because I must. I never had a taste for hunting or the hunter's trade."

"Ah, forced to compete against those who are the fittest? You are a survivalist."

He nodded. "You could say that."

"I understand. Changing to survive is a daunting task life at times must demand."

Someone that's lived here for years would know. "Do you live in this forest, Zecora?"

"Yes. In my youth, my travels took me from far to near and finally to where I made my home here."

Neil felt like Zecora didn't just speak in rhymes, but in poetic prose. It was like if he met the animalistic manifestation of Goethe. Talking with her proved soothing and he felt the madness encroaching before slipping away. "Well, I wouldn't mind if you visited again, since we're neighbors."

She smiled and jumped to her hooves. "Yes! I never had a neighbor before. A celebration is called for!" She turned to leave. "I shall return to my hut; there is much I must prepare and many herbs to cut. Visit me in a weeks time, then I should have steeped all the herb wine!"

Wine? Best. Neighbor. Ever. "Oh? Alright. I'll find you."

"Seek me where I was nearly slain; there the path to my home lies obvious and plain."

"See you in a week." Neil waved her bye.

She waved back and left with a bounce in her trot.

What is sanity anymore? Neil laughed and scratched Artemis behind the ear. She curled up into his lap and purred. Once the sun set, they went to sleep in the lean-to.

Part Eight

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Week Three: A Cure for Sorrow

Cloaked in moss with mud covering his face, Neil listened to the hoof steps drawing nearer beyond the misty brush. Each crunch of dead leaves and snap of fallen twig growing louder confirmed the deer was within range; yet, still it moved out of sight. It just needed to clear the nettle bushes. Patience. Ah, there it is. The game finally walked out to nibble a patch of grass.

Twenty yards away, perched high above in a tree, Neil pulled the string, set his middle finger in the right corner of his mouth, and took aim. He breathed, then released. The bow fired with a thwang, and the obsidian tipped arrow pierced the game's heart. It jumped and stumbled to run, but the drop in blood pressure sent it to the ground. It was over.

Neil hadn't used a bow since he was a kid; thankfully, it didn't take long to overcome his rustiness and draw first blood with the new bow. It did the job beautifully. Neil measured the weapon's draw strength at fifty pounds when he first strung it, plenty for his needs. Hopefully, it will hold that weight with continued use. If Neil followed every detail in Manly's book as well as he believed he did, it should. Only time will tell. For now, the hunter will enjoy this tool.

Artemis guarded Neil's back while he prepared the deer for transport back home. All is clear, for now.

Zecora's gift was a god send. The steel knife streamlined the gutting and dressing process. It made cleaner cuts than any stone knife could; but, most importantly, Neil didn't have to make a new blade if it dulled. The hunter would never look at steel the same way again. He truly understood now why ancient men revered this godly material.

Neil put the game basket on his back and tied the cords over his chest. This recent invention was a bamboo backpack built solely to carry game deer sized and under. Dragging kills home wasn't needed anymore. Hefting the dressed game, the hunter walked on with spear in hand. Home was thirty minutes due East. The hunting spot he picked was a portion of the forest with lighter tree density, making it better lit, but not by much, honestly.

After taking point and passing a huge tree, Artemis smelled something as the breeze shifted. It was hiding in the branches above! She looked up and growled to warn Neil.

Neil drew his bow just as he saw Scar bounding down the tree to land on top of him. Neil was encumbered by the deer and surrounded by thick brush and tall trees. He was cornered. It was a perfect ambush. Clever girl. Time seemed to slow down. By instinct, the hunter aimed with his eye and shot in Scar's flight path after he leaped off the lowest branch to come at Neil like a bullet.

Instead, Scar found the arrow. It pierced the hip section and pinned the wolf to the tree's mighty trunk. Scar hung there like a Christmas ornament, howling, snarling, and biting at the strong sap stained arrow shaft. Its angle of entry made it difficult to chew through.

Neil put the bow back over his shoulder. If he had only the atlatl instead, Scar would've succeeded. One week too late, symbiont.

Artemis snorted at her defeated enemy. Justice is sometimes an arrow to the hip.

They coldly watched Scar struggle for a moment, then resumed their journey home in peace. Maybe, Scar will now forget her stupid vendetta for Neil and leave him alone. One can hope.

Safely back at camp, Neil processed the deer and set the skin to tan, then placed most of the meat on his smoker. That should be finished at sundown. After dinner, he'll dry the remaining meat slowly in his cold smoke tipi. Smoked wild herb jerky should keep for a while.

The hut was almost finished as well. The door was ready, and walls were fleshed out with intertwined saplings and plastered mud to seal everything. The fireplace was also finished, with the roof standing strong and ready for the clay tiles; all that remained was firing the last set. Then, the hunter will finally have a real roof over his head. Staying in the lean-to was getting old, and he could use it instead for extra firewood storage.

As expected, the water clock was proving to be a pain in the ass: the pulleys weren't easy to make, and the rope needed to be as high quality as he could make it. Making each part was time consuming work; but, it was coming along.

Neil finished firing both the last of the pulleys and the roof tiles for the hut. He moved on to install the tiles and finish the structure of his new house. As Artemis swam and played in the brook, the last tile fit snugly in place on the roof and the door he pegged into the door well. It worked. Then, just like that, the job on the building was finally finished. Now, he needed furniture. A simple moss cot will do for now. He would test the fireplace later tonight.

But, there was no more time for chores. Neil had a celebration to attend with his new neighbor, a native of this strange hostile planet, the talking zebra. Washing himself in the cold brook, he prepared for the soiree by cleaning and polishing all his gear and garb.

All his clothes from Earth were torn and otherwise destroyed. The last of his intact articles from Earth was his old diesel shoes. They would've been called casual back home; but, here they were the fanciest footwear he had. It's funny how the value of things can depend on the situation at hand. Neil wondered if value itself was entirely situational. Huh, now that's a question.

Neil took to the southern path in his clean hide garb, gear, and fancy footwear. The wilds, party or not, were only as safe as you were deadly. Where ever the hunter went, so did his tools. He even brought a newer toy he finished last night to show Zecora.

The duo walked cautiously and swiftly.

Artemis and Neil arrived at the rushing river. Neil named this water way Serpent's Run, after the water dragon that lived these waters. The two returned six days ago to Serpent's Run to gather Loki flowers. They hadn't seen the dragon since the first time. They looked for the purple dragon now. It was absent today as well. Good.

Artemis had grown up to Neil's calf and was a lot heavier than last week. So, she would ford the river alone today.

Neil watched her wade out into the fast current, and swim against it at an angle. She made it to the other side without much trouble! Impressed, he whistled.

Artemis sat on the sandy shore, then barked for Neil to come on and cross.

He crossed the water then scratched her head. She loved that. "Look at you, crossing all by yourself. Who told you to grow up so fast, girl?"

She looked up at him, blinking slowly and panting in sweet satisfaction.

Neil blinked back, then they continued to Zecora's. In theory, her hut shouldn't be too far off. He looked to the familiar Loki flower patch as they passed it, then looked to his hands. A rather revolting image came to mind from an unusual experience this week. He shivered.

After Neil returned here and harvested some Loki flowers six days ago, he figured out that with a wet cloth over his face he was able pick the flowers without being intoxicated. He discovered the flowers were coated with a fine bio luminescent dust. Neil figured that's the toxin the plant defends itself with. The dust went air born with the slightest contact; and, the area of effect was proportional to how much they were disturbed.

He came up with a method of processing the Loki flower into an extract by making a tea with one whole flower.

Neil micro dosed with two drops from a sharpened stick. All this was to inoculate himself from the plant's effects. The first four days were hell: the poison turned the bones in his arms into tendons, making them completely flexible and stretchy. They were actually like tentacle arms! He couldn't find the words to describe how disturbing it was that he could scratch his butt by going over and behind the shoulder. Disgusting.

However, his arms went back to normal after five days; two drops from the extract had bearable results. He would measure his tolerance by how many drops it took to have an effect. The starting point stands at two. He wondered if Mithridates had it easier?

He took a small break from inoculation for today's sake. Neil would start again tomorrow.

They continued on deeper into the lower forest where Patches chased Zecora. Neil searched for the path she mentioned. Then, he saw a parting in the brush. There it is. This was a completely unexplored part of the woods. They had to move cautiously.

At the end of the dark path, Neil spied what had to be the place. But, it was more like a tree house than a hut. Bottles with glowing substances hung by cords tied all around the tree and its branches. He wondered what purpose those served?

He knocked on the small door, and Zecora opened it and smiled. "Oh, Neil, and the timberwolf, just in time! I've opened the herb wine!"

"Sounds divine."

She giggled. "A fine rhyme!"

Neil thought it was pretty funny how cramped the doorway was, yet inside he could stand comfortably. Curious. The smell of herbs with a hint of ceder filled his nose as he took in the decor. Zecora's hut was decorated like if a tribal medicine man had an interest in the apothecary trade and decided to live inside a tree.

There were bottles of herbs and powders, and shelves of more of that kind. Pots, both hanging and sitting, held strange plants of all kinds he couldn't identify, except one, a lone tiny Loki flower sitting in a small window. There were also more shelves of jars filled with liquids containing all manner of things odd and freaky, animal, mineral, and vegetable. Hell, Neil wouldn't be surprised if she had eye of newt.

Among the stations of tools to turn those ingredients into medicines, there was a large cast iron cauldron in the center of the home, filled with some bubbling glowing green goo. Neil hoped that wasn't dinner.

Zecora filled two clay cups with the herbaceous wine, then offered him one. "I've made plenty; so we can drink to our brink! Now, take a sip and let me know what you think." She waited anxiously of his opinion.

He smelled the deep purple liquid. It had a wine like sourness with a real herbal punch, almost like a spicy sangria. Well, bottoms up. He sipped it, and the flavor blew him away. It was the best wine he'd ever tasted. Nothing his parents let him have at home came even close. It was sweet, yet tart, and filled his soul with a soothing warmth, like each taste wrapped him in a ghostly hug that melted all his worries away.

What is this sorcery? He spoke bluntly, "This is nectar from the gods."

"Yes. It warms down to the marrow. This wine is called, A Cure for Sorrow. It is an old recipe from my home county." She sipped her cup and sighed in bliss.

"So far, all the best things are from there."

"Ah, but do I agree, should I dare? It has been so long since I've lived there." She took a seat at her table and gestured for him to sit across from her.

Neil did so as Artemis lied down next to him.

"I remember my homeland as a filly." She recounted, "It was beautiful, its ponies wonderful, and we lived the plains freely." Zecora swirled her Cure for Sorrow in the clay cup and stared down into it as if to find some secret inside. "Yet, do I wish to see it now? I don't know. In fact, I don't think so."

Neil finished sipping his cup, then furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Long have I lived as a nomad, for there is nothing left for me in my homeland."

"Were you pushed away, or something?"

She shook her head. "Nothing of the sort. My life there was well lived, but one I had to thwart. This life I chose, and my return would bring no repose." She took a swig of the medicinal wine.

Neil thought about it for a moment, then he saw her meaning. "Oh, your culture must be very family centric. You leaving would be considered a betrayal. No wonder you believe this, then."

Her eyes lit up and went wide with surprise. "Yes! You understand! Your gift of penetration is truly grand!"

Still, she didn't answer why she felt the need to thwart living with her family and people. Neil felt it best to leave that untouched for now.

Artemis saw how well Neil took to Zecora, and decided she would try to like her too. The wolf looked to the zebra, then blinked to her like she did for Neil.

Zecora returned the gesture with her eyes.

Artemis' tail wagged. Hey, the zebra understands! She's not so bad after all! The pony earned some of her respect, and she moved to sit down next to Zecora.

Neil still didn't understand fully what that gesture meant; but, Artemis warming up to Zecora was good news. "Uh oh, Zecora, you're in trouble now."

Zecora agreed, and pet the wolf gingerly. Artemis liked it. "Surely, I would never have believed a timberwolf in my home could be well received." She looked to Neil. "Too bad your skill at taming couldn't be applied to a chimera rampaging." She giggled, "Besides a distraction by maiming."

"I think Patches barely felt that dart to the eye."

"This Patches, as you named him, wouldn't have from a missile that small, even to the eye." She sipped her cup. "Chimera's of that size are hard to hurt and rarely die."

"Wait." He held up his hand. "Did you just call Patches a chimera?"

"Don't you?"

Neil face palmed, realizing he misplaced a detail regarding his mythology and completely forgot about that genus of monster. "I've been calling them symbionts; because, like timberwolves, they are in a symbiosis with other lifeforms. But, their particular case is already called a chimera. So, my genus is incorrectly applied."

Zecora looked to Artemis. "True, yet, there exists no name for timberwolves. Such knowledge has slipped through even the wisest hooves."

"Why is that?"

"Their bite is very poisonous, their tactics cunning, and their vengeance bloody. They are far too dangerous to study."

Neil knew about the cunning and bloody part, but the first caught his interest. "Poisonous?"

She nodded. "Fatally so." Zecora tilted her head in wonder. "But, I sense not to you though?"

He shook his head. "The opposite. In fact, I'd be dead if it wasn't for Artemis. Her saliva cured my mort moss infection."

Zecora's ears shot up. "Arcanotoxin? How can that be? Only a concoction of sage's beard can cure it with guarantee."

Neil shrugged. "Sorry, I'm living proof that isn't the whole truth." Neil was amused by his own words. The rhymes were getting contagious.

Awestruck, Zecora took in the human under a new light. "Amazing. Such immunity must serve you well here, with impunity!"

Neil added, "It must be terrifying for your kind. Timberwolves are dangerous enough, even for me. I can only imagine how hard they are to deal with if only one bite can kill you."

"True." She sighed. "Fortunately, you rarely cross one when avoiding the Zap apple tree, even in the Everfree."

"Zap apple tree?"

Seeing his confusion, Zecora rose and walked across the hut, then took a pot with a small dead looking tree and brought it to the table. She showed it to him. "Have you not seen these?"

It bared a striking resemblance to the large dead tree in his camp, but bonsai sized. Interesting. Why would the symbionts have a relationship with something so innocuous?

Zecora explained, "It is a tree whose fruit are sweeter than syrup from the maple. Jam from its zap apples are a highly prized staple."

"I've never seen one fruit anything. They look dead."

"They do, until zap apple season comes, then everypony runs!" Zecora holds her hooves out like she was holding something. "Baskets in hoof, eyes turned up, they scramble to gather all the apples before their time is up. Then, the fruit vanish."

"They vanish?" Neil exclaimed his skepticism by opening his hands like they were exploding. "Just like puuh, vanish?"

"More like a pop." She hit her cheek with a hoof while her mouth was open, making a sound like a loudly dripping faucet. "Absurd, is it not?"

Neil rolled his eyes and drank more wine. "Frankly, everything about this planet is absurd."

A pot whistled on a fired brick stove in the kitchen just across the room. Zecora checked on it, then turned to him with a tilted head. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

She placed the clay ware pot on the table and poured some stew into a bowl. It smelled earthy and rich like a creamy mushroom stew. He took the offered bowl and sampled it. Indeed, it was a cream of mushroom. This was a delicious comfort food. Finally, a real meal.

Zecora smiled, seeing how much he enjoyed the dish. "So, you're not liking your time here, my friend? Does my homeworld offend?"

"No offense," he pointed to the door in disgust, "it's a nightmare out there."

She nodded. "Life in the Everfree can be cruel; strength, cunning, and savagery are often the rule."

"Well, I guess I made it too obvious I'm not from here." Neil added sarcastically, "I should work on that."

Zecora shrugged. "True, but the moment we spoke I knew."

Neil sighed, reflecting on the impossibility of blending in with the society of this planet. He thought a Gray in a pink wig would have a better chance in Roswell, or maybe Los Angeles, yeah, definitely Los Angeles.

With her words still hanging in the air, Zecora watched Neil think for a spell, then asked, "Although, one mystery eludes me: how came you here, and from what frontier?"

Neil recalled to her his tale of how he went from a mere teenage earthling to what he is now.

Zecora took in his story like a fine wine. "So, you're a hunter from the sky?"

"I suppose I am."

This human was turning out to be the most interesting thing Zecora had ever known. "This Trisha, is she a female?"

"Yes."

"Ah, is she your mate?"

Neil coughed on some stew. "Ugh, no, just good friends since we were kids. Nothing more."

Zecora saw in his aura he was fighting something about that statement. "Neil, may I speak honestly?"

He nodded. "I appreciate honesty."

"Truly? Then listen well, for no lie will I tell." She leaned closer. "For a boy and girl to remain simply best friends is difficult to maintain long. The natural pull of love between compatible mates is doomed to become unceasing and strong."

Neil paused for a moment, studying Zecora's unyielding gaze closely, then he finally answered. "A relationship between a man and a woman can be platonic." He frowned. "So, I have no idea what you mean."

She smiled warmly. "I think you do, and your heart does too."

The boy wanted to tell her to mind her own beeswax; but, she was right, as infuriating as that was. Who was he kidding?

She saw him come to terms with what he was repressing. "Why have you denied yourself this gift? Surely, it proves self destructive. Why not desist?"

"I haven't told her because I don't want to ruin our friendship should she not feel the same way. I don't want the way she sees me to change. Trisha is all I've got, besides my folks." Neil felt so strange telling this to an alien he met only briefly once before; but, he felt like he could tell Zecora anything. Besides, she's been sharing deep intimate things with him. Why not join in?

Zecora pondered what he said. Then squeezed her hooves together hard enough they shook between the empty clay wine cup. It creaked under the stress.

Neil was about to ask why she was breaking the cup, then it shattered.

"This is how you view friendship, Neil. This fact I must reveal." She gestured to the broken remains of a once perfectly usable cup on the floor. "You believe it is to hold tight, and squeeze for every fear your friend might leave despite." She leaned back into her seat. "But, this is not right. A true friendship is deeper than the night, stronger than steel, tighter than tight." She pointed at him. "If this Trisha left you over such a natural thing, believing your feelings a slight, let her go, leave without a fight, for that friendship was a lie! It is better to be alone than suffer in love doomed to die."

"I disagree." Neil clicked his tongue. "I've suffered the last three and a half weeks in this hell you call a forest, scared, hurt, and alone. I do not think being alone is better than even a lie doomed to die."

Zecora listened with warm consideration, then calmly replied, "If lies are your sole stock an store, than I shall say no more."

Neil sat dumbfounded by this zebra's wisdom. He couldn't counter argue without sacrificing reason for fear. She was right. Maybe he should tell Trisha how much she meant to him? "I'll think about it."

Zecora took a third cup from the table, and poured herself more Cure for Sorrow; then refilled his cup. "You must do what you believe is right, Neil. The path is all I can reveal."

Yeah, right. "Actually, it doesn't matter. I'm stuck here anyway."

Zecora tilted her head. "Displaced, yes. Stuck, no. Your journey has a while yet to go."

Neil shrugged his features. "What does that mean?"

"Hunter from the Sky, you will find your way home, as assured as laughter is to Pinkie Pie."

Welp, so much for the lack of riddles.

A silence fell between the two. Neil played with a mushroom bit in the almost empty bowl. "What do you call this land?"

"Equestria."

"And, this forest?"

"The Everfree."

He laughed. "That name is deceitfully nice."

Zecora added, "And, those who fail to realize pay a heavy price."

"Amen." Neil saw Artemis's ears point up, then she left the hut through the front door by unlatching it with her paw. Wow. When did she learn to do that? He pointed at all the ingredients around them. "Speaking of price, you must have a thriving business with all this medicine."

Zecora tilted her head in slight agreement. "To a degree. In reality, my trade is more attributed to spirituality."

"You're a priest, then?"

She waved a hoof in a so so manner. "More or less. That was a good guess. In truth, I am an alchemist."

Neil's eyes went wide. "Well, no wonder you live in the middle of no man's land! So, where's all your gold?"

She gasped. "You know of the grand secret?"

"Uh." He eyed side to side. "Yeah. You turn lead into gold, right?"

She narrowed her eyes and studied his aura very closely. It didn't make sense. "Human, you possess knowledge beyond your own attainment. Have you been instructed in the mysteries before your displacement?"

"Instructed? No. No one teaches alchemy on Earth." Neil frowned sheepishly. "No offense; but, where I come from alchemy is nonsense."

Zecora paused for a moment to reconcile this news. "Neil, you believe I turn literal lead into literal gold?"

"Well, sure you do. What else could Alchemy be? That's why kings banned its practice on my planet in the old times. They didn't want people having gold factories should it be real."

"Forgive me if I express my dismay at what you say. That belief, my friend, is truly old." She scooched her seat closer to him. "When you saved me from the manticore, that was a demonstration of gold. Should you have left me to my demise, then lead would have been your prize."

"You mean the metals in Alchemy are...."

"Symbolic."

"Symbolic for what?"

"That, my friend, is the mystery of the mystery."

Neil bit her claim. "Okay, so, what would you even do with this gold if its not actually gold?"

Zecora gestured to her array of potion stuff. "For instance, the potions that I brew helped me make contact with you."

Neil's amused smirk melted away as a nagging question in the back of his mind resurfaced. He still didn't know how he was suddenly able to talk to Zecora. Surely that gas would've worn off by now. And yet, it hasn't. Why? He beguiled fancy unto fancy until a wild explanation emerged. "What, the gold gives you powers or something, like magic?"

She smiled deeply. "Yes. Everything around us is magic, failure to know this would be tragic."

Neil nervously laughed. "Okay. That's a little too weird for me." He found the idea of magical aliens less palatable than telepathic ones. He gets science fiction, but fantasy? He's read enough Tolkien to know what living in a magical world can get you. No thank you. Yet, his denial did nothing to remove the pit forming in his stomach.

Zecora sighed in bitter sweet realization. "Ah. You're not ready yet. I understand. Know that I will be here and answer your questions should you ever need or demand." She thought for a spell, then rose and walked to the cauldron. Over it, Zecora poured a few liquids and sprinkled some powders. The contents of the cauldron exploded with a poof, sending up a green mushroom cloud. Zecora scooped the cloud with a glass bottle and closed the lid. Inside swirled a green vapor.

Neil watched her closely. What was she planning to do with that?

"Neil, I have one more gift for you; actually, it's a gift for two."

"What is it?"

"It is another Elixir of Comprehension. I gave you one just before our first conversation."

Neil nodded for her to go ahead.

Zecora uncorked the bottle and the cloud wafted over Neil.

It smelled like pine and earth, and he coughed. "So, how long until-"

"Daaaad!" called from outside the hut.

Neil turned to the voice and watched awestruck as Artemis opened the door to come back inside. She was excited over something.

"Dad! There's a squirrel outside! Ooooh, I hate those things! Get your bow, quick!" She stood by the bow leaning on the wall near him and said, "Squirrels are only good for hats!" She saw him sitting there, staring at her with a scary look on his face, like he saw a monster or something. She looked behind to see it, but saw nothing.

It can't be. Is that really Artemis talking? Neil looked to Zecora.

The mystic smiled deeply, and nodded, answering the impossible question burning in his mind.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

He turned back to the young timberwolf. Artemis thinks he's her dad? "Yeah. I'm fine. You can understand me?"

She tilted her head. "Of course I can, like always." Then, she realized something. "Wait, can you hear me, like what I'm saying back?"

"Yes. I can."

"Oh, this is so great!" She jumped up with joy. "I thought our communication was great before, but now you can hear me back!" She looked to Zecora. "Did you do this?"

"Yes."

"Thank you!" Artemis went to rub on Zecora's legs like a cat. "You're awesome. I like you. Hey, wanna be in our pack?" She looked back to Neil. "Dad, can she join our pack?"

"I would be honored, little one, if your father says it can be done." Zecora glanced to Neil.

He shrugged and shook his head. "Uh, okay."

Artemis howled a little howl. "We're a pack of three now!"

Neil rose and gathered his gear. "We should be going, Artemis." There was much to think about, and the day was growing late.

"Okay!" She moved to sit by the door and wait.

Zecora held the door for them.

"Thank you for everything, Zecora." Neil shook her hoof.

"Don't be a stranger, neighbor."

"Wouldn't think of it."

Artemis waved from outside. "Bye Zecora!" Just as Zecora returned the gesture, while Neil stood by Artemis, she smelled something terribly familiar on the shifting breeze that sent her instincts on high alert. "Dad! The monster, ambush!"

Neil's blood ran cold.

Zecora's eyes widened.

The tall undergrowth roared and exploded. Patches was waiting, hidden all this time in the shadows until the wind betrayed him. He would get those insects this time and make them pay for their insolence.

"Run!" Neil knew they had to get some distance before they could defend themselves. Patches was a steam rolling murder machine. If he closed in to make good on the ambush, he would rend everyone like a blender. Distance was all that mattered now.

The two ran into the forest, leaving behind Zecora as she shouted their names. Neil looked back to see if she was in danger. She wasn't, but he was. He shouted for her to stay.

Patches ignored the stripy one, and instead pursued the two legs and the annoying wolf that followed him.

Neil and Artemis ran into the dark mists of the Everfree forest, deeper and farther than they ever dared to go. For however horrible the secrets lying in its depths might be, an even worse nightmare was in hot pursuit just behind, a terror they knew would hunt them until the bitter end.

Distance is all that matters.

Faster and harder Neil pushed his burning limbs through the encumbering strain of retreating for what felt like hours. Artemis panted, still following close.

They heard Patches a short distance behind, flattening foliage and snapping small trees aside, grunting and snarling all the while. It seemed more and more like what hunted them wasn't a beast, but an inexhaustible thirsting demon.

That demon was gaining on them. Even after all this time, Patches still kept coming! If Neil stopped to breathe, Patches would catch up in minutes, then it would be over. He had to lose this freak and fast. The hunter from the sky didn't know how much longer his body could stand this stress. It felt like his lungs were on fire. He was dizzy, lightheaded, making it hard to focus.

The night drew close. As the canopy above dimmed to total darkness, only the natural glow of the Everfree's alien fauna tenuously illuminated the suffocating gloom in pockets. Now it was hard to see as well.

But, Neil knew Patches could see.

Scared, Artemis said, her voice cracking, "Dad, he's gonna catch us!"

Oh god.

Neil has to lose this freak! It's now or never!

They entered a clear parting in the thicker tree growth. Neil struggled to see anything of value.

Artemis can see in the dark and she pointed ahead. "It looks like a straight shot over to a ravine."

"We go there!"

They sprinted to the hiding spot, but in their path a growling beast blocked them.

Neil recognized that growl.

Artemis knew that smell.

Scar drew close enough even Neil could see him in the dim glow.

Neil sneers at him. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Dad," Artemis warned while hunching down into a defensive stance, "I smell more of them! Scar's not alone."

Neil grits his teeth, annoyed, and afraid. Patches is going to catch them. "Scar, I don't have time for your bullshit right now!"

Then, a war party of twelve other timberwolves emerged. Neil and Artemis were surrounded with no way to get passed.

"So, it's come to this, huh?" Neil gripped his spear with white knuckles then pointed it at Scar. "You couldn't beat me alone. So, you've brought some friends? Cute." He pointed behind with a thumb. "Well, I hope you brought enough groupies for our third guest." Neil smiled a menacing grin. Maybe, this was just the thing he needed.

Patches caught up, announcing his arrival by snapping a young pine tree with a swing of his paw. The beast's blood chilling gaze settled upon the two legs, his timberwolf, then he saw thirteen more things to squash. Perfect.

All the timberwolves faltered upon the sight of Patches and drew closer to their alpha. Scar stood more angry at the interruption than afraid.

"Have fun, Scar!" Neil bolted for his escape; but, Scar and two other wolves got in his way. Typical.

Patches was going to dice up the two legs from behind, but ten of the thirteen wolves attacked him. Fine, they get smashed first.

Yes! It's working! They're keeping Patches distracted. It seemed Neil knew Scar as well as he believed. The freak wasn't going to let anything, not even Patches, get in the way of whatever stupid vendetta he has for the human.

Even so, Neil and Artemis had to fight off Scar and two of her pack mates to escape.

"Dad, you take out Scar first." Artemis coldly eyed the other wolves at Scar's side. "I got the other two."

Neil agreed. He opened the offensive by shooting an arrow at Scar, then attacked the wolf with his hatchet ferociously.

Scar dodged the agate tipped missile, and retreated from Neil's surprisingly capable attacks. The two legs had gotten much better in the short time since they last fought.

All that sparring with Artemis was finally paying off. Neil Kept Scar on the defensive. His winding blows missed at first, but they drew closer until Scar had to attack to avoid taking a hit.

Scar lunged just under the hilt of Neil's weapon, and the stone axe head struck a glancing blow to the beast's thigh.

Neil pivoted his weight to the left leg while Scar tried to snap his jaws over the boy's head, biting down on his forehead and chin. At best it would cost the human his nose. However, Neil let himself fall with the attack while pushing with his knees. Drawing a knife all the while, Neil rolled onto his back, drove the knife into Scar's belly, and kicked the beast off with its own momentum.

Scar stood back up and realized a knife was stuck in his stomach, just as an arrow pinned his right paw to the ground. What?! Scar's hatred for the two legs burned as he hastily chewed and pulled at the missile to free the paw.

Neil looked to see how Artemis was doing, and he found her doing pretty well in a two on one battle. The sparring payed off for her as well. Then, Neil caught a glance of Patches slaughtering Scar's warband. The ones that weren't regenerating from being demolished, like lego buildings tossed at a wall, were avoiding his attacks by crawling on his back and biting in vein. Clearly, Patches had survived enough bites he became immune to whatever venom timberwolves have.

Time to go. Neil had to end this fight with Scar. He drew the new weapon he forgot to show Zecora, the maquahuitl, an obsidian bladed weapon of South American origin, which was effectively a stone age sword.

"Dad!" Artemis screamed.

Neil looked and saw one of the wolves had broken away from Artemis while the other stayed and fought her. It was sprinting right towards him to help its Alpha. Well, we'll see about that. The wolf rushed in to attack Neil's legs and trip him; but, he swung the maquahuitl and decapitated the beast with ease. "Artemis, we're leaving!"

Artemis headbutted the last wolf clinging to her and sprinted to dad. The wolf gave chase. She took to Neil's side, and saw him split the chasing timberwolf's head with the new weapon. Yikes. She followed as dad bolted for the ravine.

Scar pulled his paw free, and watched his two pack mates regenerate after the two legs felled them. The bipedal freak had escaped. Scar knew where the blame lied for this, that manticore. Cold eyes locked on the battle, Scar turned to help his warband fight the chimera and regroup.

Neil and Artemis ran for their lives as the two parties fought savagely behind them in the dark forest.

They covered as much distance as their tired bodies could handle.

Neil was spent, he couldn't go another mile without collapsing. They stopped by a great ancient tree.

Artemis slumped and leaned on its massive trunk to rest and cool down. "Dad, we should cover ourselves with mud to mask our scent."

Covering up in mud to hide, like in Predator? He spied some low laying branches they could clime. "If they can't smell us, then we should rest up in this tree too."

Artemis finished rolling in a mud puddle, then looked up in disgust. "What, with the squirrels? Blegh."

Neil stood after slathering himself in mud. "No, yum."

The wolf giggled. "I see what you did there."

They climbed the ancient tree and Neil lied down on one of its mighty branches and supported his head on the great trunk. Artemis nuzzled in on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her to make sure she didn't fall off during the night.

She whispered sleepily, "Night, dad."

Hidden high above from the hostiles below, the hunter finally had time to process that Artemis considered him a father figure. Thinking back on their history surviving together, Neil squeezed his sleeping daughter ever so slightly. Dad, huh? He could get used to that. "Good night, girl."

The muddy survivors spent the night undisturbed, with their thirsting enemies patiently searching somewhere in the darkness below.

Author's Notes:

I chose to split this chapter because the next one is quite large and it would've blown the word count up if I didn't.

Neil seems to be getting comfortable with his new life, and even has a nice discussion here with a new and wise friend. He also learns some startling news about Artemis and the way she sees him.

He now knows for certain Luna is real after all, plus the name of this forest he survives and the land.

All in all, this was looking to be a fine end of the week.

However, it seems Patches and Scar have made it their mission to hunt Neil down no matter what. He'll have to deal with this drastic situation, one way or another. I wonder how he'll do it?

I also wonder what kind of things lurk in the deeper territories of the Everfree? Just how strange and horrible can it get? Surely timberwolves and chimeras are the worst of it, right?

Next part is in the works. It shouldn't be long before its done.

Thanks for reading,

As always, Valete.

Part Nine

View Online

Week Four: Hunted

The light of dawn tickled Neil's eye lids. They opened and squinted to block the unusually harsh greeting from the morning. He didn't realize how high they had climbed. The canopy is quite thin up here.

Neil held a hand up to shield his vision. The sun actually wasn't that strong. The horizon still turned with gentle reds and yellows. But, he spent long enough in the gloom below that his eyes were sensitive to light.

Artemis was still asleep curled on his chest. She was whimpering. The hunter gently shook her awake.

Artemis snorted and stared right into his eyes, then scanned the surrounding treetops.

Neil rose to sit as she scooted off to take a seat by him on the branch. "Bad dream?"

Artemis shook her head in disbelief. "It was a squirrel cult! They were everywhere, more than you had arrows, surrounding us." She frowned. "They worshiped carnivores, and wanted to become predators to better protect their trees. So, they were going to eat us and transform into Savage Squirrels." Artemis shuttered. "Can you imagine? That's nuts!"

"Well," Neil replied dryly, "You are what you eat."

"Huh." Artemis tilted her head. "I've never thought of it like that before." She giggled. "That's funny too."

Neil leaned over the branch to look down to the forest floor. Nothing big and ugly, hopefully no timberwolves are camping below.

"It looks as safe as it can from up here." Artemis sighed. "We won't know until we go down."

"Let's bite the bullet, then." Neil started his descent.

"What's a bullet, and why would you bite it?" Artemis climbed down with dad carefully. "Are they tasty?"

Neil had a little giggle over that. "I suppose, like if you lose in the Stock Market."

"Stock Market? What's that?"

"It's a place were people invest in businesses to make money."

"Oooh. What's money?"

"Money is something of an agreed value that is used in exchange for something you want from someone else."

Artemis hopped onto a branch below, and cocked her head up at him. "And people invest to make money?"

"Yes."

"What's a business for then?"

"To make money."

Artemis thought on this as they finished their descent.

They were close to the ground, and the ambient light died to its usual gloom and glow, which was darker now that Neil's eyes had to readjust.

"So," Artemis finally said, "People have a business to make money, and they invest in business to make money while they make money? Wow, people make a lot of money."

Neil laughed as he placed a foot down to the ground at last. "Some really do." Man, this really was like having a kid. It's too bad Neil didn't know how timberwolves age relative to human years, otherwise he'd know Artemis's true age. He'd have to figure that out later. Retraining his focus on the surrounding forest, Neil looked for danger. "Smell anything?"

Artemis sniffed the air. "No."

Neil strung his bow, readied his spear, and made certain the other weapons were accounted for before they moved on.

Their plan was to rely on the infighting between Patches and Scar so the two could escape into familiar territory. There, they could fight on more even terms. Neil had some ideas that would insure this war would end in his favor. All he had to do was make it back home.

The first obstacle was navigating this unknown portion of the forest and find the direction home. It couldn't be but a few hours from here, maybe a five hour walk at worst.

Neil looked to Artemis. "Any ideas where home might be?"

She sniffed the ground and walked around the place. She pointed her snout in a direction. "I smell you over there; I think we came from that way."

"We retrace our steps then." Neil motioned for her to go ahead. "Lead the way, kiddo."

"Stay close, dad." Serious as she could, Artemis lead the way, cautiously smelling and hearing for any sign of the enemy.

The gloom of the wild was broken in places by glowing xeno fauna, and the hanging mists clung to the still air like a blanket. Calls of insects and animals strange and familiar added to the eerie and worrisome ambiance. Neil knew Scar and Patches weren't the only things thirsting for blood here. Other strange and deadly things stalk this place; one could even kill with but a glance, or so the legend went. As for any other things that live here, well, only time would reveal their terrible natures. Hopefully, today would only reveal a clear path home.

Lord knows the survivors could use the break.

Artemis stopped and smelled the ground again. She turned sharp to the right, which put them on a thin dirt path that parted some tall bushes in the distance. "This way."

They followed that natural road into a maze like hedge of berry bushes.

Neil picked and sampled one. With no tingling or numbness a minute later, they didn't seem poisonous. He ate one, finding it tart with a sweet grape finish. They were good. He'd have to return here for more later, if he had no reaction. It amazed him how extensively these hedges stretched into the forest, like a natural barrier. He didn't like it. There were too many places to ambush from. Actually, he had no memory of cutting through any hedge of bushes last night. Why would his scent lead them here?

Artemis shared those sentiments. She too wondered why she smelled dad here. This made her nervous.

Neil unlatched his weapons as a pit grew in his gut. He whispered, "Do you remember coming here?"

"No." Artemis' eyes darted to the sides. She swore something was moving in the misty brush.

"Let's go back-" Neil looked to where they just came from, but found to his confusion and terror the path which lead them in, the one that should lead them back out, had vanished. Thick bushes stood firmly rooted over where they just walked in, like they had been there the whole time. Impossible. Try as he might, the hunter spied no logical path they could've entered from behind. All the exits were gone, swallowed up by the hedge.

What is this?

"Dad...." Artemis backed away and into Neil's leg, her eyes fixed on the scary things she was seeing around them.

Even Neil saw what had her so spooked. The hedge was slowly closing in on them, like they had sprung an ancient trap in some tomb. His instincts screaming, Neil bolted with Artemis to find a way out of this place. Shoving by bushes and wedging themselves through shrinking passages in the maze, something caught on Neil's garments and pulled him back.

Neil looked to what had a firm hold on him and felt sharp stings along his shoulder. A thorn covered vine outstretched from one of the large berry hedges gripped his shoulder and gently, but firmly, pulled him closer to the hedge. Then, to his added horror, more vines sluggishly slithered from the bush.

The hedges are hostile!

He drew the maquahuitl and cut the vile vine, then swatted the others away as they snapped at him in a pain reflex. He turned to run, but a vine slinking along the ground grabbed his ankle by surprise. He face planted in the dirt. Searing pain raced up his leg as the thorns pierced the hide chaps and into the flesh underneath.

Neil rolled on his back and saw the hedge open up to let even more vines out. Inside the carnivorous plant, the desiccated corpse of some mammal hung on the inner brush. Dust off its dried form wafted as the plant shifted, and powdered bone sprinkled to the roots. The image of his bones fertilizing the Strangle Hedge filled Neil's fear drunk mind.

His irises dilated from the horror of it. Mother of god.

Artemis jumped onto the vine and chewed through it. The thorns didn't bother her and the other vines closing in ignored the wolf. She kept them off Neil then joined him in finding a way out after he recovered.

Deeper into the Strangle Hedges they ran. They saw an escape rout, another opening in the distance! They went for it, only to watch the hedges swallow it closed.

"Damn it!" Neil spied a rocky hilltop where the hedges didn't grow so thick. They ran as the Strangle Hedges closed in faster, obviously trying to cut them off from the one place they couldn't grow.

"Go for it!" Artemis urged as she picked up speed.

Neil ran as fast as his legs could carry him, just enough to squeeze by the hostile hedges before they trapped him in; but, after the bushes closed, with their vines extending and forcing Neil to back away, he noticed he was separated from Artemis. She's still on the other side. Oh no.

Scared he lost her, Neil screamed into the Strangle Hedges, "Artemis!"

"I'm okay, Dad! " Artemis' head popped out of the hedges. Unharmed she walked right up to him. The hostile bushes completely ignored her!

Thank god. He bent down and hugged her.

She patted his back. "It's okay. These things don't like me." She giggled. "I must taste funny."

Neil finished the embrace and scaled to the safety of the hill's crest.

"Dad, there's something weird here I can't put my nose on."

Neil wondered what could possibly be weirder than being surrounded by carnivorous hedges.

"Your smell is everywhere here, like if you rolled all over the place!"

"How is that possible?" Neil got his answer at the hilltop. Standing there, to his and Artemis' unpleasant surprise, was Scar and his warband slathered in mud.

To Neil's amazement, he saw Scar holding one of his hide shoes in his mouth. Scar let it fall to the ground. How'd he get that? All this was a trap the whole time!

Now Artemis understood how dad's smell lead them to this deadly place. Scar and her ilk snuffed their scent with mud, then used the shoe to confuse her and lure dad here! She snarled at Scar. They manipulated her to get to dad!

Scar's cold gaze settled on Artemis. "Clever."

"For making it this far? That was easy." The hate burned in Artemis' green glowing eyes. "Too bad those bushes were your only chance." She dug her claws into the ground in anger.

That's my girl. Neil didn't understand whatever Scar said, but Artemis had a fire under her and it had him pumped up.

The only hate in Scar's eyes was for the human. The two legs stood by the young wolf poised to strike. Scar had her warband surround them. With the Strangle Hedges guarding the flanks, the manticore can't interfere. That's all Scar needed. End of the line, two legs.

Neil held no illusions. This was going to be one savage fight. Thirteen near immortal timberwolves versus one human and his young nigh immortal timberwolf, the human needed to come up with something to survive this. "Artemis. Do not hold back. Give them nothing, but take everything. Understand?"

"Right. I'll let 'em have it!" She imagined smacking Scar's head off, then burying it. That'll teach her.

Come on, Neil, think. He racked his head for ideas to give him an edge in this one-sided fight. What would ancient man do? It hit him. "Fire." He gritted his teeth. They can't regenerate if they're ashes. Can they? Only one way to find out.

He planned how to build a torch with what little he had. Seeing his enemy maintaining their distance, he quickly wrapped the end of his spear with a fatty cloth used for bow care in the field, then wrapped sages beard around that for tinder. He snapped the handle in half over his knee. It should burn well. He finished the torch and made certain his flints were accounted for. Good, they're here.

Scar had enough of waiting, and decided to make the first move if the biped wouldn't. She howled and all the other timberwolves converged on the two legs like a closing fist.

Neil knew if he let them all cover him like a wave on a rock it would be the end. So, he counterattacked their circle, going to the rockiest portion of the hill. The jutting boulders there would frustrate their teamwork.

One sped a little faster than the others on that side to catch Neil first. He reacted quickly and skewered that wolf with the half spear then let the weapon go. The creature fell and flailed around. As long as the spear stayed, the beast was incapacitated. One wolf down. The others were another story. He drew his stone club and the maquahuitl as three attacked. One tried to rip the club from Neil's hand.

Artemis hit that one in the face with all her might just like dad showed her. Her enemy's ancestors felt that strike. The dazed wolf let go of Neil's club and rolled down the hill.

Neil clubbed the second that bit for his ankle and split the head of the other. Clearing a path, he took Artemis to better ground at the boulders with the rest of the warband hot on their heels. With a narrower space to fight, the enemy's numbers advantage would mean less.

That freak is faster than before. Scar realized this enemy is evolving and the danger it posed grew by the day. He howled for the others to surround the boulders and converge. Trap the two legs and squeeze until it's over.

There were three passages into the center of the large split boulder formation. Neil stood more determined then ever and so did Artemis. "You get that one, while I hold these?" Neil asked her.

"Yeah!"

"They're going to come at you like a cannon ball on fire, be ready!"

Artemis stood poised, and made a mental note to ask dad what a cannon ball was later.

Neil held the two entrances and hoped his idea would work. It's still too early to light the torch. The wolves needed to be thinned out a little, and he had a theory for that as well.

They poured in from all three sides.

The hunter hit one in the head with his club and cut its head off with the maquahuitl. He kept two more at a distance with the club while sticking the severed head with the obsidian blades of the other weapon. He punted the head as far as he could, sending it soaring far over the rocks and down the hill. Two down.

The other wolves looked at each other like they were asking if that really just happened.

"Oh yeah." Neil reassured them.

While dad guarded his side, Artemis held her ground against at least three in line, the largest number she's fought yet. Artemis had a weapon in her arsenal they didn't. Dad taught her how to best fight with her paws, so she didn't have to rely on her bite. He called it boxing. The goal was to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. So, he had practiced with her for an hour a day for the last three weeks. Now, she could truly test herself.

The much older wolves approached their young opponent with an air of amusement. In their minds, they had the two legs surrounded and as good as dead; but, this brainwashed pup on the other paw would be taken back to where she belonged afterwords. No need to rough her up too much before. Right?

Wrong. Artemis stood on her hind legs in a fashion that disturbed the wolf walking up to knock her away and let the others through. She blocked his paw with hers and knocked his block off with a right slap. She watched her enemy stumble like a drunk and fall into his shocked comrades.

How could something half their size hit that hard? They attacked properly this time.

Artemis fought in a way the wolves had never seen before, taking them completely by surprise. They had no answer for it. She alternated between standing on two legs and running on four, dodging and blocking with grace, then hitting like her paws were made of rock; but, she didn't use her mouth to attack. It was against everything the timberwolves knew about combat.

"Come on!" One shouted in anger, "It's just one pup!"

"That pup is stomping our tails!" The other answered in irritation.

Artemis was having a blast. It was just like dad said, biting is a weak attack, as it leaves the head exposed. She laughed when one tried to imitate her. Aww, that's cute. She hit that one square in the nose, sending her reeling and rolling around in the dirt holding it.

Another tried to bite and hold down on her arm. She gouged an eye out for his trouble. But, a second snuck a hit in from the side, knocking her hard onto her back. Dizzy from it, she reared her hind legs to kick just as he tried to get on top of her. "Dad!"

Artemis launched her legs out and wrapped them around her opponent, then held him away with her paws on his chest. Suddenly, his snapping head flew off after Neil cut it with his weapon.

Neil tossed the head over the rocks, adding one more to the other two he deactivated. Five down.

"Thanks!" Artemis recovered and kept fighting.

"You're doing great, kiddo."

Standing on top of a boulder, Scar looked down in disgust at how the battle was going slowly in the two leg's favor, yet again! She sighed. If you want something done right....

Still holding her own, Artemis suddenly felt a massive force swat her in the side of the head from behind, sending her to the ground numb from the impact. What was that? Her groggy eyes took in Scar's fuzzy form rushing Neil from his blind side. "Scar!" she yelped in warning.

Neil saw Scar. Finally, he left his hidey hole, and the human's blood boiled. Now, it's time to light the torch.

The warband stood by and watched their alpha wreak just vengeance. They dared not interfere without an order to.

Scar held nothing back and launched himself to Neil's left hand of all things. Neil wondered why as he attacked with the maquahuitl while guarding with the club.

Scar bit on the club and pushed his body out, swinging himself on the club's handle like a trapeze performer!

What the- Neil was caught completely off guard as Scar's hind legs plowed into his side with the full force of the swing. He felt the ribs in his side flex painfully and his footing faltered.

Scar gripped on his left arm with his claws, digging deeply into it, using the fleshy appendage for leverage to attack at an undodgeable distance. Scar cut into Neil's face with a kick from his hind claws to blind him.

Time slowed down as Neil reopened his eyes wide, and watched Scar's blood chilling gaze burn into his, its jaws opening to rip the human's throat. Neil threw his arm into the beast's path and Scar bit his forearm instead, knocking the human down to his knee. I'm not dying like this. Neil gritted his teeth, sweat beading down his face, heart pounding in his ears like drums.

Everything turned red. You won't beat me! His determination to live sparked a surge of primal force from deep within and a second wind of adrenaline coursed through him; the pain vanished, leaving the boy feeling only rage and strength. Only one thing mattered, destroying this timberwolf. Scar still hanging on his bleeding arm, Neil head locked the freak to bury his steel knife into Scar's face until it ceased to be a face.

Scar let go and pushed out of Neil's hold, timing it so Neil missed and cut himself instead. The beast sized his moment and jumped into the final blow. Die, two legs.

Howling savagely, Neil put everything behind his fist and drove it into Scar's face, not even feeling the fractured fingers as it slammed into the symbiont's wooden form like a wrecking ball of stressed tissue and shaken bone.

Scar hadn't expected such a savage blow from the two legs in his weakened state. Like a sledge hammer of flesh the punch sent Scar hurling several feet away. Black dots speckled the alpha wolf's vision as he struggled to stand. Where did this power come from?

Artemis jumped onto Scar's back and dug her claws into her sides. "Do it, Dad!"

Scar cursed the interloping wolf and tried to shake Artemis off, but Neil's attack took a toll and left her weaker.

Neil wasted no time and struck the flints over the torch, lighting the sage's beard wrapping which lit the fatty cloth under it. The bloodied hunter held the lapping torch up to the terror of the wolves around him. Burn!

Artemis lept off Scar as dad swung the torch at Scar and her pack. They retreated from its heat. As she moved to stand by her father, dad turned and glared at her, red sap draining down his face in ribbons, and his eyes were stained with it. She didn't see dad in those enraged eyes, but a stranger. Something savage had swallowed him, and it was staring at her like she was next. It frightened her, and her evergreen ears pent back. "Dad?"

Neil only saw all the things trying to kill him, and how to make them dead first. Burn them all! Then, something smaller than Scar approached. What he saw in its pleading glowing eyes pulled him out of the red haze and back into focus. Neil winced at the blood burning his sight. Wiping them clean with his hide sleeves, he swung the torch again to keep Scar's warband back. "Artemis?"

"I'm here!" He's back and she was so relieved to see it.

Scar and her pack stood in awe of this. How did the two legs summon fire?! Fire is one thing Scar wasn't prepared for. The alpha had to ensure the pack was safe from the flame, even if it meant the two legs won this battle.

Artemis saw the fear in their hateful glowing eyes and tugged on Neil's hide chaps. "Come on, we gotta go!"

Feeling the tightness in his cracked ribs, the hunter pushed himself to move with Artemis. He finally found something Scar was afraid of: fire. So, to ensure the wolves didn't follow, Neil set fire to the Strangle Hedges. The hostile bushes squirmed and moved about in slow frenzied waves of burning chaos as the whole hedge was engulfed in raging flames.

The fires reached the boulder, and the wolves retreated to a new position.

Scar remained, standing on one of the split boulder pieces, surrounded by the blaze. She narrowed her illuminated bruised features at the vanishing silhouette of the two legs in the distance. Then, she saw one of her kin had finally regenerated and reattached his head below. But, to Scar's terror, the fires had since surrounded the wolf. It was too late, and the flames consumed him.

Scar howled in rage over her lost pack member, and the rest of the pack joined in after hearing the news. A pack mate then urged they had to escape the fire, and Scar lead them into the cool darkness far away from the growing blaze. Your luck will run out, sooner or later, two legs. And the pack will be there when it does. There can be no recompense, only vengeance, they all swore as one

Neil and Artemis moved until the fires were no longer in sight. The pain was too much, and breathing grew too difficult. The boy had to stop. He leaned on a tree, then slid down to his seat on the cold earth.

Artemis took a good look at him, and whimpered. "Dad, I need to heal you." She licked his face clean, ignoring how sad the taste made her. Sadness tastes like iron.

Neil cut over his fractured bones and held his hand out. "I know how gross that is; spare yourself and drool into my hand."

Artemis did so and watched him medicate himself. She stared into his eyes, seeing how gentle, yet strong they where. It was the complete opposite of what she saw in the last battle, those strange savage eyes, a monster's eyes. Artemis snuggled close to Neil as he rested.

Artemis knew, somewhere inside dad lived a monster. Maybe that's what it takes to survive being hunted by monsters? You have to have one living inside, asleep until needed, like a sheathed weapon. Father had been pushed so hard he needed to draw his.

Maybe she had one too? Would she forget dad if her monster is unsheathed?

Artemis scowled at space. She hated the idea, and hated seeing dad like that. She never wanted him to resort to losing himself again. In her mind, it meant he couldn't rely on her enough and he had to push himself too hard. This made her more determined than ever to do better, to be stronger. Dad will never use his monster again.

She loves him just the way he is.

Dad was fast asleep. She had to cover him in mud, then blanket him in branches for camouflage. She made certain their scent was snuffed out. Finally slathered in mud herself, she sat beside her father as he lied under the evergreen covering. Artemis kissed his cheek goodnight, whispering, "You can count on me, dad, promise."

They passed the night unmolested. Once again, Neil didn't dream. Reality had too hard a grip on his mind.

Day Two

Neil woke rested and feeling strong again. To his side sat Artemis alert and watching the forest with the focus of a T-800.

She turned and saw him awake. "Sleep well?"

He stretched. "Did you?"

"No."

Damn, yesterday got her riled up. "Well, I did. With you on watch, who couldn't?"

She smiled. "Can you move?"

He rose to stand, and felt little pain. "I'm stiff, but ready to go."

"When have you last eaten?"

"The last time you drank."

Artemis tried to ignore how dry she felt. It wasn't easy.

Neil's stomach growled. "Well, let's eat first, then get out of here."

"Let's."

Neil dug into his handmade utility bag and broke out a leather wrap containing the emergency rations: four bittergrain hardtack biscuits, eight strips of herb deer jerky, crushed roasted roots for a coffee substitute, a tied leather packet of dried bone broth, and a tough water skin holding three cups of potable water.

Not wanting the smell of a fire to betray his position, cold root coffee and broth will be the morning's treats. Neil dug a small hole and placed a leather cover into it. He poured some water in the makeshift bowl. "There you go."

Artemis stuck a paw into the leather bowl and drank with a sigh.

Neil set the hardtack to soften in the root coffee after it steeped in his lunchbox pot. He took his breakfast quickly. Time was the enemy.

Artemis finished drinking before Neil finished his meal.

Neil held the water skin to pour more into the leather bowl, but Artemis said no.

"You have it. I don't need much water." She lied, but hoped dad couldn't tell.

Neil's seen her drink far more just from a trip to lake Terpsichore. Now, suddenly, she's a camel? He nodded anyway. "If you say so." If she wanted to go on strict rations, then so will he.

Neil only ate one hardtack and two deer strips. He downed the coffee and packed up. "Ready?"

"Yes."

But, before they left to find a way home, Neil noticed what looked like a small ravine to the left beyond the tall grass. A funny feeling sparked an image into his head of that ravine filled with spikes. His gut told him to build it. "Hold on, follow me."

Artemis followed to the ravine and watched him start cutting branches and young trees. "What are you doing, dad?"

"I'm going to turn this ravine into a trap by filling it with spikes."

"Why?"

He paused, trying to explain the intense feeling that told him this was important, despite having no empirical reason to. "Instinct."

Artemis understood exactly what he felt. "Need help?"

"Wanna dig a bunch of holes?"

Her ears perked up and she hopped a little in excitement. "Ooooh, I love to dig! How and where?"

She's still a puppy inside. He marked two spots a distance away from the other. "Dot the ravine with holes between these two points. Make them deep."

"It'll look like a squirrel couldn't find its nuts when I'm done!"

Neil laughed. "Perfect!"

After Neil finished making sixteen spikes, he found Artemis digging the last hole. It indeed looked like some frenzied tree rodent forgot where its stash was.

She beheld her masterpiece. "I've never dug so many holes so fast before."

Neil dropped down into the soon to be spike pit, then placed a spike in a hole and packed dirt around it. "Now, we fill them quickly."

Artemis nabbed a spike and placed it into a hole, then filled it in. She saw dad tamp the dirt with his foot. "What's that do?"

"It locks it in place. See?" He tried to wiggle the spike but it didn't budge.

She jumped onto the loose dirt, tamping it all firmly, then tried to move her spike. It too held in place like it belonged there. "Hey, I did it!"

"Fourteen more to go, kiddo."

When the pit was spiked, they draped over it a loose bark rope net covered with leaves. It looked enough like solid ground to work. After Neil marked where the trap was by stripping a chunk of bark off a nearby tree, they stood on the other side, basking in the majesty of their finished father and daughter project.

Neil held his fist down to her. "Nice job."

Artemis fist bumped dad, and they both made explosion noises while flaring out their fingers.

"Now, let's get the hell out of here." Neil turned and moved down what he hoped was the path home. Artemis would let him know when she smelled anything familiar; this time, however, they were far more cautious about following smells. So, they walked on through the dark wood, eyes sharp, and ears listening.

Neil made note of the way back to the trap along the way. All was quiet. Too quiet. Then he smelled something on the wind, a unique, powerful, and repulsive stink that clung to his nose like a foul hug. It smelled like death, a scent that Neil learned was a warning. It sent his instincts into full panic mode.

Artemis smelled that all too familiar and horrible stench.

The hairs on Neil's neck raised and his body pushed back against him like it hit some wall. All he could think about was running back as fast as he could. He listened and retreated in full sprint.

Artemis ran with him the moment he turned.

Branches, leaves, and evergreen needles fell in one splintered heap as Patches dived from the canopy above to run them down. Impressive senses, two legs. Patches liked pray that made the chase more interesting.

Neil fled down the path, scanning for the mark over the trap with wide darting eyes. He knew it was somewhere to the right coming up.

"Watch out!" Artemis screamed.

A large log flew over the hunter and landed in front. Patches tossed it to block the path!

Neil had to jump over the thing, but the suddenness of it slowed him down enough that Patches sliced the human's back with a wide swipe of his bladed paw. It was a glancing blow by all accounts, but it still cut deeply, and knocked him off balance.

Damn it. Neil fell flat to the earth and desperately tried to stand.

Patches grunted with satisfaction and reared his stinger to end the hunt; when suddenly, the puny timberwolf jumped onto his face and he missed his finishing blow. Damned pesky insect!

Artemis held on and chomped the manticore's ugly nose, drawing blood. The beast threw her off and up into the air, but she landed on top of his head. She narrowly avoided his stinger attacking from behind.

Patches roared, swearing in full volume that after he pulverized her into sap jelly, he was going to tear the two legs apart slowly for her insolence.

That's it! Artemis tore at the chimera's ear. With all her might she chewed and ripped at its tough hide and cartilage.

Patches violently retched his head and flung her off, taking a piece of his ear with her. The sheer amount of murder beaming from the monster's eyes was something words could do no justice.

Neil recovered and fled with Artemis, leading the psychotic manticore to his doom, hopefully. He saw the mark; there's the trap! He crossed over the small unassuming log bridge on the side, then stumbled on purpose to fill the beast with overconfidence. Neil's injury ensured he was dead anyway if the trap failed. It's now or never!

Patches, enraged, and bloodthirsty, took the bait wholesale. He fell into the pit full sprint and was skewered. Patches the ugly pin cushion struggled to free himself as he screamed oaths of grotesque vengeance only Artemis had the ears to understand.

She spat at the foul creature, hoping the spikes would take care of him. That's what you get for hurting dad, monster. Let that pit be your grave.

Neil urged her onward and they made good on their escape. He didn't have time to bleed, and ran until he was safe enough to care. Artemis helped him medicate and he dressed the wounds with tight sage's beard dressings. He was really getting sick of the monotony of this routine. For once, he'd actually like to go a day without being injured.

There still was no time to rest. The blood trail would surely lead Patches to them if he survived. Neil had an idea. He threw his ruined hide coat into a nearby river. Its smell should fool that nightmare on legs into thinking they went down stream, hopefully.

As they left, Artemis affirmed the smell of blood was moving farther away. Good.

All in all, it's a damn good thing Neil listened to his intuition. Never before had it been so clear and strong. Maybe, relying on instinct for survival had unlocked something deep and primal? Something that modern man had forgotten after trading the cruel harshness of nature for the softness of civilization? What was it, this inner voice? Was this the fabled sixth sense?

Whatever it was, it saved his life.

The pack of two fled their hunters up stream until they came to a small cave under the roots of a truly mighty tree. It must be thousands of years old. Here would be a good place to make camp for the night. Dad left to gather firewood, and told Artemis to stay put and guard the camp, despite how much she wanted to help.

She obeyed and remained at camp, alone with her thoughts. Although they made it out of the ambush alive, Artemis took it hard that dad was harmed under her watch again. When will she be strong enough to keep dad safe? If dad wasn't far, far stronger than her, he'd be dead by now. What's wrong with her?

If she could face and smack herself she would. Actually.... She walked up to the river, found her reflection in it, and swatted it hard with a loud clap of water, then sighed with a depressed slump. It wasn't just her she was pissed at, but the monsters that were hunting them.

She's been thinking it over since that first fight with Scar weeks ago. Why would anyone want to kill dad? None of this made sense. It only made her angrier with every passing day this madness continued. How did dad deserve all those horrible things Patches swore he would do to him? Why would her own kind want him destroyed so badly they would amass a pack to see it done?

"Why can't they leave us alone?" She asked to the silent river. Its silence remained unbroken, like her gnawing fears within.

First, Artemis lost mom to the mort moss. She tried to save mom, but it was too late. Then, the stuff stuck to her and she truly believed that was the end. But, dad saved her, took her in, and became her family. Now, these freaks were trying to take him away, to steal the only family she has left. Artemis snarled at space. Not over her dead body!

"What, Artemis?" Neil stood by the brush line with the fire wood in his arms, ready to drop it and run.

She saw the question in his eyes, asking if there was danger. Artemis perked up and shook her head. "Nope, just a squirrel, taunting in the distance." She glanced to over the river in mock annoyance.

Neil didn't mention he had been standing there for a good minute. "You okay, kiddo?"

"As okay as I can be, considering."

"Right." He continued in silence. Whatever that was, she obviously wanted to think it through on her own. If she wants to talk about it, she'll ask him eventually.

They finally had a fire going inside the cave, and Neil had the full experience from his rations with a hot cup of bone broth. It warmed him and dulled the aches and pains. He had enough food to last until tomorrow.

He would have to hunt after. But, hunting while being hunted isn't a very comforting prospect. No. They needed to gain significant distance from Patches and Scar to hunt safely.

Nightfall came, and Neil snuggled up with Artemis in the dark of the cave after snuffing out the fire. They were fast asleep within minutes.

Day Three

In the dim moist cave, Neil roused himself from the stone floor, recovered from his injuries. Well, at least he had that to look forward to in his messed up routine.

He noticed that Artemis was gone.

He couldn't have breakfast without her, so he left the cave to find her. In a hushed rasp the hunter called her name and searched close by in vein. After minutes of searching without success, pangs of worry began gnawing at his guts. What if she was snatched under his sleeping nose? He saw paw prints in the soft sandy soil by the river and tracked them down stream.

They lead to a deeper part of the river. Thankfully, to his relief, there stood Artemis at the water's edge, looking over her shoulder away from the river, like something caught her attention. Neil spied nothing but forest in that direction. Something else was odd: she didn't move, appeared stiff even. "Artemis?"

She didn't react to him. Strange. He got closer and saw that she was solid stone! Something turned Artemis into a statue!

"No." Neil touched her cold solid lifeless body and his heart broke. It's absolutely true that you don't know what you have until it's gone. Artemis was an alien, and their relationship was less than five weeks old; but, in that time she became the closest thing to family the hunter had in this horrible place. No, she was family.

She wasn't an animal, as some might've called her at first glance. Artemis was a person that happened to live on a world where they walk on four legs; and she considered him her father. By all rights, looking back, he was. The human adopted a smart, sweet, vibrant, fearless creature from another world. Now, she was a lifeless statue.

What did this to her? His world shattered, Neil fell to his knees and wept for the loss of his daughter, hugging her cold form like only a broken parent could.

Just then, Neil heard the cluck of a chicken. His red eyes darted to the noise, and he spotted a cockatrice slither down a tree where Artemis had looked! The monster rose on its reptilian tail and tried to meet eyes with Neil.

Neil found the killer; the legends were true. They can kill with a single stare, and it killed Artemis! His blood boiled and with murderous focus as the hunter singled out the beast. Neil rose to his feet and readied his bow, hissing through clinched teeth, "You'll pay for this."

The cockatrice stared into his eyes with its red glowing orbs of death.

Neil didn't avert his eyes. He didn't care if he was petrified. He will avenge Artemis, or perish trying. He only needed one good shot. He aimed. All feeling died in his lower half as his body began turning to stone. Neil let the arrow fly just before his arms were solid rock. He watched the arrow hit the cockatrice in the head. Ten points. Burn in hell, fucker.

Its lifeless corpse collapsed to the ground just as the warrior turned to stone. His final thoughts were of Artemis and what death would be like. Maybe she would be waiting for him if those legends were true? We had a good run, girl. See you soon.

Everything went dark and cold.

Slowly, a light at the end of a dark tunnel broke the void. Neil still couldn't move. What is this? His vision returned and he saw the dead cockatrice laying in the shadowy forest floor. The warmth of life returned to Neil's unpetrified body. He felt his body over with his hands. He was still alive?

"Daad!" Artemis tackled him to the ground and licked his face furiously.

"Artemis!" He hugged her deeply. "My girl, you're alive!" He looked over to the chimera's corpse. When it dies, its victims revert to normal! Petrification by cockatrice isn't death, but some form of curse! Amazing. He'll reason out that madness later.

"I smelled something in the bushes, then I saw its eyes and everything went dark." Artemis nuzzled into his neck. "But, I wasn't scared. I knew you would come. This is the bagillionth time you've saved me, dad."

"Are you kidding me?" Neil rose to sit with her sitting on his lap. "You've saved me since day one."

The wolf stared deep into dad's calm eyes, there was no fear, no doubt, just happiness that she was alright. She found the answer to her worries in those brown beautiful orbs. She didn't care anymore about the monsters. This wasn't about her weaknesses or strengths against an uncaring world plotting to tear them apart. This was simply their life. And no matter what they would win, as long as they stuck together. She smiled. "We take care of each other."

"Us verses the world, kiddo?" He raised an eye brow.

"It doesn't stand a chance."

They heard a familiar roar disturb the stillness in the distant wilds.

"We need to move." Neil stood and checked to make certain all his gear was accounted for. Everything was there. There's one last thing he needed to do. Neil quickly skinned the reptilian tail of the cockatrice and rolled it into a course rag for storage. Wasting such prized hide would be a sin.

"I smell them." Artemis said with her nose in the air, "Patches survived the trap and is upstream; Scar's not far either. One must've caught your coat and ran ahead to catch us."

"I don't think Scar and Patches would ally against us."

The wolf agreed. "I think one is following the other, hoping to steal the kill."

Neil saw the cunning in that strategy. "That sounds like Scar, if I were to guess. Patches would take such interference as a bonus."

Artemis nodded then pointed to the river. "We should follow the river downstream. I still smell blood that way. If they think the scent was a trick, then following it will throw them off."

Pride swelled within Neil. She's become quite the little tactician. "Lead on."

The plan worked. They moved down river until darkness fell, gaining a sizable distance from the two monsters vying for their destruction. Neil and Artemis slept in the safety of the trees using the tried and true mud masking technique.

Day Four

Two shadows lied in wait beyond sight, hearing, and smell, as the lumbering horror walked through the gloomy mists a spear throw away, crushing a glowing mushroom in its wake. In the farther shadows, a dozen shades darted from cover to cover in silence, hungry for their mark.

Patches wiped the glowing goo off his paw on a moss patch, then sniffed the humid air for any sign of the two legs. Nothing. The hunt continues. The patchwork manticore lumbered on, fully aware that twelve annoying bugs stalked him from behind. But, he had bigger pray to squash first. They were the dessert.

Still hidden in the trees above, mud covered Neil and Artemis watched their adversaries pass on unaware they had missed their mark. The distance the two survivors garnered in yesterday's maneuver allowed Neil to hunt this morning, bagging some squirrels, which Artemis took delight in helping, and two rabbits. Artemis drank from the river as he ate. Both gorged themselves, having been exhausted by these last few tumultuous days.

Their strength renewed, the enemy finally caught up with them by midday. These beasts don't waste time, and they were getting too close now.

This deadly game of cat and mouse can't go on forever. Eventually, as both Artemis and Neil knew, their luck would run out. The beasts were too smart to keep attacking each other, knowing it would let their pray slip away. Neil admitted it to himself and sighed deeply in frustration. There was no chance of returning home, not as long as these monsters were at large.

Fighting in unfamiliar terrain had proved to be everything Neil had gleaned from history on Earth. Just ask Colonel Harold Moore what he thought of the Viet Cong's home field advantage at landing zone xray, or General Custer of the Natives at Little Big Horn. Neil knew his history and that he was on the wrong side of it.

He needed an edge, their very survival depended on something that nullified this disadvantage. But what?

Neil descended with Artemis as he ironed out plans of attack, or defense. No matter what, in his mind he couldn't engage one beast without the other swooping in and finishing them off.

Even if Scar was out of the picture, Patches posed an island of problems by himself. It seemed like he was even more invincible than the timberwolves. In fact, Neil wasn't certain if either could be killed. All he knew was timberwolves hated and feared fire, maybe that was their only weakness? Patches, on the other hand, feared nothing, stopped for nothing, and hunted everything. The murder train truly has no breaks.

It was all enough to make Neil so very tired.

Artemis looked up to him with calm reassuring eyes. "We'll figure it out."

He smiled weakly to her, his little bundle of positivity.

They moved on before the enemy doubled back, trekking down a rocky path that wound with a serpent like suggestion through the forest. If Neil didn't know any better, he'd say this path was artificial, seeing it cut down hill by purposefully avoiding the boulders and ancient trees. They two followed this still plain road system in the old wilds, wondering exactly where it would lead them.

"Ooooh, this path is spoooooky." Artemis looked around wide eyed as the strangest glowing flower she'd ever seen took off into the air like a spinning bird when she got too close. "Did you see that?"

"Careful now. The next one might take a bite out of you."

"But, the Strangle Hedges didn't like me."

"The next hedge might."

"Yeah, I guess anything's possible here."

Tell me about it. Neil doubled checked his weapon placement again, just to be sure.

After an hour of walking down the unfamiliar road, they came to a complete clearing in the thick canopy. The waning sun above greeted the parties' light sensitive vision harshly. After their eyes adjusted, neither could believe what they saw beyond the treeline.

"Mother of God." Neil gawked in awe.

"Whoa!" Artemis stood amazed at the sheer size of it. "Dad, that's the biggest hut I've ever seen!"

"That, kiddo, is a castle." Neil beheld the crumbling heap of an ancient neglected ruin from some bygone era, long since overtaken by the Everfree forest. Its proportions were truly massive. It must be a dozen acres in scope from stem to stern.

To approach the castle, they had to cross an equally old and rather dubious looking bridge over a large and deep ravine. Crossing that made Neil nervous.

Artemis, excited as she was, pranced over the bridge with nary a pause. She stood on the other side and yelled over, "It's a little rickety, but not that bad!"

"Says the kid less than half my weight." Neil muttered. He took a breath, and carefully made the journey across. After a spongy board giving under his foot nearly made him piss himself, he made it to the other side safely. The relief of it was like a wave of bliss.

"Dad, are you afraid of heights?" Artemis asked concerned.

"No. I'm afraid of the sudden stop at the bottom."

"I see." She wondered how that was different as they approached the castle.

It was even bigger up close. A grand spire must have comprised its main entrance at some point, and a huge void was left behind were the roof once stood. Only broken walls reaching up remained of the spire. The massive wooden gate stood still solid, stoically awaiting to let enter whomever cared to.

Neil pushed the door, and it creaked on unloved hinges. They entered the castle proper. The layers of foliage clinging to the crumbling walls and growing across the weathered polished floors only hinted at how old this place must be, and what beauty remained underneath whispered of its original splendor.

However, the avenues of potential this place promised might just be the edge Neil had been waiting for.

"This place is amazing."

He nodded. "It sure is."

They ventured deeper into the ruin by going down a large stone corridor overtaken by vines. To the left, jutting up at an angle, were a set of warped wooden trap doors. Time had turned the lock originally holding it shut to a rusted clump on the wet floor, leaving the doors free to warp themselves open.

"Hey, lookit!" Artemis used her body to wedge open the slightly ajar trap door revealing a flight of stone steps going down. She peered in with her night eyes. "I see the bottom, but it goes down deep."

Neil made a torch and lit it, then they descended into the depths below. At the bottom, the darkness of the lower level made a mockery of the torchlight, greedily and rather ominously consuming it. Neil could only see but a few feet ahead in the wide passageway leading deeper into the ruin's ancient foundations. He hoped nothing lived down here.

Walking onward, Artemis being able to see just fine, she guided Neil in their exploration. Turning to the right after meeting an end that split two ways, Artemis saw a large set of doors at the end of the dark corridor.

Neil saw the edges of the aged iron door were lined with paper seals, bearing sigils of some kind. The strangest part about them was how perfectly preserved they were. While the structure around them had suffered the waste of age, these frail paper seals were utterly untouched.

Neil grabbed the iron latch holding the door locked tight, then twisted it. A squelch of steel reverberated down the black halls behind. He pulled the door open, breaking the paper seals. To his surprise, whether unpleasant or not he couldn't decide, the seals turned to dust, as if they finally caught up to their age in that instant.

"That's creepy." Artemis shivered.

Inside the room, Neil could still barely see save for a great mass of things gleaming in the dancing torchlight throughout the room.

"Uh, dad?" Artemis smiled. "This is definitely your room."

To his right, Neil saw a stone bowl in the wall filled with oil. Neil touched the torch to it and the oil lit immediately. Fire raced through the walls of the room, illuminating everything inside.

Neil's jaw dropped. It was an armory!

Artemis just followed by dad, thoroughly amused by his expression of childlike wonder at all these shiny tools.

He walked further in, eyeing the racks of pony shaped platemail suits with chainmail underneath. The armor suits had holes in the back. Maybe for wings? They were forged with curves and held engravings that made them look bat like. A crescent moon was etched into the flank plate of each suit. It looked like the mark on Luna's flank. Interesting.

Racks and racks of all manner of melee weaponry, spears, axes, swords, hammers, maces, even halberds, stood ready and waiting for combat. Bows lined the walls and barrels of strings and fine steel tipped arrows were stacked in the corner.

The most amazing thing about it all was its state of preservation. It was dusty, but not even a speck of rust or rot could be seen. Everything looked new and shiny.

In the far corner to the right, Neil saw a little forge, sporting a built in anvil, tool set, and bellow. Rods stood on top filled with metal rings of varying sizes and gauges. An iron panel with a slot cut into it was poised on the left of the contraption. On a black marble pedestal was a steel cylindrical case filled with violet glowing crystals.

"Ooooh, those are so pretty." Artemis' eyes went wide.

Neil took one and the hairs on his head and body stood up. The crystal hummed in his hand and inside swirled a sparkling violet energy. These gems were cut exactly like the slot on the forge. Huh. Curiously, Neil placed the crystal in the panel.

Immediately, the machine hummed to life! The forge stoked itself alive then burned brightly. The bellow pumped itself, and the crystal glowing brighter scanned Neil with a beam of violet light.

This worried Artemis. "Dad!"

Neil held his hand out, "No, stay back!"

A ringlet flew off the rod holding it, then landed square in the middle of Neil's chest. What? More and more rings flew off the rods, forming on Neil a complete long sleeved chailmail hauberk. The armor flew off and rushed to the forge and dived into the flames.

Neil and Artemis stood aghast at what they were seeing.

All the while, a beam from the crystal scanned around for something after it found one of its compartments empty. It settled on Neil again, and out of his utility bag the leather wrapping holding the cockatrice skin floated out. The light took the skin, the strongest of two materials, and the skin grew in size. Shears floated up to cut it into shape.

Moments later, the chainmail left the fires glowing hot and set itself on the anvil. A hammer and other tools Neil didn't recognize floated over and riveted the mail together with machine like speed and precision. The leather was riveted to it underneath. When the mail was finished, the crystal scanned the suit, as if to finalize it, then set the product on the anvil. With the violet energy consumed, the crystal crumbled to dust, and the machine went back to sleep.

Well, that just happened.

Artemis blurted out excitedly, "That was soo coool! What is it?"

Neil regained his wits and held the chainmail to inspect it. The alloy was lighter than steel. He hoped it hadn't sacrificed protection for weight. "This is armor; it protects you from harm."

Wait, that metal shirt will make dad even more awesome? "Quick, put it on!"

Neil did just that. It was a perfect fit. Huh. This machine must be some kind of auto smithy, and uses these glowing crystals like batteries.

Will the wonders ever cease?

Neil set all his stone age gear down on an empty stone table. He paused, running his fingers along them. Parting with these tools wasn't that easy. Primitive and simple as they were, they've saved his life countless times, and formed a connection with the hunter. Well, on the bright side, this was as good a resting place for his old gear as anywhere. And, if he ever needed them again, he'd know where to look.

The armored hunter took hold of a steel spear from the spear rack and marveled at its perfect balance. The black handle was made of some tough wood that felt more like a polymer than a hardwood. Neil buckled himself to a new belt with a sword scabbard and a ring for an axe. He took an arrow quiver and latched it to the back of the belt.

He took one of the dark composite bows and it was a beautiful piece. He drew an arrow and shot it into a target in the other side of the room. The draw weight was heavier than his old bow. It buried the shaft of the arrow almost to the fletching. Wow. This thing is a killer.

Standing in his full new battle dress, Neil asked Artemis, "How do I look?"

She replied with kid-like excitement. "Awesome!"

"Let's hope everything works as well as it looks." Neil motioned for the exit. "Come on. There's more to explore, I'm sure."

"Lead the way." Artemis watched dad take a torch from the wall, light it, then light a bowl on the wall in the hallway.

Now that Neil knew what to look for, he understood how he missed it the first time.

With the lower level illuminated, they ventured down the other passageway, and descended a second flight of stairs to a cellar. This place was lit by wall sconces. Some could even still hold a flame, amazingly enough.

The place was dank with the smell of stagnant water and old oil. Shelves lined the ancient cobblestone walls. Most were rotted away, and bottles were scattered about the place. Some still rested on the standing shelves with blankets of dust on them.

There were leaking barrels in the center of the room. It looked like a metal box crate once held them. Only a crumbling ring of orange iron remained of it. The sustenance within the barrels pooled under their rusted seat.

Artemis scowled at the barrels. "Ew, those things stink."

Neil held the torch closer to get a better view, and the smell of oil hit him the hardest over them. He recoiled and walked back, holding his pounding heart as his stomach knotted on itself. The barrels were filled with lamp oil! If that had caught fire... He breathed easy and took a few more steps back.

"What is it?" Artemis asked.

"If those barrels caught fire they would explode, turning us into a fine mist." He eyed them suspiciously. "Let's keep our distance."

Her ears pent back. "You don't have to tell me twice." You really can't trust anything that smells bad.

There was a drain in the back of the cellar with a bronze grate covering it. A river ran through the foundation. It seemed the castle was built over a natural spring, and a channel was placed here to let it flow. Where the drain went to daylight was anyone's guess.

Other than the winding empty halls, the twists and turns thereof, and several flights of stares, it seemed this and the armory was all the lower levels amounted to.

Neil nodded in satisfaction. "Let's head back topside."

"Okay." Artemis thought this was all so cool. If they ever could live here, that would be even better. She liked this creepy place.

Once more standing in the main hall, Neil took one last look around and made his decision. This is where they will make their stand. There's a full ancient armory below. A bunch of defensible corridors and hallways wound the lower levels, even topside was defensible with some help.

"So," Artemis asked at his side, "Have we found what we needed?"

Dad nodded. "Yes." This position was everything Neil could've asked for. No more running and hiding. Here, in this ruin, the final battle between the three monsters would end, for better or worse.

Part Ten

View Online

Day Five: Eye of the Storm

In the northern wing of the derelict castle, an hour before dawn, Neil and Artemis conferred by campfire on a strategy to defeat the enemy.

Since they didn't know when Scar or Patches would discover their position, the plan consisted of three phases: the first was fortifying key defense points in the northern wing of the castle heap, starting with the gate. This was the strongest position they knew of so far.

The second phase involved scouting the remaining wings and sectioning them off. This would ensure the only way into the ruin was through the northern wing, right through the defenses.

Finally, the third phase assumed the survivor's position remained undiscovered after the last two were finished. If this was true, Neil and Artemis would light a fire in one of the ruined towers to lure Scar and Patches in, initiating the battle.

If all went well, the enemy would grind themselves to death on the defenses. If not, well, Neil had a plan b; but, he'd rather not use it if possible.

Their plan finished at sunrise, Neil and Artemis spent the better part of the day preparing their position.

Artemis placed a pole down on the pile of felled timber next to Neil. "Is this enough, Dad?"

"Yes, thanks." Neil stood hammering nails into a support for the almost finished barricade. This was the last of the fortifications.

Neil was so thankful he found most of the building materials needed in the armory: nails, tar, rope, etc. The timber had to be harvested from the ruins and the forest. The auto smithy made the nails after Neil had it scan one he found in the ruins. The machine used its entire stock of metal rings to fill the hunter's needs; but, it made enough for the work.

Neil wiped off the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his wrist, then secured the last support with four nails. "That should do it."

The two survivors took a step back and appraised their fortifications.

Neil checked off his mental list: facing the doors, the collapsed eastern wall stood blocked off with a parapet of spiked rubble; it was too steep for even a timberwolf to scale without leaving itself vulnerable. He added a walled timber platform high enough to see over the parapet. In case the fortification couldn't be held, Neil would kick over a rusted iron pot filled with lamp oil, spilling it down the parapet, then light it on fire. The eastern side would be unassailable for at least an hour after that.

The wide crack in the crumbling western wall was checked with a spiked timber barricade nailed in place on both sides. It was impossible to remove without smashing through it. In case that happened, a heavy clay pot of oil dangled above it.

That left the front gate. Its sturdy hardwood structure stood strong and ready to handle a few timberwolves, maybe even Patches for a time. Neil reinforced it with spikes and timber braces.

In case they had to retreat, booby traps were set in the interior hallway leading to the lower levels: swinging spiked logs, hanging bottles filled with lamp oil to shoot with fire arrows, and some contraptions of Neil's devising, bow turrets. Set in several kill zones down the hallways, the turrets were multiple bows from the armory nailed to rows of small poles on a central plank. There were six shots per turret. That should put the fear of god in 'em.

With the midday sun burning in the clear sky above, Neil paused for a moment to rest and appreciate it. It was so nice to be in the light again. After eight hours of hard work, phase one was complete. Scar would need siege equipment to break in the northern wing now.

As for Patches, he was siege equipment. Neil felt that rubble parapets, timber barricades, spikes, and flaming oil spills might stall the abomination, but he would break through given enough time, then Scar would follow.

However, he did devise a weapon that stood a chance of defeating the Terror of the Everfree once and for all. One would be surprised what a fistful of rotted wood dust, lamp oil, and an empty wine bottle can do. The Finnish would agree.

All in all, these defenses were everything the two survivors could muster in what little time they had. Neil nodded in satisfaction. "This will have to do."

"Phase two, now?" Artemis asked.

"Yep. Let's go." Neil donned his mail, buckled on his utility belt, then held his spear close. You never know what could be living deeper in the ruins.

Yesterday, Neil saw a stone bridge over the ravine connecting the ruin to an eastern road. That road lead into another portion of the forest, leaving that bridge in the eastern wing a risk. That needed scouting first.

What Artemis argued earlier today began to bother Neil. She said they should skip the scouting portion of the plan, because what if Scar or Patches wandered in without them noticing? If there were more kinks in the castle heap's armor, which was very likely, it would be impossible to find and plug them all.

On the other hand, Neil knew the importance of knowing one's environment. He asked, what if there's another stock pile of goods, or something else to give them a better advantage? What if there's a better position to fall back to? What about good ambush points? If they found some, should they lead the beasts into the castle and pick them off? These, and many other questions like them, Neil had to answer.

Still, his point assumed their presence would be a secret long enough to answer those questions. Before, Neil felt the risk was worth it. But, with the north wing fortified, he worried leaving the battlements unguarded might not be worth it after all. As they moved down the ancient hallway to scout the inner castle heap, Neil's mind kept wandering back to their hard work just sitting there, ripe for the taking.

Conflicted, Neil sighed.

"What's up?" Artemis asked.

"I'm just thinking." Neil rubbed the back of his head, imagining just how much of the ruin was still open, available, and unexplored. "Maybe you're right and it's better we turn back and section off the north wing after all. Better to be trapped in a smaller well fortified position, then risk being exposed in a wider unfortified one before we scout everything."

"Actually, I thought about it too, and I agree with us both." Artemis said matter of fact.

"You mean, let's not count our chickens just yet and stick to the plan?"

"Well... wait-" Artemis cocked her head. "Why would you count chickens?"

"It is an expression for, let's not make any hasty decisions."

"That's weird." She scrunched her snout as they found themselves at a junction in the hallway. The left hall had collapsed long ago, so they turned right. "Why not just say that?"

"Well, it's a saying from one of Aesop's fables; so, I suppose because Aesop became so dear to people they adopted that phrase and it's stuck ever since."

"Oooh, this Aesop sounds important. Who is that?"

"He was a great story teller on my world." Neil smiled while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I should tell you one of his stories sometime."

"That sounds fun!" Artemis perked up. "Anywaayy, I was saying we should do both. Scout a little, the parts we think are important, then close it all off." She nodded back to the nearly collapsed junction they passed. "That was a good spot to close. They would never dig through the rubble."

Artemis continued to amaze Neil by her blossoming thinking skills. He remembered the little pup that batted around the toy ball he made for her. She still has that toy back home. Artemis was about ankle height then. Now, she stood almost to his hips and gained significant weight, leaving her almost as big as Scar. Artemis wasn't a little girl anymore, but a young woman, or whatever constitutes a mature female timberwolf. She's grown so much, so fast. It's true what they say: their childhood will pass by in a blink. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Neil wished it wasn't so literal for him. Those precious weeks had come and gone, weeks not years. Yet, deep down, he knew his little girl was still in there, behind all those wonderful new mature things he's so proud of.

"What?" Artemis giggled. "Is something on my face?" She went crossed eyed to see it.

There's the little girl. Neil realized he'd been staring at her the whole time. "Nothing, sweetness. Just wondering how you grew to be so awesome so fast."

"Awww." If she were a mammal, Artemis would be blushing. "Well, I learned from the best!"

Neil blushed, for that was the best complement he'd ever been given.

Finally, after traversing the winding overgrown stone hallway, they left the north wing passage and found themselves in a grand inner sanctum with multiple entrances leading to the south, west, and east wings. With the roof overhead having collapsed long ago, the elements transformed the sanctum into more of a courtyard.

Two tattered banners hung side by side in the middle of the courtyard, one had a pony and the moon on it, the other a pony and a sun. Neil saw the lunar banner to the left and it bared an uncanny resemblance of Luna. But, that can't be her. Luna would have to be as old as this castle if that was her. That must be a relative, maybe a grandmother.

The other princess, he assumed, must also be a relative of Luna's sister, the one that raises the sun. Neil laughed lightly to himself. Raises the sun, lowers the moon, how absurd. Luna must've spoken figuratively.

At the center of the ruin, a mossy cobblestone two way stairwell lead up to a huge building still in solid condition.

Neil turned to go down the east passage and check the bridge over the ravine, but the hall was caved in.

"Well, at least we know it's secure." Artemis shrugged.

"That was easy." Neil looked to the building in the center of the courtyard. "Let's go there next."

They ascended the steps, then entered the building through two rotten timber doors barely hanging on the large rusted gateway. It was a massive throne room with two thrones and the same banners hanging above each, one throne for the sun, the other for the moon. The room was beautiful with an eerie melancholic vibe.

"Whoa." Artemis' voice echoed in the empty room. "Echo!" She giggled.

Neil wondered if this ruin was the national capital once upon a time. What caused the natives to move their kingdom's seat of power to wherever Luna resided now? Maybe he could ask her sometime, if he ever dreamt again. His sad eyes gravitated to the weathered Lunar banner hanging above the left throne.

The Everfree wasn't a place for dreams. Survival occupied Neil's total focus and will, even in sleep. When the hunter slept, it was with one eye open to the wild and the other closed to distraction. A good nights sleep is when you wake up alive. To the hunter, sleep had evolved into merely a treatment for exhaustion. You sleep because you must. You get up because you must. You move because you must. To be still is neglect. Neglect kills.

Still, Neil would enjoy meeting Luna again, someday. He wondered if she was still thinking of a way to prove her existence. What method would a princess of the night employ?

After a moment of silence, Neil breathed, running a hand through his dark messy hair. It's grown somewhat long in the last weeks, covering the tops of his ears. He felt his chin and the slight stubble growing there as well. He hasn't shaved since the Fall. He used to get teased in school for growing some facial hair at fifteen.

Goatees are gross! he'd hear from Olivia as her clones would giggle amongst themselves.

Like your milkshakes, Randy, I mean, Olivia? Neil frowned at the memory of the milkshake incident in school. Screw 'em. I'm never shaving again.

"Dad?" Artemis asked, sitting by him, looking up with concern. "Are you alright?"

He nodded to his daughter. "Yeah. I've never been better, actually."

"Ah, what's that face for though?"

"First things first." Neil huffed, seeing there was nothing of value in the throne room. "See anything?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Everything seems solid. Let's move and talk."

They did just that, and moved back to the courtyard. Neil answered Artemis, "I was reminiscing of a moment back on Earth."

"Your home planet? What happened?" She perked up in her stride, eagerly awaiting to hear his story of his home, something Dad seldom talked about.

"Well, there are these places called schools. In my school, young people go to learn about the world and how to survive in it." If they're lucky. He rolled his eyes.

"Uh, huh."

"Right, this was in the cafeteria, a place where you eat, where this, erm, person, Olivia, was involved with spiking the milkshake stand with laxatives."

"What's a milkshake, or laxatives?"

"A milkshake is a dessert drink made from sugar, iced milk, and flavorings. It's really good- aaaand now I want one." He sighed with a slump.

"Well, maybe those things grow here." Artemis puffed her chest out. "I can track down anything."

"I bet you could." He smiled weakly. "But, I doubt those ingredients grow in the forest." Neil waved the idea off. "Anyway, a laxative is medicine you take to, well, go to the bathroom."

"I see." She scowled. "Ew."

"Better out, than in." He continued, "As I was saying, Olivia had a crush on this guy named Clay. You see, he wasn't into... her? So, she spiked the stand to get back at him for, as she put it, leading her on."

Artemis's eyes were wide with concern. "Eh, how many people drank from this stand?"

"All but two had a milkshake that day: Olivia and Blake." Neil shivered, remembering the line of groaning, sweating students waiting to go to the bathroom, and the smell in the halls of everybody going in waves. Yikes. "It was ugly. Yeah, Olivia's psychotic."

Artemis deadpanned. "Did she poison you, father?"

"I was one of the casualties."

Artemis's evergreen ears stood straight like knives as her features twisted with anger. "Did she get punished for it?"

Neil raised an eye brow at her reaction. She can be scary sometimes. "Well, at the time, no one really knew who did it. We had suspicions that didn't yield fruit. But, now we know she had a hand in it, and by we I mean Trisha and myself; but, I think she conspired with Blake on it." Neil never forgot Blake avoiding the stand. "It didn't make sense that Olivia would poison the whole school just to get at Clay. Her friends were among those affected, by the by." He shook his head. "She was manning the stand. Why not poison just Clay? No, I think Blake had a hand in the part where the entire school got hit."

They arrived at the courtyard, and Artemis's scowl cooled to a frown. "Blake, you've told me about that one. Why did he help her?"

"Why, you ask?" Neil explained as best he could the motivations of Blake Thomson, A.K.A. douche baggery incarnate. "There are people in this life, my daughter, that set fires simply to watch the world burn, and Blake loves a good show."

Artemis didn't say anything for the disturbing image her father gave.

Neil grit his teeth. "It was very frustrating when Blake didn't get questioned. There's no reason he would be near the stand, the staff argued; he was on a diet for the wrestling team. Besides, who else could've done it but the one at the stand?" Neil rolled his eyes at the school staff's logic. "Suffice it to say, the school itself ultimately couldn't do anything. They couldn't prove Olivia was the culprit, and not for lack of trying." He giggled a little. " I remember the whole affair drove Trisha up a wall."

Artemis huffed; this news upset her even more.

Neil smirked. "Don't worry. Olivia didn't get away with it. Trisha saw to that."

Artemis smiled. "Ah, your girlfriend got her?"

"Hey, now!" Neil pointed at his giggling daughter. "I helped! You see, Olivia's real name is Randy!"

Artemis just blinked, then stared vacantly ahead. "Okay."

"Right?! Trisha bargained for Olivia to behave herself from then on, in exchange for her real name not being leaked. I despise blackmail; but, this was a rare case." Neil sighed with sweet sorrow for losing his ties to Earth and his life there. "Ahh, good times. Anyway, let's go this way next."

Neil and Artemis took to the western passage from the courtyard. It widened into a wide and tall cathedral like hallway. A red dusty rug with gold borders, brittle and torn with age, ran its entire length.

Neil's whistle echoed as they walked onward. "Man, impressive."

"Imagine what it was like new!" Artemis gawked in awe, before her front leg sank as a square in the floor fell in. Huh?

Without warning, the floor slid out from under Neil, revealing a dark pit! He fell in just as his spear caught the borders of the trap and held on for dear life while dangling over the gaping abyss below.

Artemis screamed hard enough her voice cracked. "Dad!" She ran to help him before he could tell her not to move.

The trap floor closed. In a split second, Neil saw it and let go of the spear before his hands were sheared off.

"No, no, no!" Artemis frantically searched for the part of the floor that opened the trap. She hopped around until she found the button and reopened the floor. She would never forgive herself if he wasn't alright.

Neil fell for a moment before landing on his back on a stone floor. Ouch. He rubbed his head and back as he stood in the pitch black. Well, he's still alive. The floor above opened again, letting in precious light, then the iron banded handle of his spear bonked him on the head. Double ouch.

"Dad, you okay!?"

"Yeah!" Rubbing the bump on his head, Neil looked around the small cube of cobble stone holding him hostage. "Don't move, alright?"

"You got it!" On shaking legs, Artemis sniffled and stayed put. The massive pang of fear from thinking she killed father by accident shook her to the core. She couldn't stop shaking, but wouldn't move an inch until told to.

Neil picked up the spear and looked around, spying no obvious exits. It was still rather dark, even with the light. He tried to jump and catch the ledge. No good, he was just a foot too low at maximum leap. Damn it. There was a dark spot on the wall to the left. Hmmmm.

Neil leaned in and saw a hole in the wall! It was large enough his arm could fit. He sucked air through his clinched teeth as he winced at the idea of sticking his hand in there. What if the pit wasn't spiked because of this? They wanted you to stick and arm inside a trapped hole, thinking it a means of escape, only to bleed out slowly after losing it.

Well, there really wasn't any other way out. He groaned and hoped his chainmail sleeve would be enough to protect him. He grimaced and put his arm into the blind hole. First, he felt nothing, then his fingers groped something warm, soft, and fuzzy. Huh? He gripped it and heard a squeal on the other side.

What the hell?

Neil tore his arm out of the hole and held it close, panting, eyes wide in terror. He didn't expect anything alive behind the wall. Suddenly, the wall and a portion of the floor shifted and spun. He grabbed for the wall to maintain his balance as it took him to the other side of the pit.

The hunter regained his posture, then turned around to see a dark hallway with sconces and a pink pony sitting on her haunches with big cyan eyes gawking up at him. Its mane and tail were messy poofs of cotton candy colored chaos. The mud crusted, battle worn, tired, haggard human held a dirty calloused hand up. "Hi."

The pony screamed, jumped into the air, ran in place in a physically impossible manner, then shot like a bullet down the hall and around a corner. The frenzied hoof steps soon died after.

Well, this castle is just a heap of surprises. Neil had a good look at the wall. It was an honestly innocuous exit from an equally benign floor trap. What is this place, a fun house?

Neil yelled to Artemis from the hole. "I found a way out! Meet me in the courtyard! I won't be long!" Holding an ear on the hole, he heard Artemis confirm the order.

She yelled down, "Be safe!"

"You too!" Neil took a breath to steel himself as the trap floor closed above. It was just him in the shadow of the deepening ancient hallway. Neil pressed on to find a way to the surface. The sconces were supported by creepy fake pony hooves. He tested each to see if they were levers to a secret passage. No dice. Only the one that pink pony used opened anything.

He turned the corner were the pony ran, and spied yet more dusted hallway. It was quiet so far. Soon, he arrived at a huge spiral stone stairwell. Looking up, he saw a light beam into the darkness from an exit. Neil looked down the sheer dead drop below and winced at the lack of rails. O.S.H.A. would have a cow.

Staying close to the wall, the hunter climbed the dusty stairs. He heard a feint muffled noise coming from the darkness below, like something yelling through a gag. He turned to find the source of the noise, but saw instead the terrible outline of a massive spider stalking him from the stairwell's pit! It noticed him see it and lunged to bite him. Neil fell back and rooted his spear in the stone steps.

The monstrosity ran head first into the spear, skewering itself. The iron tip jutted out the back of the arachnid's head. It struggled for a moment, then went limp, and slowly slid off and into the abyss below.

Neil let his breath go, and looked down. It was hard to see anything, but he still heard the muffled yelling below. He looked up, again seeing the exit cast light above. Investigating the noise meant descending into the darkness. However, it would bother him if he didn't scout it. If there were more spiders, then he needed to know.

Thankfully, the armory had a stock of lanterns. He took one from his belt and lit it. Ah, it was much easier to see now. He held the lantern over the edge and peered down again. He saw the dead corpse of the spider splayed out on its own web, then his eyes beheld the struggling form of that pink pony! The mane was visible, but it was otherwise mummified in spider silk.

He rushed down to the giant web, reaching first to yank his spear free of the spider. With the tool in hand, Neil carefully cut the edges of the silk surrounding the pony. The web gave and the pony swung down towards the stairs. Neil caught it.

The poor thing squealed in terror, not knowing what was happening.

Neil drew his knife. "Shuuush. I've got you." He cut the head free. Its bright eyes beheld him with fear at first, but relaxed after seeing that he was helping.

After the last of the silk was cut, the pink alien lept like a frog and hugged him deeply. He laid a hand on it. The pony was shivering and holding onto him for dear life. "Whoa, hey now." Neil stood, petting the creature gripped to his abdomen like a scared cat. "You're fine. It's okay." He climbed the stone stairs with the pony stuck to him.

At the top, it let go to stand. On wobbly legs it stared up to him, confused, and awestruck. Neil recognized the path back to the courtyard from here. He gestured for the pony to follow. It did, closely.

At the courtyard, Artemis saw Dad and hopped in relieved excitement. "Dad!-" Then, she saw the strange pony by him. Where did that come from? It smelled good at least, like something sweet.

The pony saw Artemis and hid behind Neil, peeking over to watch the wolf suspiciously.

"She's afraid of me." Artemis sat back, tilting her head confused. "Why?"

"You're poisonous to ponies." Neil held his hand out. "Keep your distance for now."

Artemis slumped. "Oh, right, Zecora said I could hurt them. That makes me sad."

"It's okay, kiddo. It's not your fault."

Artemis looked deep into the pony's frankly beautiful cyan eyes, and they stared back. Artemis huffed, then approached anyway.

Neil was about to reproach her for disobeying, but she stopped just a few steps away and held a paw out to the pink pony.

"Hi'ya! I'm Artemis! Who are you?" The wolf grinned a wooden toothy grin.

At first, the pony cocked its head. Then, it gasped and quickly moved to shake Artemis's wooden paw with surprising enthusiasm.

Well, holy cow. Look at that. Neil crossed his arms and watched on.

Artemis giggled.

Then, like someone flipped a switch, the pony started to bounce everywhere and jabber on in its animal like pony language. Clearly, something about the exchange had inspired excitement in the alien, excitement like a kid hyped on pixie sticks and soda.

Artemis stood by Neil as they observed the xeno's antics.

"Wow, look at it go." Neil wondered how the creature could move its body like it weighed nothing. He wondered if it was a she, or a he. Neil leaned down to check, but stopped himself. He can't just check like that, can he? This wasn't an animal, there were certain ethics to these things regarding a person. Maybe Artemis would know?

"She's got the energy of a squirrel!" Artemis gawked. "And talks as fast."

Neil asked, "How do you know it's a she, smell?"

Artemis glanced up to Dad. "No, I'm just closer to the ground."

"Oh." So much for posterity.

"She isn't slowing down, Dad."

Neil nodded while rubbing his stubbled chin, watching the pony pace and hop and jabber on over whatever had it so enthralled. "I know; I'm waiting for it to end, but it doesn't look like it will."

The pink hurricane finally stopped in front of Neil and held her hoof up to him. She said something Neil couldn't understand; but, if he were to guess, it was a greeting. He grabbed her hoof, and she shook it like a sports fan would a foam finger after their team scored.

His voice shook with the beat of her shakes. "Okay, that's my arm!" She let it go and sat down, a deep wide toothy grin on its beaming pink fluffy features.

Neil moved his arm in a few slow circles to relieve his shoulder joint. Phew. That pony is stronger than she looks!

"I like her!" Artemis stood up. "She's got spunk. Isn't that what you'd call it, Dad?"

"Well, that's certainly a word for it." Neil looked back to the north wing passage. There wasn't any time to babysit an alien, especially one that can't communicate. He took the pink creature down the north wing passage, Artemis side by side with him and the pony.

Artemis tried to talk to the alien, but it didn't understand her, and neither could Artemis parse the pony's word. This confused the wolf. "Hey, Dad. I think this pony is broken."

Neil laughed. "Just because she can't understand you doesn't mean she's broken, Artemis."

She insisted, "But, Zecora understood! She didn't use that cloud in a jar on me."

Neil hadn't thought about it until Artemis said something. She was absolutely right. That is strange. "Huh. I guess when we get back home, we can ask her about that."

"Okay. I guess she's just special." Artemis looked to the pink pony. "Sorry you're not special, friend."

Artemis is such a savage when it came to speaking her mind honestly. Neil face palmed.

At the front gate in the northern wing, Neil opened it and let the pink pony walk out. Artemis peeked out to watch.

The pony smiled and waved bye.

Neil and Artemis waved back before closing the gate.

Neil shrugged. "That was random."

"Yeah." Artemis walked away from the door with Dad back to the courtyard. "She was sweet, though. How'd you find her anyway?"

"One of those giant spiders I told you about almost had her for lunch."

That made the wolf's bark crawl. "Ugh, I hope you squashed it."

Neil shrugged. "I dunno about squashed, but it's certainly dead. I think it was the only one too."

They walked back to the courtyard, where the two stood deciding if they should explore anymore, when the corner of Neil's vision spied the outline of a timberwolf on the ruin's crumbling walls, glowing eyes looking down on them both.

"Up high!" Neil pointed at it.

It was too high for Artemis to smell in this low draft. Damn. It caught her off guard.

The beast ran to the north wing, jumping from walls and rubble heaps.

"Let's get 'em!" Artemis bolted after it.

Neil went after her. He tried to shoot the thing with his bow, but it was too fast. It jumped down from the ruin and towards the Everfree.

Artemis growled. "No!"

Neil opened the gate and they both watched the scout report to Scar in the far distance. The rest of her warband surrounded her.

So much for phase three. The hunter gripped his bow tightly, teeth gritting and jaw taught. He couldn't see in detail at such a ways off, but he knew Scar was staring right back. Their fears of being discovered before they were ready came true. Neil had no one to blame but himself. "I'm a fool. You were right, girl. Scouting was a mistake."

"I recall we both agreed to it." Artemis bared her teeth at her distant enemy. "This means we don't have to wait anymore. That's fine with me."

Just as Neil thought they would attack, Scar left, taking her warband into the forest.

"She's leaving." Artemis asked, "Why is Scar not attacking?"

"She?" Dad looked to her, this whole time he's called Scar a he.

"Yeah, Scar's a she." Artemis tilted her head at him. He didn't know?

"No, I thought... well, it doesn't matter." Neil had no clue why Scar left. He didn't like it. "Let's close the passage and prepare."

"Right!"

Neil set fire the large wooden beams holding the rest of the passage up at the point were the left turn had collapsed. The right passage soon caved in, sealing off the north wing from the rest of the castle.

Neil and Artemis prepped every part of their defenses for the coming assault. They took turns resting and keeping watch as the night passed on quietly, too quietly.

Day Six: Battle of the Three Monsters

Rain, of course it had to rain; not a drizzle, or an even shower, but a drenching down pour. The darkness came early on the evening of the sixth day. The gloom of the overburdened sky suffocated what remained of the daylight. Sheets of fat rain soaked Neil and Artemis as they peered over the parapet into the clearing. The distant rope bridge swayed in the whistling winds, and thunder cracked above, illuminating the shadows over the cold battlefield.

Neil shivered in the cold, but he dared not take his eyes away from the far treeline. Each thunder clap revealed an empty land scape for a second before being veiled again by night, each heartbeat of brilliant light betrayed only nothing. That is, until nothing became something, something thirsting for blood, a moment revealed by lightning in the darkness of the storm. Neil just waited. Soon, they would come. They had to. The moment was too perfect.

Artemis could always rely on her sense of smell, her natural gift of sight in the dark, and her sharp hearing. But, tonight pushed her talents to their limit. The scent of the sky was everywhere. The musk of wet earth was intoxicating in the worst possible way and conceivable time. The rain was so thick her night vision was useless at a distance. She struggled to see anything without the lightning, and couldn't ignore the bias clogging her nose. The rain's constant patter on the ground filled her ears, further dulling the world around her. She was effectively as limited as Dad in this hellish storm. Now she understood what it was like to have a human's senses, and it genuinely terrified her. How was father able to live like this? But, he had, all this time, through everything. Her respect for him grew even stronger.

A lightning flash illuminated the field. Neil saw them: timberwolves lumbering out the treeline. Scar's finally making her move. Neil gripped his spear tight. "See them?"

Artemis nodded. "Yeah. Wait, something's not right."

Neil saw what she meant. There were supposed to be only 13 wolves, right? Yet, more and more marched from the treeline. Neil's breathing quickened and his eyes widened on instinct. Was this some trick of the storm? It couldn't be real. "Do you see more than thirteen too?"

Artemis whimpered. "I was hoping it was my imagination."

"Damn it." Neil scowled. Dozens were pouring out in waves. Mother of god. There has to be fifty of them at least! Scar must've called in all forces. Just what is she to all those wolves? How can one wolf command so many? They can't all be from the same pack, could they? Regardless, once again Scar pulled another surprise the human didn't see coming.

Artemis didn't scare easy, but seeing each lightning clap reveal wave after wave of hostiles emerging from the forest put knots in her wooden belly. The number likely stood now beyond seventy. "Dad, we built our plan, the defenses, everything, around what we've been fighting so far."

"I know."

She considered her father. His undisturbed mettle renewed her confidence, but she asked anyway. "Plan b?"

"Maybe. But, not yet. That's the last resort."

She understood.

Neil came up with a way to slow them down, but he had to act quickly. He rose and told Artemis to follow him, then ran with her out into the field before stopping at their side of the bridge.

When Scar and her army approached on the other side. Neil saw the lone wolf standing at the head of the horde. She stared right at him. Lightning revealed her scarred eye in the distance. The human felt the heat of her disdain within it. Actually, the entire horde shared the hate with their savage eyes. Apparently, piss off one symbiont and the rest want you dead forever.

Well, they're about to hate him even more and Neil couldn't care less. Drawing his sword, the warrior cut the ropes with two wide swipes. The bridge held to its last ropes for a moment; but, they were too weakened by time and the bridge broke. It fell to the other side, cutting off all access to the castle heap from the northern approach.

Artemis snorted. She held a paw up to her mouth. "Ha ha! You can't fly!"

Neil smirked and crossed his arms. He was about to leave Scar, for she would have to go around to the east and attack from there now, which would take a day at least, but he stopped. The horrible things he saw on their end of the ravine would've put him in a cold sweat if not for the rain.

His daughter saw it too, and she ceased mocking the flightless timberwolves. Her jaw slacked open in disbelief and terror.

Certainly, they can't fly; but, somehow, in some unholy fashion, they can grow. Neil and Artemis watched the seventy plus wolves combine into a monstrous timberwolf giant! The gigantic timberwolf roared, the gust from it pelting both the human and his wolf.

Scrambling to run, the two survivors broke for the castle as the timberwolf combine hopped to the other side of the ravine. It almost fell off, but clawed its way over the soggy edge and lumbered toward the defenses, each step shaking the muddy ground.

"Did you know you can do that?" Neil asked Artemis.

While running for life and limb, Artemis turned her head and looked at him like he was crazy. "Are you kidding me?! No! That's some scary shit!"

"You got that right! Run faster!"

Once they made it to the parapet, Neil and Artemis prepared the battlements by lighting all the fuel sources for the fire arrows and torches. The lightning now illuminated a hulking monstrosity in the closing distance. Neil recalled thinking that Scar would need a siege engine to break into the castle. Well, now she is the fucking siege engine!

Thankfully, the soaked soil was too slippery for the massive beast to sprint to the castle. It had to move at a steady pace. However, some wolves broke off from the combine and it shrunk just a little. A forward contingent of thirteen wolves ran ahead to assail the parapet, no doubt to distract and draw fire so the combine could smash through the gate unmolested.

Neil marveled at the timberwolf's grasp of tactics. Truly it was Equestria's apex predator. However, Equestria doesn't have humans, save for one. So far, the war had been a stalemate. Tonight, the true apex predator of the continent would be decided. Neil was about to show them just how much of a monster he can be. Maybe then the other monsters here will finally know to leave him alone.

"Artemis, just keep the oil and arrows flowing." Neil placed an arrow on his bow string.

"Got it!" She ran down the platform to the stock pile.

The towering combine lumbered on in the down pour as the forward force reached the two leg's defenses.

The human took aim and let fly his first of many arrows. This war bow made a mockery of his handmade bow, and the force of the missile sent a timberwolf rolling down the slippery parapet. The rest redoubled their efforts and climbed faster. With practiced accuracy, Neil sent each of the closest wolves tumbling down to meet their recovering brethren at the bottom.

One wolf at the bottom stood behind to pull the arrows out of each before they tried climbing again. What? Did... did his battle with Scar at the strangle hedges teach them the concept of having a medic? Christ. Neil shook his head and kept firing.

Then, the wolves changed tactics and moved up in one close packed box, three rows of four wolves. Neil hit the left one in the front, and the wolf in the second row helped it take the blow and resume climbing! Uh oh. This could be trouble. So, he tried shooting two quick shots. Holding two arrows in one hand, he shot the same wolf again with both rapidly. But, again, the box formation prevented it from falling down.

The timberwolves were gaining ground and they knew it. Glaring up at the human, they snarled and bared their teeth, savoring the minutes left in the climb before tearing the two legs apart.

Neil saw the gigantic combine was almost at the gate. Time's almost up. Alright, time to change ammo. Neil yelled at Artemis to bring up more fire arrows as he took an arrow wrapped in cloth from an oil pot. Lighting it in the blazing brazier next to him, soaked to the bone in the unforgiving rain, dark long soiled hair stuck to his dirty angry face, Neil took aim with the flaming arrow. The snarls ceased. He saw fear swallow their confidence. Baring his teeth at them in turn, he snarled loud enough so they could hear. "Suck on this."

The fire arrow stuck in the middle timberwolf. Howling in horror of the fire stick in its body, it reared up then bounced down the parapet to dive in a puddle. The other wolves were disorganized by this and Neil let a hail storm of fire arrows down range. Chaos erupted in their advance. Some jumped down, others ran, most stumbled and fell down in comical fashion, but they all retreated from the crazy thing shooting fire at them.

The timberwolves below put out the fire sticks and realized for themselves the two legs wasn't merely some freakish creature, but a fire wielding monster. Alpha was right: everyone was needed to slay this horrible thing. Maybe, they should've brought in some of the other clans as well? Too late now.

Neil saw them hesitate to try again. Good.

Artemis arrived with more fire arrows and placed the bag next to him, then she saw the lightning illuminate the combine. "Dad, up high!"

Neil looked up and saw the combine was at the gate. The towering monstrosity announced itself by slamming into the gate with such force it nearly knocked the survivors off their platform. Regaining his stance, and seeing the wolves below were climbing up the parapet again, Neil kicked the oil pot and shot a fire arrow into the slick. It set the parapet ablaze. He planned on the slick cutting the hill off for a while, but he didn't plan for the rain. It turned the parapet to a water slide which took the burning oil down with it.

Damn it! That'll buy him minutes only. They're going to try again once the oil washes down to burn harmlessly.

Neil lead Artemis to the courtyard before the shaking gate. They poured pots full of thick black lamp oil all over the entrance. The rain actually helped distribute it. The timberwolf combine smashed into the gate savagely. As strong and masterfully crafted as the portal was, its age finally caught up to it. It splintered and buckled more with every brutal blow. The timber supports split and shattered.

"The gate's done for!" Artemis prepared herself.

Neil merely knocked his flaming arrow and aimed.

The gate shattered open, both doors swinging ajar with such force splinters showered over the courtyard.

Neil waited for the wolves from the parapet to pour in. He shot the fire arrow into the oil slick. And those snarling beasts were running right through it. The fire caught the fuming oil alight in seconds, bathing the entrance in a black smoking firestorm.

The timberwolves caught in the blaze didn't suffer it for long; those outside of it watched on, confused and terrified. They've never seen fire behave like that before.

Some part of Artemis felt sorry for them. But, the rest of her felt it was their fault for hunting Dad in the first place. Still, it wasn't pleasant to watch.

Neil didn't count how many were caught in the trap, and he hardly cared to. Neil thought the fire would keep the enemy at bay. He turned to leave the courtyard and move into the halls, when the hairs on his neck raised. He turned to see the combine walk fearlessly through the fire! It stepped into and over the burning oil. Setting down a blazing hulking paw, it held the paw up to see it burning.

Neil watched on, disturbed and terrified, as the flaming oil began to slide off the wolf's bark, leaving it undamaged! Huh?! Neil's eyes bulged. How is it rejecting the oil like that?

Artemis knew how. "The wolves are secreting all the water they drank from the rain to wash the oil off!"

Neil looked to her in awe. "What?! You can do that?"

"If we drink too much, yeah." She showed him by pushing some water out her paw.

Why didn't the ones on the parapet do it, or at the gate? Neil wondered as the combine extinguished itself.

Artemis felt bad for not telling him before the battle. "Sorry, Dad. I just learned this like two days ago. I didn't think-"

He waved her off. "Never mind it! Just run!" They sprinted toward the ancient halls. That thing may have broken in, but it can't follow them into the narrow corridor. Scar's numbers will mean little there as well. They must get to the turrets! "Remember where the traps are?"

"Yeah!" Artemis ran with Neil to the halls, when they heard something massive scrape its claws on the crumbling walls above the entrance to the hallway.

Neil glanced up and saw two large murder orbs staring swords into his eyes, and lightning revealed the horrible patch work beast. Patches! It looked like the manticore took a page from Scar's book and used her to soften things up first.

Patches lept down and stood in the way, but a group of timberwolves jumped from the combine, ran around the two survivors, and immediately attacked Patches. The boy would've laughed if he wasn't too busy trying to stay alive. Clearly, Scar and Patches were still in fierce competition over who gets to kill him.

Patches howled and swatted the wolves away like flies, but there was always another in his way. This is getting ridiculous. The two legs would be a stain on the ground by now if these insects weren't always in the way. Fine, the beast didn't mind dessert before dinner. With one wide sweep of his paw, Patches cleared four wolves from his path, sending them flying and shattering on the stone walls. Pathetic. Then, he saw the combine try to squash his kill trying to escape by him. Nope. The manticore lept to stop it while carrying seven featherweight wolves on his back, all biting him harmlessly.

Neil and Artemis dived away, dodging the massive wooden paw that slammed into the stone floor where they once stood. Phew. That was too close. He saw Patches fly right into the combine's face and bury his stinger in its eye. Ouch. Neil escaped with Artemis into the hall while the two titans fought.

Standing at their positions in the hall, Neil primed the bow turrets, and waited for the assault; but, nothing came. Instead, he watched Patches in the distance fight the timberwolves with scary efficiency. Several times he was knocked down and slammed into the castle heap's structure, and took each blow like a sponge. Can anything hurt that nightmare on legs?

Patches did the unthinkable and began beating the combine, despite it being twice his size! He wound up his paw, and hit the timberwolf construct so hard in the face it fell over to the side, shaking the ground on impact. With his mouth, Patches started tearing parts off the wooden titan's head and tossing them away. Scores of timberwolves by the dozens materialized out of the battered combine's heap and swarmed the Terror of the Everfree like ants on a lion.

One by one, Patches merely grabbed a wolf and swashed its head like an ant. Neil and Artemis watched on with mouths agape at this brutal display. The two also noticed the wolves Patches dispatched didn't get back up.

Neil learned that fire wasn't the sole weakness of the timberwolves. Having their head destroyed was another way to kill them.

Sickened by this, Artemis conscientiously touched her head with a paw. Yikes.

Neil's body tensed as Patches started his way down the hall to them. Still fighting some twenty plus wolves with each step, the beast practically dragged them down the darkening corridor.

Having survived in this hell hole for six weeks, few things truly scared the human anymore; but, that manticore inspired genuine fear in Neil, the kind of fear a child feels after waking up in the night to a strange noise, only to notice his closet door slightly open and the black nothing inside staring back. But, what's staring at Neil wasn't nothing; it was far worse. The abyss was a friend by comparison.

His heart pounding in his ears, Neil aimed the turret and fired. The arrow sung in the air and struck Patches. He grunted at the stinging pain as the steel head buried itself in his tough hide. Neil fired the next shot, but the undulating mob of timberwolves still trying to fight Patches got in the way, and a wolf took the arrow instead.

Patches noticed this and grabbed a wolf as he advanced. He held the poor thing up in the path of Neil's third shot, then tossed the symbiont away like a soiled rag.

Mother of god! He's using the wolves like armor!

Artemis couldn't believe it.

Neil cursed when the next victim of Patches was tossed aside, having taken the last arrow of this turret. Aiming his bow, Neil shot the hanging pots of lamp oil with a flaming arrow. The pot burst into flames, and probably would've lit Patches on fire, if it weren't for the timberwolves in the way. They secreted water and the oil slicked off, left to burn harmlessly in the corners of the hall.

Fuck.

The survivors abandoned their position and moved to the next one further down the hall, as the chasing manticore activated and shrugged off every trap. He even squashed a few more wolves in tow just to keep things flowing.

Neil shot at Patches some more, to much the same effect as before. And for the next set of turrets and traps this continued. Patches barely lost a step. Were it not for the dozens of symbionts dragging on him, slowing him down, his speed would've been much greater.

The wolves bit, and raked their claws all over Patches. Save for his nose and ears, he barely felt their attacks. They were more of an annoyance than anything.

Neil emptied the last turret and broke for the trap door to the lower levels with Artemis. Closing the rotten doors, they ran down the sconce lit corridor to the final set of defenses.

The last two bow turrets stood side by side at the end of the hall. There were only two paths left to take: the right hall went to the armory, a dead end. The other path lead to the cellar. More than likely plan b was unavoidable. Both Artemis and Neil knew this.

Still, Neil took one turret and gestured to the other. "Get that one. Remember how to work it?"

"I do." She stood on her hind legs and made sure it was pointed right. It was. All she had to do was press the latches holding the strings back to fire. Easy.

Neil hasn't seen Scar for a while now. Where is she?

Artemis shared his observation. "Dad, I haven't seen Scar. Think Patches got her?"

"It's hard to say, kiddo. I doubt it, though." The warrior lit the arrows on each turret and then Patches finally squeezed down the stairs. Few wolves were on him now, most remained behind. They knew they couldn't stop him. His speed down the hall was frightening now.

"Fire!" Neil commanded and let the manticore have it along with Artemis.

The twelve fire arrows stuck to Patches actually had some effect: he stopped to pull them off.

Just as planned. Neil shot the oil bottles above Patches with his bow, setting that part of the hall alight.

"Ha!" Artemis growled in satisfaction. Burn monster.

Neil saw the flames stick to the manticore and heard him howl.

But, the beast didn't die. He set his eyes on the human, then charged forward as fast as his size allowed him in the cramped corridor.

The murder train has no breaks, and now it's on fire like the devil had blessed its bloody voyage. It wouldn't die before taking the two legs with it.

Artemis screamed and the color drained from Neil's face. They ran for their lives as Patches' blazing form slammed against the corridor wall after making a hard left turn. The smell of searing flesh and burnt hair filled their noses as the beast chased them with terrible bloodthirst and abandon. Can anything stop Patches? Is he even mortal?

And, to add fuel to the literal hellstorm behind them, Neil saw water pouring down from a crack in the ceiling, a thick sheet of water. Oh no. He knew that would wash the fire off Patches.

"You've got to be kidding!" Artemis cursed their luck.

They ran through the water and heard the hiss behind as Patches put himself out before resuming the chase.

The cellar was separated from the hall by a set of large wooden doors. The survivors slammed the doors shut together and Neil barred it with an old but intact wooden beam. The door shuttered as Patches slammed into it from the other side.

Artemis looked around, and she was afraid. They were trapped, cut off from escape, all except the nigh suicidal alternative that both warriors dreaded to use. If there was ever a time to say it, now that Dad had the ears to listen, it was now. Artemis looked to her battle worn father at her side. "Dad?"

He glanced down to her. "Yeah?"

She took in his disheveled and filthy appearance, but those kind, strong eyes remained the same. She will never forget those eyes. "In case this is our last moment together, I have to say something."

Neil's eyes darted to the breaking barricade. The timberwolves must've caught up to Patches somehow, despite the fire. He heard the beast fighting them and trying to break in at the same time, which slowed Patches down. Gripping his spear tighter, Neil considered his alien daughter again.

"You might know this already, but I haven't told you. You are my family, my pack, my center, and the best thing that's ever happened to me." Artemis gazed at him with the most sincere look she could muster. "You helped me become what I am. No matter what, if we live or die," she blinked slow and long as trails of luminescent sap flowed from her closed glowing soft green eyes, "I love you forever, Dad."

Now he knew what that slow blink meant. That moved Neil in places deeper than he knew he possessed. The human fought the urge to cry, as such beauty would demand. There would be time to cry later. He blinked back, letting go the sole two streaks of water that cut clean streaks down his dirty face. "I love you forever, my daughter." He smiled to her as the wooden beam holding the door cracked. "We won't die. We will live. It's us versus the world."

Artemis growled as she readied herself after Patches pounded the wooden door again. "It doesn't stand a chance!"

Artemis heard a growl from behind.

She looked back and saw an all too familiar glowing scarred eye upon her.

Neil turned and cursed, seeing Scar and two other wolves at her sides standing behind them. So, knowing this spot would be their last stand, she's been waiting down here for the entire siege? The boy didn't question it, considering how cunning this foe was. "Artemis, can you translate for me?"

"Oh yeah."

"Good." He pointed his steel spear at the wolf, grinning at her deathly glare. "I'm actually disappointed, Scar. No killer hedges, not one trap, not even a banana peel to trip on? Just you and two casualties? You've lost your touch."

Artemis happily told Scar this.

Scar's gaze didn't avert from Neil. "Cute." She lunged with her groupies.

Artemis and Neil engaged in kind as the door behind was nearly smashed in.

Artemis dealt with the two other wolves. She was bigger than at the strangle hedges, stronger too. Yet, these wolves were better than the ones she fought before. Clearly Scar brought her two best for this mission. They got more than a few hits in and kept Artemis fully occupied.

Neil traded blows with Scar, who kept up with him with every step. She's learning his moves and was harder to hit. Scar drew close enough to bite the spear handle near his supporting hand. The wolf ripped the spear from his grasp and tossed it away, where it clanked by the drain across the cellar.

Back handing Scar's biting face away, Neil drew his sword. Now the tables turned. Scar's never seen a sword before, and each swing sent her reeling back to avoid its edge. Neil was no swordsman, but he knew to slash with the momentum to keep the blade flowing into the next attack. Scar kept dodging and snapping at him. Annoyed, Neil yelled, "Stay still, mongrel!" Finally, his weapon made contact and off went Scar's head.

Artemis also won on her end after knocking off the heads of her two foes.

In three heaps the enemy lied defeated, three now regenerating heaps.

Exacerbated by this, Neil and Artemis sighed, then prepared for round two. However, to their surprise, the heap joined together in front of Neil.

His eyes widened at Scar reformed, renewed with the added power of the other two. Combine Scar stood a head taller than him and three times as built.

"Give me a break." Not the best choice of words, because Scar swatted Neil so hard he flew and crashed into the rotting wine shelves. It crumbled on impact, sending up a foul dust plume.

Artemis rushed in to cover Dad, but Scar plucked her from the floor like a fruit and threw her against the wall so hard she flew apart.

In a daze and vision blurred, Neil scrambled to stand in the splintered filthy heap he crashed into. A horrible pain raced up his leg as the world turned upside down. Scar had his leg in her mouth and she threw him across the room. Spinning in midair like a tossed frisbee, Neil crashed into the cobble wall like a racket ball. Black and blue dots filled his blurred vision and he felt faint. His mouth tasted like pennies after coughing up blood. It was suddenly harder to breathe.

Combine Scar regarded her crumbing foe coldly. She pressed her paw harder into his chest, intent on smothering his breath in such a way it would take a little longer than necessary. This is for everything you've put us through, monster. Scar bared her teeth, savoring sweet assured victory.

Suddenly, Scar's eyes widened in terror as a fiery pain bit her in the rear. Looking back, she beheld a fire arrow stuck in her hindquarters! Yelping, the large killer beast left her kill and frantically tried to put her butt out!

"Dad!" Artemis didn't know how long that would distract Scar, and quickly helped Dad up by pulling his collar. "Get up!"

Neil stood, weakened, shaky, and heaving for breath now that he could breathe. With clearing vision, the boy beheld a most unusual and frankly hilarious sight. Scar was scooting her butt on the cobble floor like a dog with worms, only it was a different fiery sensation she was trying to extinguish.

He regarded his daughter standing to the right with a raised eye brow. She looked up to him.

She giggled.

He giggled.

They both burst out laughing after Scar's second pass across the room. It was too absurd.

Scar's anger was palatable after dealing with her burning tail. Her eyes would've shot lasers if that were possible. How dare they? She seethed, embarrassed, and shaking with rage. How dare they laugh? Fully intent on chewing Neil's face off this time, she'd give them no more chances and attacked.

The two survivors took on Combine Scar together. Neil with his sword and Artemis with her paws of stone. Alone, face to face, neither stood much of a match for Scar in this form. But, as a team, they pushed Scar back. For every blow Scar reared to make, one or the other would attack and defend. She couldn't hit one without the other punishing her for it.

Scar tried to rip the sword from the human's grasp, but Artemis was quick with a nasty jab that sent the combine off balance. Scar couldn't believe how hard that wolf hit. Neil cut Scar's leg at the joint, sending her crumbling to her knees. Together, the team kicked Scar, sending her tumbling into the barred door.

When she recovered, Scar saw both Neil and Artemis retreating to the oil stockpile. Her instincts were screaming to look back. She did, just in time for the shattered doors to finally burst open. Patches came rushing in. Now she was the one tossed aside like a frisbee. The wolves on the other side of the door poured in by the dozens and continued to harass Patches.

First, their efforts were cute, then boring, then annoying, now they're really starting to piss the beast off.

Now the clusterfuck had smashed its way into the cellar, and Neil found himself just yards away from being sucked into it. Either he got his throat ripped out by Scar, or turned into a stain by Patches. Getting stuck in wasn't an option. Running through meant the same, so going back the way they came to escape wasn't an option. Only one choice remained, plan b, and he cursed.

Plan b was the bat shit insane idea to set the oil stock on fire and escape down the drain pipe. First, it's a horrible idea because the stockpile could simply explode right there, killing anything in the cellar. Second, Neil didn't know where the drain pipe went to daylight. It might spit them into the ravine for all he knew. Artemis would survive, but he would be a nice pulverized stain on some rocks. But, it could also lead them to safety.

Honestly, a 1% chance of living is better than a 100% chance of dying. "Shit. Kiddo, we have to ride the pipe."

"Already on it!" She held up a flaming arrow to him, then ran over to the drain cover.

Neil watched the two monsters savagely maul each other for the right to maul him. Cold sweat beading on Neil's head, he held the flaming arrow over the massive stock of ancient oil barrels. God, we don't talk very much; but, uh, I mention your mom a lot. Sorry about that. I swear I'll stop if we survive this. Deal?

Best. Prayer. Ever.

"Do it, Dad!!"

Neil let the arrow go and ran for his life as the barrels were engulfed in a firestorm. The oil slicks leaking from the pile spread the flames everywhere, turning the cellar into something like the pit of Gehenna. Timberwolves shrieked and scrambled to escape out the shattered door, but the fires were too voracious. It devoured the lower castle's foundations like a thirsting demon.

Neil and Artemis pulled the gate ajar and dove into the pipe. They rode down the slick darkness for a while. The survivors saw daylight and the tube spat them out into a deep pool. Neil rose to the surface and yelled to swim for it. It's a miracle it took this long already. Perhaps, maybe even divine intervention? Sure enough, halfway to dry land, the stone drain exploded like a rifle barrel. The castle heap way off in the distance bellowed with thick black smoke.

Fresh water filled with fish began pouring out the damaged drain pipe. Looks like the water source under the castle was let loose.

Neil crawled to shore with Artemis and they collapsed to rest for a spell. They were still alive. Thank god. Neil would keep his end of the deal.

"Phew!" Artemis smiled a big tired grin. "We did it!"

Neil held his bruised fist up to her.

She bumped it and they made an explosion noise while splaying out their fingers.

"Great job, kiddo. Proud of ya."

"I'm proud of us both! That was amazing."

"It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." He recalled the only passage from that book he cared to remember. It seemed appropriate.

Artemis was the first to look around the new place the pipe ejected them into. "Where are we? Everything's all soggy." A foul smell hit her nose, like perpetual rot and mildew. "Yuck, smells here too!" She held her paw up, pointing to the clearing sky. "At least the storm's over."

Neil inspected the environment and knew immediately where they were. "We're clearly in a swamp. That's better than a ravine, if only because you don't immediately fall and die."

"How do we get home now?" She sniffed the air, trying to detect anything beyond the bog, but it was pointless. "I can't smell anything but stink. Great."

Neil figured they could be stuck in this bog for a while, so they will camp here and rest for tonight. He was something beyond exhausted, and everything hurt, breathing, moving. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Let's rest."

"Sure." Man, Dad looks rough, but he was still alive. They survived the battle, and they will survive this foul swamp. Artemis looked around. "I'll find someplace dry."

The two battered warriors found refuge in the bog. A drier place by a weeping willow gave them a spot to bed down for the night. Neil rested his head on a moss patch and relaxed with Artemis next to him.

"Night, Dad," she whispered.

"Night, girl." But, before he closed his eyes, Neil looked up to the brilliant moon above, and saw a breath taking Lunar anomaly: his name was written on its surface. It seemed Luna had provided the evidence she promised. But, that has to be wrong. She can't do that, right? This further complicated Neil's take on how things worked on this planet. How is that possible?

Tiredness prevailed over shock, as his eyes grew too heavy. He finally went to sleep. For the first time in weeks, Neil broke his rule. He slept deep, deep enough to dream. Maybe he'll get to ask Luna himself?

Part Eleven

View Online

In the Dreamscape: Beskar and Fire

An overcast morning dimly lit the swamp. The crimson sunrise through the thick clouds set fire to the horizon, as a white blanket of fog settled on the shore beyond the foot of the willow tree. Neil gazed over the pond, his ankles devoured by the cold mist. The castle heap in the distance ceased smoking. The sheet of fire red clouds moved and rolled by faster than normal. It looked like a sky recording played backwards.

That was... new. The boy scrutinized the surrounding misty swamp lands while frogs and insects made their usual noises. The air was so close here, musty, and thick. It smelled like the basement of his school. Everything besides the sky was normal. He looked for Artemis, but didn't see her. Huh. She was sleeping next to him, and couldn't have gone far. Neil held a hand to his mouth. "Artemis! Where are you?"

Moments later, he heard from the tall grass, "Coming!"

Out of the swamp grass she approached. "This place is weird: everything's all shifty! I walked around." She stood next to him, then nodded to the grass. "All the colors and things melt together after a few yards. There's nothing beyond that, just emptiness."

"This is a dream." Neil had a nervous look in his eye.

"Weird... I've never had one like this." Artemis saw his trepidation. "Ooooh. Do you think this is bad?"

"I don't know; we'll have to wait and see." He regarded her with a hint of suspicion. "By the way, are you real, or a figment of my dream?"

Artemis reflected on this. Was she real? How would one know if they were real inside a dream? What if she was a conscious dream thing only to live as the dreamer slept? Would she die if Dad woke up? Or, is this Dad a figment and she the dreamer? Would he die if she woke up? All this gave her the creeps, and made her nervous. "I've... never thought about it before. How do I know if I'm real? Are you the dream, or am I?" Aghast, she sat down and smacked both paws to her face. "What if we're both dreams?"

"Whoa, now. Don't have an existential crisis on me." The boy kneeled then scratched behind her ear.

Artemis leaned into it and calmed down.

That wasn't the typical reaction of a figment. Does that mean they're sharing the same dream? There's only one way to know for certain. Neil snapped his fingers. "Here's an idea: when you wake up, tell me that doughnuts are delicious, then we'll know if we're sharing the same dream. Deal?"

"Yeah! I can remember that!"

Piff, pure pazaak. "Perfect." Speaking about existential crises, Neil recalled something. "By the by, I have a friend here that's going to visit us soon, maybe."

Her ears perked up. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine! What's your friend look like?"

Neil counted the list of things he remembered about her on his fingers. "She's a pony Princess named Luna. She's a little taller than Zecora, I think, has dark blue fur, an ink blot mark on her flank with a crescent moon on it; her mane flows with stars and constellations; she speaks archaic English, and she has a horn and big dark wings."

"Wow, Luna should be easy to recognize out here."

"That's accurate."

Then, in the mossy trees, Phobetor slithered on his belly in the branches, his serpentine eyes focused on the boy and his wolf. At last, the mortal returns. Many steps remained in the human's journey. The god of nightmares breathed. From his acrid breath the incubus returned, unbeknownst to the mortals below. Let the trials begin.

Neil noticed the pool bubbled like something let a large breath go beneath. Well, that's not suspicious. He narrowed his eyes at the anomaly as the sky darkened. His instincts screamed danger.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Artemis readied herself for trouble.

Something wicked this way comes. Neil didn't have his weapons on him, just the chainmail suit. "Artemis, do you see my gear anywhere?"

She face pawed. "No. I tossed your spear down the pipe before we jumped in. It's still in the pool somewhere."

In other words, he's defenseless? "No worries." Neil held his hands out and a Carl Gustav M4 recoilless rifle materialized into them with a satisfying pop.

Artemis's glowing eyes widened at the strange thing he made appear. "Whoa! How did you do that?"

"We're in a dream, kiddo." Neil readied his new weapon. "You can do whatever you want."

Artemis grinned deviously as her imagination ran rampant, ideas to test flooding in. "Is that so?" She rubbed her paws together. "Hehehe." Her imaginings were cut short, however, as whatever was under the water finally emerged.

It was the most heinously anus thing they had ever seen. A vile swamp Kraken covered in bog film and slime burst from the feted depths. It wildly flailed it's foul arms and focused its hungry eyes on the two snacks standing by the willow tree. The odor coming off it was something special.

Artemis wanted to chop her nose off. "Groooosssss! Burn it with fire!"

Neil just aimed the Carl Gustav at center mass, then fired. A fire ball erupted from the back of the weapon, sending an 84mm HE warhead speeding into the beast. In a gushing explosion of fire, smoke, and blue gore the Kraken's body ceased to resemble a large swamp creature. Blue stained chunks and tentacles rained down on the shore and into the pond.

Neil grinned menacingly as the smoking remains sank to its grave below, the gore turning the brownish scummy water a more pleasant brighter blue.

Artemis blinked. Never in her life had she seen something so... so... "Cooool!" She cheered with her paws in the air, "You erased it!" It's official, Dad's unstoppable. "What is that thing you've got?"

Neil patted the recoilless. "This is a Carl Gustav M4 recoilless rifle." He pointed to where the Kraken once existed. "That's what it does."

"Forsooth, 'tis a most impressive weapon."

Neil turned to the origin of a very familiar voice, and saw those same enchanting eyes looking back; they haven't lost any of their luster. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Luna stood behind them, holding a warm smile.

Artemis saw regal Luna and her eyes widened in awe. "She's prettier than I thought."

What was this, a timberwolf, with Neil? Luna cocked her head. And it's speaking, complementing her no less? A timberwolf that exhibits the will to speak to non timberwolves was unheard of. Luna's cyan eyes gravitated to Neil.

She took in his appearance. The human's aura had changed dramatically: instead of fear, worry, confusion, and loss, the princess saw courage, sureness, and competence, but the loss remained. Where terror once reigned, the tinge of the wild burned in those brown alien eyes, betraying a fiery resolve. New scars stripped Neil's face, trophies of past victories against the shadow of death no doubt. Neil braved nature's cruel gauntlet, and now stood before Luna wearing it!

And what is this, he's wearing a chainmail suit of pure luminium, how did he get that? Couple the gleaming armor and large weapon in his grasp, rather than a helpless thing scraping by on the edge of death, Neil seemed like the brave knight from a chivalrous poem Luna knew by heart.

All and all, the sheer magnitude of Neil's changes in these last weeks took her breath away. And, there is even one more thing to consider: what of this timberwolf? Luna noticed their looks, and caught herself staring at them in deep contemplation. She cleared her throat and approached. "Greetings, good Neil. I am beyond relieved to see thee after all this time. Verily, I am impressed to say the least. Slaying yonder nightmare with such ease is no mean feat." Luna gestured to Artemis. "Hello, fair timberwolf. I am Luna, Princess of the Night."

"Hello!" Artemis held her paw up. "I'm Artemis. My dad told me about you, not too long ago in fact."

Dad? Zounds. This beast considers Neil her father. "'Tis a pleasure, good Artemis." The manners of this timberwolf took Luna through a loop. A polite, docile timberwolf? Never has such a thing happened before. She shook the grinning wolf's paw. "Thy father toldest thou?" The immortal's cyan eyes settled on Neil questioningly, then scanned the environment. She saw the castle heap in the distance, then knew why everything seemed familiar. She asked anyway, "Pray tell, how hast thou come here?"

"That's a long story." Neil shrugged. "You got a few hours to burn?"

She approached Neil, her horn glowing. "I could meld with thy mind and use a memory transfer spell to speed things along?"

He was wary of that and took a step back. "How much of my memory?"

"Only a selective transfer, a full one will take too long."

Neil still didn't like the idea of letting her into his memories. "No."

She assured him, "I know I may not have earned the respect and trust to ask such a thing; but, have I done anything to warrant distrust?"

It's true. Luna has been nothing but kind, gracious, and helpful. "No."

"Then, good human, all I ask is to extend me a measure of faith to prove my sincerity, and good will, just this once? I promise no harm will come to thee." Luna's steely gaze locked with his as she stoically awaited his reply.

Both felt each other out, Luna looking for a sign of faith, Neil seeking for any reason to say no and simply tell her only what was necessary, for however long it took.

The boy saw nothing malevolent, and his gut gave no indication she had nothing but good intentions. Well, she is in his mind, and technically should be a guest under his power. She shouldn't be able to do anything to him. Right? Is that a theory worth testing, though? He crossed his arms. "Will I still have my memories when you're done?"

"Oh yes. By transference, I meant I will share thy experiences as if I had lived them through thee. There is no loss of anything."

Ah, so, it's like copy and pasting files on a computer? That's not so bad. "Okay, but only the memories of what happened five weeks ago after I woke up from the fever dream."

"Of course." She nodded once, then closed her eyes. "Relax thyself, and think back to the moment when thou awoke from our first meeting."

Neil did so, as Artemis watched curiously.

Luna drew close, and tapped her horn to his head. The memories rushed into her mind, along with the clarity and understanding of the human's horrific yet inspirational journey. She saw it all, the development of his beautiful relationship with Artemis, the savage war with the antagonist Scar and the monstrous Patches, and some curious and rather unexpected wildlife new to the Everfree: the giant spiders, and the strangle hedges. Never had she seen such before. That warranted investigation at a later date. She also saw Zecora, the good hermit Alchemist of the forest. It was nice to see she made friends with Neil.

Now the Princess fully understood Neil's shocking transformation. But, with the memories also came the emotions, and feelings, the fear, the pain, the worry, the isolation, the constant battle with madness from the hopelessness of lonesome survival on an alien world. It sucked the immortal stoic in and she had to rebalance herself to compensate. Then, through the battles he forged a center to draw on, a place of strength, and it fed him. Luna interpreted this as a deep inner fire. She wasn't sure where it came from, and neither did Neil.

Fascinating. Artemis played a part in it, but this fire was a quality of itself, like it had always been there, asleep deep inside, waiting to be summoned. From the flame came hope, strength, willpower, taciturnity, and courage. Through the evolving feelings Luna watched how Neil came to emanate his knightly aura now. It grew in response to a need to survive. Neil evolved himself to fit his impossibly alien environment, then worked with it, flowed with it. What he said about humans before now made perfect sense: Humans are not a figure in the land scape, but the shape of the landscape.

However, what jarred Luna the most was Neil did all this without knowing magic! This whole time, she hadn't realized just how vulnerable he truly was in her world. He should be dead. Yet, here he stands.

Humans are amazing.

Another thing that impressed her was all the new juicy information about the Timberwolf seen through the human's eyes. They were such poorly understood creatures. Luna had no idea just how intelligent they were, no pony did in fact. They are considered of sub par intellect compared to ponies. That couldn't be farther from the truth, for they seemed on par with Equine, or other advanced species. She will have to record these findings at some point.

Luna opened her eyes, and smiled to the human. "Thou survived so much in such little time; verily, thou art worthy of respect." She bowed her head to him humbly. "I salute thee."

This took Neil aback. No one had ever bowed their head to him. Was her culture similar to Japan's? Neil returned the bow just to be safe. "Thank you."

"Certainly." His instinct for humility pleased Luna. She added, "Although there are things in the wilds thou hast yet encountered, I have no doubt thou wouldst surmount them all, given the chance."

"Dad's unstoppable." Artemis proudly boasted. "Especially when I'm with him."

"Humble as always, Girl." Neil patted Artemis sitting by his side. He told Luna, "I feel like I'm more lucky than anything, actually."

"I am none too certain of that, Neil." Luna corrected. "Consider this: thou tamed one of the deadliest pack predators in all Equestria, even earned her respect and adoration. 'Tis no mean feat." She gestured to Artemis. "Timberwolves make impossible pets, even when caught as pups. They always became aggressive and never bonded to anypony that tried. Both thou, and thy adopted daughter, are the exception." Luna narrowed her eyes inquisitively at them. "How dost thou explainest this?"

Neil shrugged. "You tell me?"

"I do not think luck is the answer. Fortune is fickle. Thou art consistent."

Artemis wanted to check on something, then rose and walked to Luna.

Luna tilted her head, watching Artemis move to gaze at her flank.

Artemis pointed at Luna's cutie mark, looking back over to dad. "You were right! She does have a moon on her butt!" She giggled. "Moonbutt, that's funny."

Groaning, Neil face palmed.

Luna blinked for a moment. Moonbutt? She held a hoof to her muzzle and giggled. "Indeed, 'tis true!"

Artemis laughed with her.

Neil chuckled too, wondering what the odds were of Luna finding that funny.

Luna asked Neil, "So, I see thou appreciated my moon before thou slept?"

Neil nodded. "You know it." Literally.

"I also know thou knew of my existence beforehoof, thanks to Zecora."

"It was still a clever way to prove yourself." Neil clapped to her sincerely. "Well done. Oh, by the way, thanks for not lobotomizing me when you transferred my memories."

"Ah, yes." She rolled her eyes like an elder would to a silly child. "I was about to ask why thou believed me capable of such a thing."

"Well, think about it." He shrugged. "You can waltz into my mind. I'm sure you can twist minds too if you wanted."

Luna replied matter of fact, "Nay, 'tis not possible."

"How so?" Neil crossed his arms. "Are you saying you're a guest under my power?"

"Correct. Dost thou recall the moment thy hand penetrated a thin veil just before our first meeting?"

Neil thought back, and did remember. He nodded.

"That was a mental block. 'Tis an impenetrable barrier the mind erects upon contact with anything it perceives as a threat. It is a natural thing. However, I have not encountered one in centuries. That is why it surprised me so. When thou burst the barrier, thou gavest me permission to have a presence in thy mind; but, I can never have power over thee, even if I wanted to."

"Alright. What about all those spells you've cast at me? How could they affect me if you're merely here as a presence?"

"Simple, I cannot harm thee, but anything that does no harm is allowed."

Neil clicked his fingers and pointed to her. "Ah, I see! That's like co-op in a video game. I like that."

"While I'm not familiar with this video game thou speakest of, I am happy it helps thee understand." Luna affirmed with a singular nod.

Neil rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry if I came off as rude; that was not my intention."

Luna held up a silver jeweled hoof. "Nay, good Neil. Do not apologize. Thy suspicions of the alien with extraordinary powers art reasonable. Why, I feel this is a testament to thy goodly nature. Thou harbored these fears and yet allowed me into thy dreams, and even into thy memories. Thou art cautious, nothing more. I respect that; 'tis a trait the Everfree rewards. To not suspect death in the valley of death is to be neglectful. In the Everfree-"

"Neglect kills." Neil finished for her, his jaw slacked. Luna truly understands.

"Indeed." The forest taught Neil well, and Luna tasted the rather bittersweet development upon the shifting wind. For all this time, she believed herself a rescuer, imagining herself arriving in the last moment to retrieve a stranded alien from the jaws of wild death. When, in fact, the hunted had saved himself, then became the hunter. The irony was formidable. "So, I suppose thou no longer requires rescue?"

Artemis cracked up. "Dad, needing rescue?" She busted into laughter, then poked Neil on the leg to get his attention. "I like her; she's funny."

Neil had a chuckle over how tickled Artemis was, then withdrew into thought. He could use the help, surely; but, Neil can take care of himself, especially with Artemis and Zecora. He's built for himself quite the unit. "Sorry if I'm not the damsel in distress you expected. For what it's worth, I appreciate all your help so far."

Luna saw the hesitation in his eyes, and a trepidation in his aura. Why is Neil on the fence about being rescued from the forest? "While I believe thou art hardly helpless," Luna gestured to the bog, and the forest in the distance. "I find it strange thou wouldst be conflicted about escaping this wild place, with all its hardships and struggles? Why not live with my subjects? There is a small but beautiful town but a days walk from here, and maybe an hours flight." She pointed at the horizon. "That direction."

Neil noted the course she pointed out. Mmm, over those sludge mounds and beyond? Good to know. He held a finger up. "I will answer with a question."

Luna waited to hear it.

Neil asked, "I've been thinking for a while, what life would be like if you found me. What makes you so certain you would be rescuing me? How well would I be received by your people?" He pointed to himself with a thumb. "Me, an omnivore, a hunter, wearing the skins of animals. It's not the garments I worry about, but their opinion of me being okay with wearing them. How would they not see me as a monster? I'd rather stick to what I'm used to. Believe it or not, I'm actually settling in. I even just finished a nice hut." He then pointed to his daughter. "And my kid, a timberwolf? She's my family. Where she goes, I go. She's a poisonous predator to your people; so, if being rescued means I have to give her up, forget it."

Artemis didn't have the words to convey how happy that made her. She liked the idea that dad could live away from harm with ponies like Zecora, and maybe that pink one. She wasn't bad, and Zecora was part of their pack. But, it also made her sad, as she hadn't imagined that dad was sacrificing a safer life just to be with her.

Luna digested Neil's perspective and wisely agreed that Artemis would pose an issue. "Forsooth, 'tis possible not all of my kind would welcome thee with open hooves; but, I cannot speak for everypony. However, surely moving closer to the town at least would be safer? I am not forcing thee to move to where thou wouldst be less comfortable than, this, if thou hast truly adapted so." She motioned to the wilds around. "And, if even that isn't acceptable, thou couldst stay in my castle as I devise a means to return thee home. Artemis is welcome too, of course."

That last statement hit Neil like a truck. Luna could take him back to Earth? Didn't Helen say their portals weren't meant for humans? "I thought your portals can't handle humans."

Luna waved the nonissue away with a regal hoof. "'Tis merely a measure of attuning a portal spell to fit thy physiology."

Neil cocked his eye brow. "I've been holding this back, but now I have to ask: by spell, of course, you mean magic?"

Ah, yes. The topic of magic has finally surfaced. Luna responded simply, "Indeed. 'Tis a simple feat of the magical arts, in addition to all I have done up to now." She regarded the human's deepening bemusement stoically.

Artemis whispered, "Hey, dad, didn't Zecora mention something about magic?"

Neil just stared into space, chewing on the implications of Luna's words. Zecora was right all along. Magic is all around us, she said. That's how her potions worked, magic. Her procession on alchemy came to mind, and butterflies fluttered in his gut. He was living inside a fantasy novel this whole time. He couldn't deny it anymore, and sighed in defeat, face palming. Things just got even more complicated.

Luna took in his distress. With no magical attainment of his own, in addition to his cautious nature, Neil's negative reaction was understandable. “I know thou dost not use magic. I saw it in thy memories. Are all humans nulls?”

Neil furrowed his brow at the strange question. "Nulls?"

Luna explained, "Nulls are theoretical beings that evolved while neutral to the energies of the universe, thus they do not possess a system of magic to utilize them. Starswirl the Bearded theorized their existence. There are no Nulls on this planet. Everything evolved to be magically positive, to take a more physical role in the energies sustaining and flowing through all things here in some fashion or another."

"Ookay. On my planet, unless you call conmen and illusionists magicians, humans do not have any special abilities.” The Boy grimaced. “Real magic, what you've pulled, the stuff I've seen on this planet? Not on Earth, as far as I know. There are stories of people who did magical things, but nothing else.”

"By the moon... Starswirl was right." Luna took this information to heart. It explained the wild and untamed presence she felt around Neil.

Neil narrowed his eyes. "Why is that such a big deal?"

"Thou must understand," Luna explained, "All life on my world, regardless, have some magical attainment native to them. Magic is to us what breathing is to the lungs, beating to the heart, thoughts to the mind. Thou confirming the existence of Nulls, it shocks me. I cannot comprehend never feeling connected to the world around me. I've felt as thou felt in those transferred moments; but, this numbness thou lives with? I do not understand it."

Neil shrugged. "I don't know what you mean. What numbness?" He didn't feel sick, or have anywhere numb like from an injury. "I feel fine."

"Thou dost not feel the embrace of the world, nor the pneuma of thy lungs, and art deaf to the heartbeat of the universe. Thou floatest on it merely, like a leaf lost on the surface of the tide. My best description is, thou art like a little intelligence trapped in a bag of skin. 'Tis so outlandish, good Neil, for my body is a vessel, a conduit for life."

Artemis imagined what it would be like to not feel connected to the forest, to be deaf to its music. Dad doesn't hear the trees sing, or feel the living ground? She had assumed he could all this time. Why wouldn't he? But according to Luna the breeze is just wind to him, and the ground is cold dirt... Wow. That boggled the Wolf's mind.

Luna shivered. "Ne'er had such a visual of alienation been given to me. How dost thou cope with it?"

Neil scratched his head, wondering what numb to the world even meant. "I've read of something like that from Greek Mythology about Humans being like a flame, or a divine spark animating a body of clay molded by the Titans; but, I can't personally relate to what you're talking about. I feel as I have always felt. Sorry I can't help you understand. I don't understand it fully."

Luna wasn't surprised the null failed to see where she was coming from. They were sharing the same star but two worlds apart. Understanding will not come easily.

The idea of being numb to the heartbeat of the universe bespoke of a loneliness Luna believed she understood on some level; yet, that heartbeat held her even at her loneliest. Neil felt nothing but the clay that housed him. Chilling. "'Tis alright, Neil. There is nothing to apologize for. I shall reflect upon the gift of this new perspective. I thank thee for it."

"Sure." Neil cleared his throat and changed the subject by asking another question that's bothered him. "By the way, what exactly are you, a pegasus?" He gestured to her horn. "Unicorn?"

“Nay, I am an alicorn.”

Alicorn! That's right, like from Greek Mythology, but he forgot the name. Neil rubbed his stubbled chin. "So, alicorns have the evolutionary traits of both pegasi and unicorns, that is, flight and magic?”

"I also possess magic from Earth ponies as well, good Neil. As I said, all beings here are magical to at least some degree. Pegasi utilize magic belonging to the air element, for example."

Neil asked further, gesturing with an index finger to them, “Are your wings fully functional?”

Artemis asked, "Why would she have them if not?"

"I just want to see for myself."

Luna flapped her wings and hovered over the ground, then flew up into the sky with the agility of an eagle, then did vertical loops, and landed back down with grace.

Artemis clapped.

Luna smiled at the timberwolf's excitement over a simple trick. "I can do much more in the waking world."

Neil whistled. "Geez, having the best of everything must be convenient."

"Actually, 'tis a pain in the flank." She sat down. “But, it has its sweeter moments." She gestured to the human. "I have a question. Instead of magic, what dost thou have on thy world? Shall I hazard the physical sciences are the answer?”

“You nailed it.”

“Ah, very good." Luna asked another query. "How advanced art Humanity's sciences?"

Neil shrugged. “We've walked on the moon several times."

"I assume thy satellite is uninhabitable, without an atmosphere and such?"

"Yes."

"The Moon of my planet is the same. Magic is required to survive its cold and silent surface." The idea of braving the vacuum of space without warding and preserving spells gobsmacked the alicorn. "Forsooth, thy people must be advanced to tread Earth's satellite without magic. Verily, 'tis a great feat indeed!"

"We can do a lot, yeah." Neil looked up, then frowned at the sudden heinousness above. The sky was turning with a chaotic array of colors and cloud formations. It was like god was having a rave in the sky! He didn’t like it; it's giving him motion sickness.

Artemis followed his gaze and almost puked. "What's wrong with the sky? Make it stop!"

Luna giggled. That remained consistent since last time.

Neil pointed up. “Why is the sky doing that all of a sudden?”

Luna motioned at the unsavory shifting acid trip above, which now more resembled a warping storm of chaotic energies. “This mess is due to thy unruly mental state.” Luna knew the sky was a sign of distress deep within the psyche, even of something far, far darker. She wondered if that nightmarish shadow bane would return. Luna remained alert, but made no indication she was expecting trouble.

His unruly mental state? Neil watched on curiously as the sky's colors began devouring each other. The shifting clouds allied themselves with the ruinous powers fueling the disorderly nonsensical formations, becoming themselves a mass of unrecognizable colors and shapes undulating like some foul vomit orgy. God, it’s terrible. Neil focused on turning it into a sane, clear blue sky.

Luna watched him concentrate, clearly trying to fix the problem. She waited to see if he would succeed on his own with baited breath.

"Hey!" Artemis pointed up.

Neil cracked an eye open to see his handiwork.

"That crazy pink cloud looks like an angry squirrel on a murder spree."

Neil huffed. Nothing changed. Damn.

Luna let her breath go in one easy sigh. So close, he was so close.

Irritated that he needed help, Neil asked Luna, "How do I fix it?” He glanced over to her.

Luna stood and approached. "Thou must learn how to control thy dreams, and by consequence thy thoughts, emotions, and ultimately thy mind."

Whoa, that escalated quickly. "It's that complicated of an issue?"

"Forsooth, 'tis the only way. Thou couldst fix yonder sky with some practice; but, 'tis the product of a deeper problem. Thou wouldst do a greater service to thyself in targeting the root cause." Standing close to Neil, nocturne mane waving periodically over her regal eyes, the lunar Princess measured him up. "Thou knowest not what thou asked; still, I will humor thee." She finished matter of fact. “Thou must walk the path of the Oneiromancer to control thy dreams without fault.”

"Oneiroo what?" Artemis scratched her head.

Neil dissected the meaning of the word. “Oneiromancer, oneiro... that’s Greek for dream. The word mancer means manipulating something, like an element. So, oneiromancer must be the practice of dream manipulation. I understand now. Interesting.”

Smiling at his marvelous deduction, she nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly correct.”

Artemis added to his side, "That sounds fun."

"So, this will allow me to completely control my dreams, like a painter commands his canvas?"

"Yes." Luna gestured to herself. “I am willing to teach, if thou art willing to learn.”

Neil agreed to the alicorn's offer. “When can we start?”

“Now, if thou wouldst prefer?” She rose up to sit again with her hind legs crossed in a half lotus.

Those Alicorn joints are quite flexible. Neil held up his hands to ask something first. "One more thing: you said you could take me home?"

"Verily, we did wander from that topic earlier. I did say I can take thee home."

With a glint of trepidation, Neil looked down to his daughter. She looked up to him.

Artemis had a feeling why dad was suddenly saddened by that. Would the other humans not welcome her on Earth, like the ponies wouldn't here?

"Okay." Neil breathed and looked to Luna. "How far away is my planet?"

Luna shook her head. "I do not know, and have yet to hear from the Ordo Veritatum on the matter. But, I suspect the distance is great if the scribe thou encountered used a portal to reach thy world."

"Give me your best guess on the distance."

She shrugged. "Mayhap, at least a hundred light cycles?"

Neil assumed that meant a hundred light years. Yikes.

"Is that close?" Artemis asked.

"No." Dad answered. "It's really far away."

"Isn't that bad, though?" She protested.

"Maybe."

Luna cocked her head curiously. "So, I assume thou wishest to return home, on the morrow mayhap?"

Neil gripped his fists, and closed his eyes, letting the fact he could go home soak in for a moment.

Luna and Artemis waited patiently for his answer.

He wondered to himself, What do I do? There was a time when he would've jumped at the chance to leave, to drop everything and say, Yes, Luna, take me home! I hate this place! Things are complicated now. He finally admitted, "I need to think about this."

Artemis fought the urge to scream, What's to think about? Say no, and stay here with me! But, dad's safety meant everything to her. He would be safest with his people. So, she didn't say anything, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Artemis lied down and curled up, deeply conflicted.

"Very well. Take thy time." Luna understood. "My offer shall stand."

"Thank you." Neil joined her on the ground, placing his legs in a half lotus. He was intrigued with all the perks Luna promised with this training, like mastery of his thoughts, and mind. This left him eager to learn. "What’s first?"

Artemis watched on.

“First and foremost," Luna began, "‘Tis customary in the art of oneiromancy for the student to offer the master a token of affection, to show their genuine interest to better themselves from within.” Her horn glowed a hue of light blue and out of her mane levitated the apple Neil offered her all those weeks ago. She said to him, with a deepening smile, “This boon thou offered me before certainly fits the custom. Judging by thy indifferent expression, thou dost not know the significance of this gift. Understand, this apple came from a dead tree. To offer life from death is a most touching feat of symbolism I ne’er will forget.”

Neil loved how that simple gesture was so profound in Luna's eyes. “I just wanted to give you an apple to show my friendliness. I had no idea that was such a big deal.” Her initial reaction to his gift now made complete sense.

Placing the gift back into her mane, the Princess sat straighter. “Now, student, ready thyself. We begin by closing our eyes.”

He did so.

“Now, harken to my voice and heed my words carefully, dear student. Take thy time in learning the instructions well. Know the dreamworld moves at the speed of thought, which is much faster than time in reality. There is no cause to rush; hours here are but minutes in real time, and days pass here as hours there. Though, even this is not set in stone.” She cleared her throat. “Now, first, I want thou to imagine as clear and concise an image as possible of a night sky. See the burning stars, the orbiting planets, and the brilliant ephemeral trails of falling stars racing across the luminaries above.” She opened an eye to see her new protege at work.

Neil sat, legs crossed, full attention affixed to his imagination. Scattered thoughts from his mental periphery tried to betray the image building in his mind; but, the boy pushed them aside and held the scene in place. Soon, the assault of thoughts ceased and only the night sky remained. The canvas was clean. He birthed the sun and the planets, then synchronized their orbits. One by one, distant stars spawned in the empty night, transforming it's chaos into a magnificent display of lights. Soon, blazing streaks of shooting stars added depth to the background like brush strokes. Neil imagined the space outside the sky so vividly, he could practically taste the star dust. He even added a touch he thought Luna would appreciate.

Luna gasped suddenly. “Oh, most wonderful of nights!”

Artemis's sharp glowing eyes beheld the beauty above. "Awesome."

Neil opened his eyes to find himself within his vision. Under the stars he birthed a meteor shower which gave an extra bit of depth. The madness before was incinerated under the starlight, and from its ashes came a night sky that would arrest any onlooker’s breath. A moon orbited above this inspirational scene with a mark on its surface matching the one on Luna’s flank. He just stared at his creation agape, thinking, was that supposed to be easy?

Luna noticed the moon up high. “Lo, unless my eyes betray me, I spy my cutie mark on yonder moon! Didst thou makest a moon for me?”

Neil smiled at her obvious enjoyment of the simple gesture. “I thought you’d like that touch.”

“Like it? Forsooth, I love it!” She asked, “pray tell, hast thou prior experience in the art of meditation?”

He scratched his head. “Well, when I don't have anything better to do, I sit back and watch my thoughts for a while. I’ve done that since I can remember."

Ah, that made perfect sense. “Of course.” She gestured to the night sky. “’Tis a virtually unheard-of feat for a complete novice to produce such an extravagant vision in the first attempt. This is due to the common inability to separate oneself from their own thoughts.” She pointed to him, smiling warmly. “But thou hast already mastered such a skill. That is why thou succeeded." Luna’s smile soured to a stringent expression. “Don’t let it fill thy head, please. ‘Twas simply serendipity.”

“Yeah, I figured it was a fluke.” He laughed lightheartedly. “No worries.”

“Very good. Oft’ times egotism befalls students ere realizing their true potential, then squander themselves in a most depressing fashion.” She ignored the bad memories of seeing many initiates fail during her life. “Let the next lesson commence.”

“Hit me with it.” Neil readied himself.

Suddenly, a fluttering butterfly flew delicately by. Both Luna and Neil shot their gazes to it. How the?

It landed on Artemis's nose. She snorted and laughed as it tickled her. It flew off and away. She gasped when Luna and dad looked at her, covering her muzzle with both paws. Oops. "Uh, sorry. I just followed along. Was I not supposed to?"

Luna couldn't believe it. Tonight, frontiers were being expanded in ways unlike any generation before.

Neil pointed to the wolf. "Did you really do that, sweetheart?"

"Uh huh. It's been so long since I last saw a butterfly, so I tried to make one. I think they're beautiful."

"I didn't know you could do that in my dream."

"Actually, thou art sharing a dream together." Luna corrected Neil. "'Tis rare, but not unheard of, especially considering the strength of thy bond. She can utilize her imagination as well as you can, in theory. The strange part is, I have never seen a timberwolf within the dreamworld before, let alone one that can manipulate it." Well, now she has two students, apparently. Will the wonders ever cease?

"Scooch over here, Artemis. Join us." Neil patted a place beside him.

She did so.

With everyone at attention, Luna continued. “Thou canst separate thyselves from thy thoughts and holdest a thought long enough to project it into thy dream. Now, we practice dream vacancy, also called mental vacancy, which is the most difficult lesson to master yet.”

Challenge accepted. Neil closed his eyes and followed his teacher’s instructions, along with Artemis.

Within the dreamlike rendition of the swamp campsite, the three sat, once merely acquaintances, now students and master. After a few hours of instruction on mental vacancy and meditation, they took a break from oneiromancer training.

They sat on the pond's shore, taking in the sweet tranquility of a well-ordered sky above.

Neil lied on the trunk of the willow tree and closed his eyes, watching his thoughts dance by. They were less chaotic than usual. The training was paying off; but, something strange gripped him, like a hand reaching from afar. It dragged his mental eye to a disturbing scene: the titan Prometheus being devoured by a massive crow. Bolted to a twisted rock face as the crow tore into the poor deity, he howled for help as he had for untold ages.

To read the mythology was one thing, to watch it another! Gripped by the vision, Neil tossed and turned as Prometheus suffered savagely. When the crow finished its meal, the titan's gaunt features turned to Neil's perspective, sunken dark eyes pleading for it to end, the carrier of the divine flame now a sickly thing. His gasp was barely at the edge of hearing. "Son..."

Luna felt a disturbance nearby, something cold, and the light of Neil's aura dimmed. She turned, then saw a snake suspended over him on the tree trunk, breathing a foul black miasma into his face! It finally showed its face. Luna rushed to him, firing a ray beam at the demon from her horn.

A black cloud blown from Phobetor's nose absorbed the attack. He slithered back into the tree, hissing at Luna all the while.

Luna bared a mouth full of fangs as her eyes turned serpentine. She hissed back. Its red eyes slowly vanished from the tree above, staring right into hers. It was gone, having left as silently as it came. "Foul Incubus." She checked on Neil, as Artemis came quickly to see what happened.

Neil shot up from the vision. His face twisted into a frightening scowl. He knew the titan was calling to him for help.

Luna hushed him. "Focus. Art thou alright, dear student?"

"I'm okay." He breathed, "just a little freaked out."

Luna didn't see any permanent harm done. But, the tacky red hue to his aura concerned her. "Whatever didst thou see, Neil? A foul thing posing as a snake was bewitching thee."

Running a hand down his face, Neil answered, "I saw the titan Prometheus being tortured at mount Olympus."

She was unfamiliar with such things.

Neil noticed she didn't know what he was talking about. "I'll give you what I know about Greek Mythology to save time. If I think about it, will the thoughts be easier to find?"

Luna tilted her head. "Yes."

"Do it."

Horn glowing and touching Neil's forehead, Luna did so, and from the boy's mind she learned in seconds all he knew about western mythology. It was such a wide breadth of information, she had to take a minute to digest it after the transfer was complete.

Now Luna knew the titan, and his heart wrenching tale of sacrifice. "This Prometheus is the Greek deity that helped craft mankind by gifting them the divine flame, to free them from the tyranny of the gods?"

"Yes." Neil shook his head at all this. "I know how random it sounds; but, I feel compelled to go there and save him."

"Uhh, dad?" Artemis gestured with her muzzle to the distance. "Was that always there?"

Neil and Luna rose to see what she was talking about. Beyond the horizon was a mountain so tall it punctured into a massive cloud cover. The clouds glowed a deep menacing red, and swirled angrily around it.

"No." Neil breathed. "I didn't put that there." The sight of it made the boy nervous, like something bad was waiting for them there.

Luna relented, "Neil, I believe thou had a vision. I have had such fits of insight before. It comes with the territory of being an alicorn. Tell me what thou saw." Neil told her and things made a little more sense. "We must go to Olympus and investigate. Clearly thy mind is trying to work through something important." Luna bit her lip, gazing at the wicked mountain far away. Will the Incubus be awaiting them up there?

Artemis sighed. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go roast us a crow!"

The crow wasn't what worried Neil, but the pantheon. "We'll run into some very powerful and unsavory forces at the peak of Olympus."

Luna corrected, "There is nothing within thy mind thou cannot dominate. Thou must believe so to succeed."

Well, Neil had survived hostile nightmares before. Maybe she was right. "I assume we can get there the same way I fixed the sky?"

Luna nodded. "Indeed. Take us away, student."

Neil closed his eyes and imagined standing before the mountain, its ancient stony foundations, and the bulk of it cutting into the heavens, where divine things thirst above, watching, waiting, craving the praise, the prayers, and the sacrifices of the broken little things below. Harsh winds struck Neil's scarred features. Opening his eyes, the boy beheld the home of the vile governors, corrupt Olympus.

Artemis marveled at the sheer size of the mountain. "Whoa."

"Well done!" Luna flared her wings. "Hop on Artemis, and Neil. I shall take us the rest of the way."

Neil stared into the foreboding swirling crimson veil above, clinching his fist. "No. I have to climb on my own. You two fly; I've got this." He has to try and make it with his bare hands. If he cannot scale a mountain by his own strength, then how could he hope to defeat a pantheon of foul gods with the power to hold the fire titan in check?

Luna spied the fire burning in his aura. "Very well, I shall remain with thee all the way."

The son of the fire titan scaled the mountain while Luna ascended by air with Artemis on her back.

Several times he almost fell, each he regained himself.

"You can do it, dad!" Artemis cheered from the back of the lunar princess. Under her paws, she felt how warm and soft Luna's fur was. "Wow. You're soft and cozy." Artemis held on a little tighter, relishing the warmth.

Luna chuckled.

After breaking the thick menacing clouds, they arrived at the mountain top. Neil dusted himself off, and as Luna landed with Artemis at his side, before them approached Zeus and the pantheon, with sprawling Olympus behind them. The gods blocked the way.

A pit grew in Luna's stomach. Neil's dream had shifted in a disturbing way as the beings approached. Her skin crawled with the sensation one gets before disaster strikes. She stood ready and alert.

"They're giants." Artemis jumped off Luna to stand closer to Neil.

Neil listened as Zeus spoke in a deep thundering voice.

"We have been watching you, mortal. We know why you've come."

All the gods scowled at the three intruders, only disdain permeating their unblinking gazes.

"You cannot pass." Zeus crossed his mighty arms. "The titan is punished for his crimes, eternally. Your flesh will not live out the sentence. Your mission was ill conceived."

"Go, little man." Hera sneered, "While we spare you still."

Neil deadpanned at them. "No."

"You dare?" Hera bared her teeth, practically hissing at the boy.

Zeus humored the mortal. "Your courage is commendable. Very well, I shall educate you. Prometheus is guilty of stealing the divine flame and giving it to men. Men cannot control such power as we have suffered to see from our perch here." He pointed down to the churning clouds. They parted, revealing scenes most gruesome, of wars, massed purges, of machines bellowing poisons into the air, and all manner of other fire born sins native to men, even some greater sins yet to come.

Luna gasped at the horror of it.

Zeus continued: "I gifted fire to them in the name of freedom, Prometheus said in his own defense. Freedom from what, I asked the mad titan. You, he replied." Zeus shook his godly head. "Such insanity." He gestured to the scene in the churning clouds. "Look upon your freedom, mortal. No sane world is built when the servants are free from their good masters. We have guided men through their imperfect ways for millennia. Then, this mad unhinged creature stole and gave you a powerful weapon you mortals cannot control. The damage was done, however. There could be no going back." Zeus sighed. "For that, he is damned for all time."

"Plus," Hera added, "Mortals don't call to us; the children now falsely believe they no longer need their parents to guide them. Humanity has abandoned its place. For that we also hate the titan."

Ares bellowed, "May he suffer as the heavens turn, and may his ungrateful spawn be damned to burn themselves with his gift!"

Hephaestus grinned. "I enjoyed nailing the titan to the crag for which he rots! With Kratos, we reveled in exacting justice!"

Neil caught that discrepancy. Hephaestus lamented chaining the fire titan; only Kratos was brutal and pitiless. Who is this Hephaestus, then? Neil gripped his fists tightly. "So, despite caring so much, all of you great and noble gods remained here, powerless, because a titan gave us matches?" He frowned. "Seems like the all powerful gods are just as fragile as me."

They didn't like that one bit.

Zeus narrowed his angry eyes. "Impertinent child, you had your fun." Zeus waved at the intruders. "Begone."

Things were getting heated, and Luna loosened up, ready to move at the toss of a thunder bolt.

Neil digested the information so far: the gods hated Prometheus for giving the divine flame to his children, so they would no longer be dependent on the gods. Abandoned by humanity, the gods were consumed by their disdain. They've come to relish his suffering, and resent his fire bearing children. These selfish creatures would never allow Neil to pass corrupt Olympus and free his father, not without one hell of a fight.

Irritated that Neil remained, Zeus sneered. "Child of my enemy, remain here any longer and I shall smother your flame."

Oh, lookie here: someone thinks they wear the pants in this dream. Neil retorted back, raising his voice, "Not before I burn you with it!"

Enraged by the mortal's insolence, Zeus hurled a thunder bolt at him.

Luna jumped in the way and blocked it with a warding spell. The bolt splashed over the shield, splattering super heated plasma and fire around the barrier. The attack almost penetrated her ward. Its power surprised the Princess, like the shadow bane before.

Zeus extended his mighty divine hand and pointed at her. "You may be immortal, but you are no god. That bolt was not meant for you." Eyes radiating with power, he clenched his hand into a fist full of lightning. "The next one will be. Take the mortals and flee. Never return. This is my final warning."

Neil's mind was just like Luna's when she battled her nightmare, a battlefield between his will and the forces trying to control him. She didn't have the time to worry about why this human was fighting something only alicorns have suffered from. The foul nightmare spawn was preparing to strike again.

Artemis growled, then imagined a flying bird over that god's stupid head. Then, a majestic crow flew over, and dropped a fresh wet deuce on Zeus's head, almost vanishing into his curling white locks. Justice is sometimes ironic.

In sheer disbelief of such dissidence and disrespect, Zeus wasn't quite certain how to properly punish the timberwolf. Annihilation seemed too easy.

Hera covered her face in horrified embarrassment.

The other gods snickered amongst themselves; excepted for Ares, he roared with laughter.

Zeus cast a glance back to the laughing gods, the anger in his eyes silencing them.

While Zeus was distracted, Neil grew himself to his size, then drove his fist into the god's face with all the might he believed necessary to end Zeus, a god smiting punch.

After taking the full force of it, Zeus pushed back on Neil's fist with his face. The god's chilling unphased glare spoke of just how much trouble Neil was in.

The punch did nothing. Did he not believe enough? Uh, oh.

Zeus grabbed his head and held Neil in the air like a toy. Plunging his other hand into the human's chest, Neil screamed as the god tore out his divine fire.

Luna gasped.

Artemis rushed to help him, but Luna held her in place with a spell. Angry, she barked back, "Let me go!"

"Thou cannot help." Luna held firm.

Zeus held the lapping flame in his palm up. "So small, so dim, you sought to burn me with this cold fire?" Zeus crushed the flame in his hand, snuffing it out just as he promised. The force behind Zeus's next punch rocked Neil's world, as the god drove his divine fist into Neil's face in kind, launching the mortal off mount Olympus.

"Hold on!" Luna dropped Artemis to her back and took flight after him.

The laughter of the menacing deities behind chilled Luna to the core, then a thunder bolt burned by her, barely missing, one last toying poke before their escape. The heat of it washed over them, leaving their hearts pounding in their ringing ears.

Wide eyed, Luna snatched Neil in free fall and escaped from deadly Olympus, taking the human and his timberwolf back to their camp by the willow tree in the swamp.

Artemis stood over dad, groggily laying on his back after Luna ease him down. "You alright?"

"Just five more minutes, Mom. I swear I'll be ready." Neil went cross eyed. "I'm just too good at this game."

Artemis cast a desperate and worried look to Luna. "They broke him!"

Luna levitated a sphere of water from the pool, and let it fall over Neil's dizzy head.

"Blegh." He sat up, dripping wet, then let his breath go upon seeing the bog, relieved. They were safe from Olympus.

"That Zeus knocked you into next week." Artemis sniffed him. "You okay?"

Neil groaned as he stood. "I... feel strange, like a cat that just lost eight of his lives." He had one hell of a headache. "Ouch. That actually hurts. Dreams shouldn't hurt."

"Normally." Luna answered.

"I hoped curing the Arcanotoxin would've normalized my dreams, and our first meeting was a fluke."

"As did I, at first. After the shadow bane attacked, I felt something different, something I hadn't felt since I fought my Incubus. I was unable to inform thee sooner of my suspicions. We hadn't the time." Luna let out a long breath. "I could've informed thou before venturing to Olympus; but, I had to see it for myself, to be certain it was as I felt. Forgive me, good Neil. I was wrong to delay."

She wasn't making sense. "What are you apologizing for? Tell me what?"

"'Tis an Incubus that has thee."

Neil and Artemis shared confused looks. They listened closely as she explained further.

"I believed that only alicorns could suffer an Incubus. We have a deep connection with the magical currents of the universe, and are born with great power. This quality is a double edged sword. If the balance within is not maintained, alicorns can lose themselves while struggling with their benevolent and malevolent egos, our conscious and unconscious minds."

Neil understood the logic of that. "Power corrupts."

"Indeed, it can. It starts small. If the unbalance remains unchecked for too long, the evil within grows into a self aware nightmare. They resist their host's will, and weaken them with any method they can, their fears, worries, temptations, and so on. They slowly eat away and devour the original ego in control. It becomes more violent and aggressive as it gains ground. If the disharmony is not balanced, the Incubus subjugates the alicorn's mind, and becomes a living nightmare."

Artemis sank in her seat on the ground, fearing where this was going, and what it meant for dad.

So, it wasn't just the Arcanotoxin after all, but something worse besides it. Great. Neil chewed on this disturbing information. "Why is it always malicious? Can it be reasoned with? Why destabilize things further by attacking, not working with, the original ego?"

"Think deeper. If thou wishes for peace, thy alter ego desires the opposite, war. The selves thou and I believe we are is the conscious mind; we believe ourselves reasonable, but our unconscious selves think us mad, because they exist to contrast us in every degree. It believes to co-exist is to surrender, because we wish to co-exist with it. Understand?"

That was pretty straight forward. "Oh, of course. All this makes perfect sense... except it fucking doesn't!"

Unflinching, Luna stoically listened to his outburst, fully expecting this reaction. It was only normal.

"Can you please tell me why my own dreams are trying to kill me? Nothing like this happens on Earth! Unless, I'm going schizo before my own eyes!" Neil took a breath, his heart pounding in his ears, his blood pressure through the roof. He sat down and tried to cool off. Just when he thought things were starting to turn around, this happens, something else to survive, himself.

It's like his life was a fiction novel, or something worse... a fanfiction.

"It's okay, Dad." Artemis snuggled up to try and comfort him.

He pet her gingerly, staring long and vacantly into space. Artemis never looses her spirit, he shouldn't either.

"Neil?" Luna got his attention. "The cause of thy Incubus eludes me as well. I am frustrated by it; but, doubtlessly thou art assailed by one. We shall find the answer in time. Give not into hysteria."

"Yeah." Neil picked at the imaginary cat tail grass in the mud with his free hand. "Is this something alicorns have always dealt with?"

Luna's stoic façade then faltered to a subtle wince. It's come to the point she must inform him of every horrible detail she knew about the Incubus. It was just... painful. Steel yourself, Luna; Neil needs your help. "Nay, there was a time of ignorant bliss to such dangers, a time where I fell prey to my Incubus."

She tried to maintain her serene mask, but Neil could see the pain in her eyes.

Artemis whimpered. "You don't have to tell us, if you don't want to."

"Nay, forgive me, 'tis not an easy subject; regardless, thou must hear it. We understood nothing of this at the time." She breathed to calm her nerves, then told them about Nightmare Moon, her malevolent ego, a vile monster that consumed her slowly over time. It began as a tinge of jealousy towards her sister, something small, fleeting, easily dismissed. Luna felt such a feeling was utter nonsense, as she was the vanguard of the night, the one her subjects counted on to guide them through their nightmares, and defend their dreams. She even helped other creatures across the world with their worries and fears through their dreams. The world loved her; her subjects loved her. She was content, but not her dark side.

The feelings grew into a demon that hungered for something more, growing into a selfish thirsting thing that hooked into Luna, catching her completely unawares. It whispered that her subjects didn't love her enough, that they loved Celestia more. That's why they played in the sun, and slept away the moon. They would never frolic in the light of the lesser luminary for as long as the tyrant sister's sun rose to defeat it. The only way for Luna to attain the love she deserved was to drown the sun, take the throne for herself, and rule over an eternal night. What madness!

Luna tried reasoning with it, to placate, and even compromise with it. Every avenue only revealed the ego was manipulating her good will, trying to use her trust against her. Luna resisted Nightmare's manipulations at first, but her whispers grew louder to a shrill that couldn't be ignored. Realizing the danger she was in, Luna confronted the wicked thing, marshaling every mental power and clever trick she could muster in epic battles across her psyche to defeat it. Nightmare Moon was still Luna's other half; she knew her far too well for it to end easily. Like a mental chess match to the death, the struggle lingered on exhaustively for weeks.

Nightmare knew where to strike at Luna's will, what threads to pull, what things to say. With the pressure of Luna's inner struggle and the stress of her royal responsibilities, the weight of her immortal crown grew heavy. She developed a short fuse, and was often frustrated with her sister.

Luna recalled, "One night, I was late in lowering the moon after a particularly horrible engagement with Nightmare Moon during my evening meditation. My sister was angry, and lectured me on how I must take my duties more seriously. I tried to tell her what I was going through; but, neither of us understood what was happening to me. She told me to get a grip, stop taking my dreams so seriously, and grow up." The princess's ears pinned to her head in shame. "I hated her for that.

"I started believing Nightmare Moon. I was swallowed by resentment, anger, jealousy, as she twisted my love for Celestia into hatred and envy. She has it so easy! I would think as she passed by with that usual smile. How dare she demand anything of me? even if all she wanted was help greeting guests, or similar trifles." Luna closed her eyes, and swallowed dryly. "I was so tired in the dawn of my last moon, I didn't feel like arranging the constellations, despite that night was the stargazing Festival. Celestia bitterly told me my subjects would cease stargazing if I didn't check my attitude problem. Finally, seething by myself in the throne room of our old castle, I accepted Nightmare Moon's demands in a fit of rage. I became Equestria's Nightmare. Reborn a sun hating demon, Nightmare Moon almost defeated Celestia and conquered Equestria; but my sister banished the monster to the moon using the Elements of Harmony. They are relics of great magical power on this planet."

Luna was imprisoned within Nightmare as her subconscious, kind of like a form of stasis. The monster plotted her vengeance in exile for a thousand years. Luna was finally rescued in the old decayed castle by six young ponies that embody the Elements of Harmony. Although Luna suffered losing the war within, which left plenty of scars, she's spent the last few years trying to rebuild and integrate into a new world. It was far from easy.

Neil tried his best to keep up, but there were topics and details that left questions. Why was Celestia such a hard ass? Where did these Elements of Harmony come from, who made them, why did those six ponies use them but not Celestia, in fact, why didn't she save Luna the first time instead of banishing her, etc? Neil just listened on, not wanting to bloat the conversation with questions. He would find his answers in time.

Luna came closer to Neil. "I failed myself, my subjects, and the world. I've since spent my life indebted to Equestria and myself after my liberation." Reliving her decent into madness a thousand years ago reopened painful wounds that haven't quite healed. These emotions tested every part of her stoic art. She can't loose control again. Luna chanted the Code of Control to herself: Do not bury passion, but choose it. Emotion is a choice; temperance is a choice. I choose my temperament; it does not choose me. I feel my emotions; they do not feel me. Thus, I have control. Luna chose calmness, and held on to it as the negative feelings starved to nothing. Much better.

Artemis felt bad for her. "That's really sad. I'm sorry, Luna."

Luna smiled down to the caring wolf. "Thank thee, sweet Artemis."

Trepidation gripped Neil's stomach He saw in Luna's tale the machinations of his possible demise by his darker self. Yet, something else didn't add up. He asked, "Here's another thing that makes no sense: Alicorns, creatures powerfully connected to everything, suffer from this, correct?"

Luna agreed. "Connected to the magical currents of the universe, yes."

"Sure. There's just one problem: you said I'm a null. I'm neutral. I don't have magic."

"Thou art a null; but, all things have magic, even nulls. Magic is everywhere; it flows through us, binds us, gives us life. Existence itself is a byproduct of this current, and would be impossible without it. It is the breath of life, if thou wilt." Luna pointed to him with a regal forehoof. "Calling nulls neutral to magic means they evolved with their magical potential undeveloped, not nonexistent."

Neil blinked, then gestured to himself with disbelief. "You mean to tell me that I can learn magic?"

Luna replied matter of fact. "Indeed. Thou art like a well deep underground, waiting to be found and tapped. Thou wilt have a very difficult time building thy prowess from scratch, but 'tis possible."

It's just one thing after another! Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, I'm slowly turning into a monster?"

"A more monstrous version of thyself, yes."

All this left Artemis terrified. She's seen dad's monster. Is it really trying to take him like Luna's did? She placed a paw on dad's leg to comfort him. How can one defeat their own monster?

Luna tapped a hoof to her chin. "What is the nature of thy disharmony? If we find a way to bring balance back to thy mind, thou can defeat thy Incubus." Luna then proclaimed with absolute certainty, "Very well. Neil, I swore to rescue thee in our first meeting; no matter what, be it to the death, I shall help thee defeat this monster. Thou will not fail like I did."

"Yes." Artemis had her serious face on. "Whatever it takes."

"To the death?" Neil asked.

"The Incubus is a part of thee. It has power comparable to thy power. Thus, if it wished me harm, it can try to."

Neil interjected, "But, you're just a projection of your mind in mine. How can you get hurt here?"

She finished stoically, "Thou cannot kill thyself; but, thou canst harm thyself. Thou canst also harm me, in theory, anyway. I have placed myself at a dangerous level of closeness to thy mind to reach thee. Dreams under the power of an Incubus are more liken to being awake while asleep. Thus, the mind will make injuries real. Verily, the mind is a wonderful and terrible force."

That's a terrifying revelation. "You still want to help? Forget everything else, why risk your life for me?"

"I would be a liar if I said my intentions were selfless. No pony was there for me when I fell. I am giving thou what I wish I had." Her ears pinned down. "And, mayhap, I might find some solace if thou succeedest."

"Vicarious redemption?"

Nothing gets by this Human. "Yes."

Neil was beyond grateful she would go that far just to help him, and felt somewhat ashamed for mistrusting her in the beginning. If only he knew then what he knows now. That's a real constant in life, isn't it? He shrugged. "I don't know what to say."

"I do!" Artemis exclaimed, getting up then rubbing her soft wooden form on Luna's leg like a loving feline. "You are awesome! Since we're in this together, why don't you join our pack? We're already a pack of three, counting Zecora." Artemis looked to dad, her eyes asking an obvious question.

Luna pet Artemis. "Verily, ne'er have I been invited to join a timberwolf's family. I am honored."

Guess who's coming to dinner? Neil relented with a sigh. "Welcome to the family."

"Yes!" Artemis bounced in cheer. "Best. Pack. Ever! That monster won't know what hit it!"

Hit? Neil felt his cheek where Zeus punched him, then realized a possibility. "I just had an idea. Could saving Prometheus be our first step to defeating my Incubus?"

Luna thought about it. "'Tis a reasonable idea. Thy mind could be resisting the nightmare by fracturing itself into harder to possess parts."

Artemis saw where this was going, saying with excitement, "If we gather all the parts before it does-"

Neil interjected with enthusiasm, "We can starve it, then kill it!"

"Yeah!"

Luna liked the idea. "A solid plan, to be sure."

"How though?" Pacing back and forth, Neil brainstormed over his options for rescuing father from the tyrant Zeus. Clearly, Olympus had been corrupted by the Incubus, and the titan was a piece of himself he needed to retake.

Artemis tried to think of something as well.

Luna also was deep in contemplation, and bit her lip as she gazed into the still beautiful night sky. "I mentioned before how I commanded armies in grand campaigns against Nightmare Moon's holdings on my mind, moving them like pieces on a chess board as we engaged our wits. Thou faces a similar environment, and wouldst need an army to subjugate Olympus. I don't suppose thou has any lying around?"

Neil froze in place after hearing that. He turned to stare at the foul red mountain beyond the marsh. All was still ultimately his dream, at least the parts that were still his? So, his options were limited to his imagination. "An army..." Neil rubbed his stubbled chin. But, what force was crazy and skilled enough to assail Olympus that he knew of? What force of badasses could defeat a pantheon of gods empowered by his Incubus?

Neil could call on the Space Marines. His eyes gravitated to Luna and Artemis. But, the Astartes would likely try to kill them too, and then wish to grant Neil the Emperor's Mercy for aiding and abetting with Xenos filth. That won't do. There was only one other group he knew of, one with the beskar balls to invade corrupt Olympus and win. Neil sighed. Time to reopen some old wounds. "We need to go to Mandalore."

Artemis cocked her head. "Where is that, and what is it?"

"It's a planet, home to the Mandalorians, the greatest warriors in the galaxy." Neil pointed at himself. "You're looking at one... Well, I used to be, anyway." He frowned sadly.

"What happened?" She asked.

Luna's ears perked up, eager to hear this as well. Her student counting himself among such a group was truly a fascinating development.

"That's a long story." He waved it off. "I'll tell you later. Let's focus on getting to Mandalore first."

Artemis was a little disappointed, but agreed all the same.

Luna saw this subject caused Neil pain, and respected his choice. "Everypony has a painful story."

"Tell me about it." Neil ran a callused hand over his scarred face. He dreamt about Mandalore for a long time in his past, and admitted out loud, "I won't be well received when they see me. But, if any warrior I know can help, it's Mand'alor."

Luna added, "If that part of thou is yet another piece to consolidate, we must go anyway."

"Agreed." He pointed to the sky. "Mandalore is on the outer rim of the galaxy. We need a starship with a hyperdrive to get there."

Luna raised her eye brow. "Thou couldst easily travel there instantly, if thou wished, like last time."

Neil shook his head. "That's not a good idea. You don't just show up on Mandalore unannounced. That's a good way to get shot, repeatedly, with disrupters, and maybe some concussion missiles." He smirked. Just to make sure.

Luna frowned. "The longer thou tallies, the more powerful thy Incubus becomes."

"Very well." She had a point. Neil followed the same procedure that took them to Olympus, and imagined Mandalore in great detail; but, nothing happened. What? "I... I can't take us there." Neil face palmed, remembering what Zeus did to him. So, that's what happened. "Zeus said he would snuff my flame. He stole my fire, my power over my dreams."

A chill ran down Luna's spine. This initial blow by the enemy was unprecedented. "Egad, such never happened to me. My Incubus took control only after I gave in willingly." The princess bit her lip. Things were debilitating faster than she imagined, in unexpected ways. Mayhap Incubi evolve differently with each host, as due their abilities?

"We underestimated my alter ego." Neil chewed the tip of his thumb nail nervously. "I'm losing control. This looks bad."

"Now what?" Artemis wondered.

From the willow, Phobetor sighed a black mist that wafted with the dreamlike breeze, and settled over the pond. Now, the struggle begins.

The party turned and glared at the pond with concern.

Neil dreaded what other foul swamp spawn was coming next.

Artemis hoped it wasn't something nasty again.

Luna readied herself for a savage fight, thinking Neil was vulnerable in his current state.

Suddenly, a sonic boom above announced something entering the atmosphere at high speed. A starship descended and landed over the swamp grass several yards in front of the mismatched pack.

Neil immediately recognized it as a large smuggler class vessel which resembled a horseshoe crab. A loading ramp opened and from of the ship rushed a group of pirates and slavers, who quickly surrounded the pack of three.

Artemis gasped at the force of freaky things she's never seen before. "What the hell are those!"

"Trandoshan slavers." Neil scowled, "and pirates, the scum of the Galaxy."

One of the Trandoshan slavers sneered with a weapon leveled. It said something Neil didn't understand.

He raised his hands. "I don't speak lizard."

Luna narrowed her eyes at the strange hostile creatures as her horn glowed defensively.

The other slavers hissed and pointed their unique array of weapons at her. The pirates did the same in a rainbow of alien curses and words.

"Tell your pet behave." One of the pirates ordered.

"Just play along." Neil whispered to her. "This solves our ship problem." He didn't take his eyes off the alien pirate. Hmmm. That must be the captain.

She did so, thinking things have taken a curious turn.

"Good." The pirate captain held his repeating blaster at the hip, keeping it trained on Neil. "Why Mandalorian hide on backwater planet? You Mandalorian, yes?"

"I used to be."

"Close enough."

Neil scowled. "You know nothing, aruetii."

"I know credits, and Mandalorians worth much these days."

Neil deadpanned. "What?"

"You got two choices, Mando." The captain gestured with his weapon to the ship. "We do this easy," he shouldered his blaster. "or real easy."

The cold blooded slavers hissed, and the pirates merely stared on coldly, each hoping the latter would be Neil's answer.

Neil whispered to Luna and Artemis, "Just follow me and stay quiet; we don't want to piss them off just yet." He kept his hands up as he walked to board the pirate's vessel. Since his power over his dream was gone, he had to rely on wits alone for now. My alter ego has some nerve using dream figments to capture and bring me in, rather than face me himself. What an asshat.

Artemis and Luna followed silently up the loading ramp in file behind Neil.

Neil heard Luna's voice in his head.

"So, what is thy plan?"

Well, that's a neat trick. He whispered back, "We steal the ship after dealing with these thugs."

"Agreed."

Their soon to be ship was a run down rust bucket. Neil didn't know what was more surprising: that it was space worthy, or these bottom feeders were smart enough to pilot it. The scum herded their captives into a large cargo hold modified into a holding cell.

"Don't try anything, Mando." The captain set his bug eyes on Neil. "You think me stupid? I know you wish to take ship and flee. You won't get far. This is just shuttle. My real ship is above. You not the first Mando I catch, and you join the rest soon." With that, the captain closed the door, and magnetically sealed it.

"Damn it." Neil crossed his arms. "We're not taking this."

"We wait, then." Luna sat down on the cot.

Artemis lied down next to her and curled up.

Neil inspected the room closely as the ship lifted off. It was a plain holding area. Few enmities were here, a cot, some seats, a port hole to peer out into space, but nothing else. He sat down on one of the chairs across from Luna, and leaned into the back rest. "You weren't kidding when you said the Incubus uses everything you know against you."

"Yes. Everything thou art, he is the antithesis. He is the epitome of the saying, thou art thy worst enemy."

Minutes past as Neil ironed out ideas and plans for escape, then Luna broke his train of thought.

"So, how many worlds hast thy kind settled?"

Neil furrowed his brow. "Come again?"

"Humanity has gone to Earth's moon; it's only logical that a space fairing race have since ventured to distant stars and put down roots, like the planet Mandalore we are going to. How many alien species hast thou discovered? I am very curious to know."

Neil cracked up. "I'm sorry, Luna. I've done you a disservice."

She cocked her head quizzically.

"None of this is based on anything man has done in reality. All this," he gestured about the ship around them, "Those aliens are from a fictional world called Star Wars. It's a trilogy of movies from before my time."

Fictional world? Luna understood now. "Ah, I see. This is like a play."

He shrugged. "You could say that."

"So, thou counts thyself a member of a fictional warrior race?" She giggled. "Thou wert so serious about it too."

Neil clicked his tongue. "I fell in love with their way of life, and I tried to implement it into mine when I was a younger. It's kid stuff, I know, but it's important now."

"I meant no offense, good Neil." She placed a hoof to her chest. "I know all too well what it feels like to be deeply inspired by something, even if it's fictitious. There's no shame in it. Verily, 'twas good thou didst; it served thee well in the Everfree. I see now the inspiration behind thy prowess in combat."

Neil smiled. "You're cool, Luna. Has anyone told you that?"

"Cool? Nay, I am comfortable."

He laughed. "No, that's an expression."

Artemis finished for him, "It means something is interesting, awesome, or it's used to call someone a nice person!"

Luna blushed. "Oh, no pony has ever called me such before, thank thee. I think thou art cool too."

"Thanks." Neil then asked, "So, what about you? You have combat experience in real life?"

"I have fought many battles across multiple campaigns in my life."

Neil expressed real interest in that. "Any you care to share?"

She thought about it. "Well, there was my first, the Discordian War."

"Discordian?"

"Aye, this was nearly two thousand years ago."

"Two thousand years?" Neil blinked. "Zeus was right. You are immortal."

Luna nodded. "Indeed, I am."

"What's immortal mean?" Artemis asked.

"It means you never age, and live forever."

Luna added, "But, immortal does not mean invincible. Alicorns are very durable, immune to time, sickness, and we heal fast. Still, even we can die: like if we are decapitated, or suffer other such grievous injuries."

Artemis pried further. "I guess that means it's happened before?"

"Well," Luna bit her lip. "This information about Alicorns is exceedingly ancient. 'Tis regarded more as myth than fact in this age. However, these are not myths I wish to test."

"I can imagine." Neil gestured to her. "So, about the war?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat. "'Twas a dark and chaotic age that dominated the Equestrian continent. Equestria was very different from what it is now, and the one whom ruled over it was to blame: a tyrannical draconequus named Discord, a being of chaos with immense power."

"Ooooh," Artemis scooted on the cot closer to Luna. "Could he alter reality?"

"Oh yes. I've seen the beast drink chocolate rain from pink cotton candy clouds. He was always fond of that trick. I've also witnessed him take a glass of wine, then drink the glass around the wine."

Neil blinked. "He what?"

"Forsooth, I hardly believed it myself. Those were but the parlor tricks. Any reality bending absurdity was his specialty. He lived for having fun, always at another's expense. Life was nothing but a game to him, and wretched for anypony under his rule. Imagine if thou wilt, a place where it was day and night at once, where if thou stepped a few trots east it was evening, but turned west to morning, then only to suffer them switch randomly. Then, paint the ever changing landscape with living malicious trees that would grow balloons filled with glue for the sole purpose of throwing them at the hooves of any passerby. Also, count on the cotton candy clouds to rain chocolate milk and make everypony sticky when it dried. And, picture a world where thy daisy sandwich suddenly comes alive to have thou for supper! Honestly, there were far too many anomalies to count. They made the war very frustrating."

Luna then held her silver jeweled hoof high. "So, order had to be restored! With my Sister and a full force of our greatest warriors, we marched on the chaotic realm of Discordia, and fought Discord's army of ginger bread and other confectionary monstrosities to free the land."

That made Neil want ginger snaps. "That's suspiciously kind of a tyrannical god of chaos to build his army out of cookies and candy. You must've rarely went hungry."

"Actually, any pony that ate them fell asleep, and didn't wake up until Discord was defeated months later."

"Diabolical."

"Indeed. I remember well the last battle at Discordia's snow globe capital. We had broken through the dome and managed to disable the bakeries churning out reinforcements. Celestia and I assailed the chocolate castle at the center while our forces mopped up the remaining confection army in the frosted streets. Discord was a worthy foe, matching both Celestia and myself. It wasn't until we challenged Discord to a singing contest he was defeated."

Neil laughed. "No way!"

"Way, dear student!" Luna giggled. "My Sister devised that brilliant stroke. While Discord belted out an impossible tune, we took the distraction and used the elements of harmony on the draconequus, turning him to stone as he sang. Equestria was freed, and we became its rulers and protectors. A new capital was built over Discordia's capital. It was dubbed the Castle of Two Sisters." Luna pointed at Neil. "Thou fought in the ruins of that castle yesterday."

"Wow! That was a great story!" Artemis's tail wagged on the cot.

Neil agreed. "Seriously, you should write a biography, Luna."

Luna chewed on that idea. She never considered it before. "Mayhap, if I find the time."

The holding cell's door opened, and the pirate captain stood with an old model disrupter pointed at them. "Follow, Mando. Make no trouble, and I no blast."

"Story time's over." Neil rose and followed the Rodian with Luna and Artemis in tow, Trandoshan slavers and pirates were to their left and right all the while.

The hanger of the ship the shuttle landed in was a massive freighter retrofitted into a slaving ship. The place crawled with slavers and pirates. There were cages everywhere filled with fresh slaves bound for the market, and crates of goods around them as they walked on. These dirt bags had quite the operation here.

Luna said in Neil's head, "There are many of those lizard creatures here."

"Taking the ship won't be easy with just us." Then, Neil spied a ship in the far corner of the huge hangar, a familiar M22-T Krayt gunship. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, that was his spaceship he left back at home, the Ruusann! What is she doing here?

There were a few fellow Mandalorians awaiting their cells in the cages. Their armor had been stripped from them and they wore simple slave clothes. One saw Neil and tightened his face. His gruff hand gripping the alloy bars of the cage, the warrior's iron gaze met Neil's. He seemed to recognize the boy with eyes filled with frustrated shame.

Down an unkempt corridor the slavers lead them into a large machine room. A big set of blast doors slid open to an even larger room with multiple levels, the cell block. Aliens, humans, and Mandalorians alike filled the cells. Many eyes were on the three new additions walking to their cell. How were there so many Mandalorians here? There must be hundreds.

This really pissed Neil off. "These slaver scum will pay for this."

"Ponies haven't encountered slavery since the fall of King Sombra." Luna scowled at the scene around her.

Artemis just kept her head down and waited to see what dad would do next. She was completely out of her element here.

Eventually, at the end of the long cell block, the Rodian stopped and opened their cell. "Many other Mandalorian here; they no escape. You no escape. Don't try, or you get fried." He motioned with his weapon. "Inside, Mando."

"Brute." Luna hissed under her breath.

Once inside, the door slid closed and locked itself. The captain left with his scumbag entourage.

In the far corner, napping on a cot, a blond woman in slave clothes looked up. Her grey eyes saw Neil, and she smirked. "Su cuy'gar, shabiir." (So you're still alive, screw up?)

Luna didn't recognize that language, but she understood it all the same thanks to the nature of the linguistic spell she cast on Neil.

"Luka!" Neil was happy to see his old friend again. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." The Mandalorian rose and approached to stand before him.

"Who is this?" Artemis asked.

Luka saw the two odd aliens behind her old comrade. "Do these strange creatures know you, ad'ika?"

"Luna, Artemis, this is Luka. I've traveled with her and another Mandalorian in my dreams since I was younger, like twelve."

"You handled yourself well, for an ad'ika."

Luna held her hoof up. "A pleasure to meet you."

Luka stared at the appendage, then back to Luna. "You expect me to shake that?" She crossed her arms. "I don't know you."

Neil assured her, "Luna's a friend. You can trust her.

The Mandalorian cocked her eye brow. "Like I could trust you, screw up?"

"No need to make things more complicated than they are." He gestured to Artemis and the princess. "They are helping me get to Mandalore. I could really use your help too."

She stared long and hard into Neil's unflinching gaze, then sighed. Holding out her hand, she shook Luna's hoof.

Neil asked, "Is Marduk a prisoner here too?"

Luka shook her head. "Marduk's a Protector now, at Mandalore."

That was a surprise. Marduk's more of a ronin type, always craving the next mission to somewhere else. "I never imagined he would've picked something so... static? He's changed."

"Understatement of the millennium, a lot has." She gestured around, "You sure picked a messed up time to return."

"What the hell's happening?"

"Shabla, that's what. Pirates and slavers have swarmed our territory from everywhere at once, raiding and pillaging our worlds. Mand'alor has called for the clans to rally and cleanse the outer rim of this filth. Marduk joined the Protectors, and I returned to Vlemoth Port to inform my Clan. On our way to Mandalore, we were ambushed out of hyperspace by pirates before we could make our second jump. That was two days ago. We've been prisoners here since."

"All of you were captured?"

"No. Just the portion that stayed behind to ensure the rest made it back into hyperspace. All clans are under strict orders to avoid engaging the pirates before joining the fleet. Mand'alor wants to wipe them out in one strike."

Neil still couldn't believe even a fleet of these thugs could do any substantial damage. "How the hell are slavers and pirates causing this much trouble?"

Luka deadpanned. "I don't think you understand how many of them there are. It's like every scumbag that could hold a blaster and fly a ship in the Outer Rim invaded Mandalorian space at once. We've never seen anything like it since the Dral'Han."

That explains a few things, and leaves several big questions. One thing at a time. "You ready to get out of here?"

She shrugged. "Are you? The cell door is locked tight, maglocks. Only the cell master has the key." She pointed out the cell door's viewing port to the guard station across the block one level up, "that cell master. Otherwise, I'd be out of here already. There's also surveillance, at least twelve guards at all times, and four auto turrets at each ceiling corner."

"Yeah, I noticed. This is one heavily armed rust bucket."

"It seems this ship was specifically outfitted for holding Mandalorians." Luka added, "This invasion was orchestrated. The only thing these bottom feeders respect are credits. The only one who hates us with a deep enough purse for something like this-"

Neil finished, knowing the answer, "The Republic."

Luka nodded, a bitter scowl on her face. "We just need proof."

"Some things will never change." Neil asked Luna, "Can you open our cell?"

Luna's horn glowed. "I thought thou wouldst never ask."

"When you get it open, cast the shield you used when that bane thing attack us. Your mission is to keep Luka and I alive while we hit the guard station. Then, we set our vode free, take the ship, and fly home."

"'Understood." Luna poured energy into the cell doors as her horn glowed.

"What about me?" Artemis asked, her tail wagging.

"If you see any way to help, jump at it."

"Gotcha."

The delicate electronics inside the cell door sparked, and the circuits keeping the maglock engaged shorted and died. The alloy door slid open.

Luka whistled. "You brought a sorcerer?"

"Alicorn." Luna corrected.

"You can be the Queen of Naboo for all I care." Luka focused on a Trandoshan guard wielding a crude repeater just outside the door. She bolted out the cell and nabbed the lizard before it noticed the door opened, then snapped its neck with one clean motion. She held the repeater as Neil took the thing's knife.

The alarms blared.

Neil motioned for Luka to form on him. "Luna?" he called back.

Luna cast a shield, and a translucent bubble of cyan light enveloped around them.

Trandoshan guards rushed to firing positions along the cell block, then opened fire while Luna and Artemis followed the two humans.

They both watched Neil and Luka work without hesitation and with frightening precision.

The cell block erupted with howls and cries of encouragement, the aliens and Mandalorians egging the warriors on to free them.

A hail storm of bullets and blaster fire struck the ward harmlessly.

"You doing alright?" Neil asked as they advanced.

Luna barely felt it. "Foal's play."

Luka blasted the slavers firing down on them like it was a shooting gallery. The shield let her shoot, but not get shot. She grinned only like a warrior could in the face of a helpless foe. That creature had impressive powers.

Neil took out a guard that rushed into the shield with his knife. With the lizard's blaster in hand, they ascended the stairs to the guard station, both warriors taking out the rest of the guards with accurate fire. At the top, Neil and Luka focused fire on the auto turrets pelting the shield from above. Each was reduced to a smoking wreck.

They stacked up by the guard station's sliding door. Neil nodded to it. "Luna, can you do the honors?"

Moments after, Luna blasted it open with a heat ray. Neil and Luka cleared the room of the dazed guards with cold precision. Inside, Neil located the emergency release button, then punched it. All the cell doors opened.

Luka opened the station's weapons lockers, then tossed a pistol to Neil. He asked Luna and Artemis to help distribute the weapons. Over a hundred Mandalorians and aliens gathered at the foot of the station. Luna took it upon herself to gather the weapons with her magic, then lowered the mass of firepower into the crowd.

Artemis dropped a single pistol, all she could fit in her mouth. She cocked her head with slight disappointment after it all but vanished into the mass of weapons below.

Neil stood a foot to the rail from the guard station, leaned into it, and overlooked the cell block. He yelled the plan down to them, "Mhi hiibir me'sen, bal slanar yaim!" [We take the ship, and go home!]

The freed warriors roared in cheer, hyped to get some revenge on their captors.

At the blast doors back to the machine room, Neil peered through the view port. He saw a full company of lizards and pirates, and pointed right at the door was an E-Web heavy repeating blaster, because of course they have one. "E-Web," he said to Luka.

"Chakaar." Luka cursed.

"Luna," Neil called, "they have a powerful weapon on the other end of this door. I only need one shot."

"Indeed, or..." She looked into the port and narrowed an eye at what must be the weapon. "Behind me." She charged her ray, then melted through the large blast door. Once the ray penetrated, the E-Web was next in its path, turning it into slag, and the crew to ash. The power bank connected to it exploded, killing or disorienting everything within twenty yards in the large room.

Hundreds of Mandalorians howled a deafening cry as they poured through the glowing hole that was the cell block's blast door. The fractured pirate defenses crumbled in seconds, accurate blaster and mass driver fire killing anything stupid enough to fight back. Fresh waves of slavers and pirates mounted a desperate defense on the catwalks above, as the poor bastards below either kissed the floor, or ran like frightened children.

In the heat of the battle, Neil pointed to the sign that said bridge. "That's our next target."

Luka agreed. "Cut the throat."

A big Mandalorian approached. "We will rip out the heart."

Luka tossed a thermal detonator to him. "Oya, Maldus."

"Oya, vod." Maldus nodded appreciatively, then rallied the Mandalorians and aliens into fire groups and led an assault to free the other cell blocks.

Neil, Luka, Artemis, and Luna took down the corridor to the bridge. Upon arriving at the turbo lift, a huge Trandoshan with a heavy repeater blocked the door. It hissed, then leveled his weapon to erase them.

Luna raised the ward, then a Mandalorian rushed from the hall to the lizard's right, and fired his weapon at it.

Neil's party moved in to help, but the warrior yelled not to interfere.

"Is he mad?" Luna asked.

"Honor demands we obey." Luka replied as Neil silently watched with Artemis at his side.

The beast shrugged off the blaster fire and swatted the gun from the warrior's grasp. The human drew a knife and stabbed the lizard in the chest, but it grabbed the Mandalorian by the throat, and held him up. It thrusted the repeater's crude bayonet at his gut, but the warrior curled his body into a plank in the air, then wrapped his legs around the repeater. It pulled him close enough he grabbed the knife from its chest. He drove it into the big lizard's eye, then kicked the hilt until it was buried in the socket.

It let him go, and fell to the alloy floor, hissing its last breath. The Mandalorian coughed and labored to breathe as he ripped something from the beast's neck, a mythosaur pendent. "I... owed the... bastard one." He punched a key card into the console and summoned the turbo lift. "Oya." He took the heavy repeater and left to rejoin the battle.

"Whooa." Artemis gawked. "He killed that big thing with a little knife!"

Luka approved. "Kyr'amur kote." [A glorious kill]

"Such valor..." Luna, standing next to Neil, informed him, "I double approve thy source of inspiration."

"So do I." If Neil didn't know better, the princess was enjoying herself.

As they rode the turbo lifts, the sounds of combat died down, but the alarms remained blaring. The blast doors at the top were maglocked tight.

"We've got a key." Neil reached for it.

"Verily." It took a little longer to burn these durasteel doors, but Luna's ray chewed through all the same. She hasn't used this much power in a very long time, not since the Crystalan Campaign in fact. She'll have to tell Neil that story later.

"I actually meant we have the key." Neil held up the key card from the dead Trandoshan below.

Luna blushed. "Oh."

"Keys are boring." Luka shot into the smoking hole.

Then, on the other side, the captain and his crew of scumbags fired their weapons back into the hole Luna made after recovering from the blast. They nearly shat themselves when the horned creature was blocking each of their shots with some energy barrier, especially the captain, since his disrupter is supposed to ignore shields.

"Ad'ike first." Luka gestured for Neil to go.

Neil quipped, "Why do you think I'm waiting?"

"For your beskar to earn itself, apparently."

Neil scowled, then moved in with grinning Luka behind.

Every pirate and slaver next to the Rodian captain soon lied on the deck Kentucky fried by blaster fire. Only he remained. He panicked and dropped his disrupter. "M-Mando! I have code to ship. N-no kill, please? Take, yes?" He held out a holodisk by his shaking hand.

Neil slowly walked over, and took the codes. "Sure."

Luka leveled her blaster, hissing through her bared teeth, "Hut'uun." [Coward]

The captain freaked. "N-no kill! I gave code! We had deal, Mandalorian!"

"And I agreed to it." Neil scowled. "I also told you, toad face, I'm not a Mandalorian anymore; but, she is." He gestured to her with his head, a dark grin on his face. "I don't think she's into deals."

Luka blasted the Rodian into oblivion.

With the bridge fight over, Artemis's ears slumped. "I didn't get to help at all."

"It's okay, Kiddo." Neil reassured her. "Your time will come."

Luka located the comm system, then hit the button to talk. "Bridge to Maldus, come in. Over."

Moments later, a voice boomed over the static. "This is Maldus. The hanger is secure. We've taken four of six cell blocks. The kill teams to sweep the engine rooms are blocked from entering. Can you unlock the maintenance access ways from there? Over.

Neil found the console to override the emergency lock down. He did so, then reset the turret systems to target friendlies and protect hostiles. He also found, surprisingly, a host of Battle Legionnaire droids being held in reserve in the ship's depths. He gave them the same parameters, then nodded to Luka.

"They should be open, and there's a friendly BL droid contingent below. Over." She listened for a reply.

"Kill teams clear, droid assist confirmed. Cell block five secure. Will report again once the ship is cleansed. Over and out."

"Strap in, everyone." Neil sat at the helm, unlocked the systems with the holodisk, then the computer calculated the jump to hyperspace.

Luna took it upon herself to gather the bodies neatly out of the way. No sense tripping on them.

Luka took the second chair and did a systems check. "All green." A small red blinking light on the comm station lit up, indicating there was a holodisk with a record of recent transmissions inside. She pressed it.

A hologram of a Devaronian dressed in a full spiky battle suit appeared over the auto-map at the center of the bridge. It said:

There's been a change of plans. Those schutta senators and their Jedi pets are trying to stiff us in the last minute. All captains are to hold their slave stock and spoils to protect our investment. Finish rounding up any strays, then return to me before the Mandalorians regroup. Do not fail to report in, or delete this message. If anyone does, you better be dead when I find out.

Luka's face darkened, then clinched her tough hands resting on the console with fury. "First, the Republic glass our worlds like a neo-crusader purge, thousands of Mando'ade, the old, the unarmed, were put down like animals. Now, they pay raider scum to strip away what's left, sending the Jedi to ensure their cowardly hands stay clean." Luka slammed her fists on the console. "They have no honor, and will never stop until we are extinct." She ejected the holodisk and squeezed it. "Mand'alor must see this."

Neil stared out into the abyss of space from the bridge's viewing port. Is this what the Incubus wants? To take everything, to twist and rip away the world he built for himself within, like Nightmare did to Luna? It wants to use his own fantasy as a weapon to break him. It won't work.

Luna didn't fully understand what was going on, but she watched Neil's aura darken with a lingering anger. That she understood. It was something she felt a lot during her battles with Nightmare Moon. "Neil, may I ask what happened between this Republic and you Mandalorians? I am not familiar with the history of the play, Star Wars."

Luka cast a look back over her shoulder to Luna. "Only a true warrior could understand us, aruetii."

Luna stood straighter, "I shall have no trouble, then."

"Strong words." Luka raised an eye brow. Sure, this creature has impressive powers; but, without them, could she stand against even the lowliest of Mandalorians? "We shall see."

Neil gestured for Luna to come closer. "It's better if you see for yourself."

Luna did so. With a glowing horn, she touched his head to learn from his memories.

Luka wondered what Luna was doing.

Luna did her work, and released him. It was such a tragic tale, the history between Mandalore and the Republic. These Mandalorians worshiped war, and dedicated themselves to mastering its art as part of their identity. This was the cause of their destruction, and paradoxically, is their only means of salvation in this new age. She also saw where Neil had tweaked the canon regarding how Mandalore responded to the Republic's occupation of its territories after the Dral'Han. He called it his head-canon. Luna understood why he did this. Any race, fictional or not, would grow to hate another that believed itself righteous enough to cull them, simply on the potential of being a threat. There was no honor in what the Republic did. "Thou hast built for thyself a rather imaginative place in this world, good Neil."

"The Incubus wants to destroy it." He frowned bitterly.

Luna responded with conviction. "That won't happen."

"What did she do?" Luka asked.

"She read my mind, and now knows our history, and our enemies."

Luna added, "From one warrior to another, I humbly offer thee my respect." She bowed her head as only a warrior can.

It will be a while yet before Luka can return the gesture honestly; but, this Luna made a slight impression on her. She will not forget to return the bow someday. However, Luka had more pressing matters to think about: vengeance.

Neil saw Luka's grave look, then recalled a relevant passage of an ancient Mandalorian war chant. "Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a." [Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still.]

Coxed from her thoughts, Luka added the next verse. "Aruetyc talyc runi'la solus cet o'r. Motir ca'tra nau tracinya. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a." [Every last traitorous soul shall kneel. Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still. ]

Neil saw the computer finished calculating the hyperjump. "Aruetyc talyc runi'la trattok'o. Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an." [Every last traitorous soul shall fall. Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.]

Luka remarked darkly, "That saber will cut deep."

"One war at a time, Vod." Neil read from the console the time to arrival. "Next stop, Mandalore. E.T.A, one hour." He shook his head. "This slow piece of junk."

"At least it's a moving piece of junk." Artemis added, seated in the back silently all this time.

Everyone agreed with that.

Author's Notes:

Su cuy'gar, vode an!

Before we begin here, why aren't Neil's dreams full of stone age stuff, right? You'll see.

Here you go. This chapter is massive, as there is some building that was needed to establish the foundations of Luna's evolving role in Neil's life; plus, the reasoning behind the length of these dreams was discussed here. However, I do not think the other dream segments will be cut into parts again in the foreseeable future.

It seems Luna has finally found Neil, after he was so exhausted from the previous battle he couldn't sleep lightly anymore. A lot of ground is covered here, and I think Luna will play a more permanent role from now on. Finally, right? Also, we take a deeper look into Neil's past, and see his motivations as a child weren't solely focused on the stone age.

He speaks two languages, and trained himself as best a kid could in the ways of a fictional warrior race. Now, his ability to adapt in combat makes a little more sense, at least from a psychological perspective. Neil has more depth than I expected. How'd that happen?

I wonder how Mandalore will take to the information Luka brings, and how will he react to Neil's request for help invading Olympus?

I will be able to post the other half of Beskar and Fire; however, I won't be be posting another whole chapter for a while. I have a project I must devote my time to, and I won't more until it's finished. I will continue after. This one good reason why this chapter is the largest yet. I wanted to give you something substantial to tide you over for now.

Some of the words in Mando'a, the Mandalorian Language, I chose not to translate because it felt like it bloated the flow of the dialogue in some places. Here are the meanings of those words in Mando'a:

Ad'ika, means Child, little one, son/daughter of any age, is also used informally to adults, like the word Lad, or Guy in English. In Luka's case, she is calling Neil, Kid.

Ad'dike, is the plural of the above, also the plural informal to adults, like Lads, or Guys.

Aruetii, means foreigner or outsider, or traitor when refereed to another Mandalorian or ally,

Darasuum kote, means Eternal Glory.

Chakaar, means Bitch.

Shabla, means Fucked up, or Seriously screwed up, perhaps even F.U.B.A.R.

Vode, means brothers/sisters, usually used like word Countryman but more personal, 99% of Mando'a is gender neutral, the last 1% are the rare cases where distinguishing is absolutely necessary.

vod, is the singular of the above, like brother/sister.

Oya can mean many things depending on context, Let's hunt, Stay alive, be a cheer like Hoorah, or word of endearment to another, like Cheers.

Valete.

Part Twelve

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Once the hyperdrive finished charging, finally, Neil pushed a lever on the console, sending the ship blasting into hyperspace.

Glowing eyes widening in awe, Artemis watched through the Bridge's viewport as a tunnel of light enveloped the ship. "Ooh, pretty."

After sitting quietly for a while, Neil turned in his seat to Luka. "I saw the Ruusaan in the hangar."

"You just left your ship behind." She remained seated, eyes on the console, keeping track of the comm traffic in the battle still raging below deck. "Not very smart, ad'ika [Kid]."

Neil waved it off. "Things haven't been normal for a while."

"Is that such a bad thing, considering what you left behind?"

"Yes." Neil shrugged his eyes. "And no."

"Oh?" She glanced back over her shoulder to him, gray eyes locking with his brown orbs. She saw the wild in them. It pleased her.

Neil cocked his head at the uncustomary warmth in her eyes.

"There's something different about you." Luka cracked an ever so slight smile. "I like it."

"You haven't changed at all."

"I have no reason to." She answered frankly, then swiveled her seat to face him. Luka crossed a leg over the other, letting a few dirty ribbons of torn blue fabric dangle off her bare ankle at the ends of her ragged pants. The Trandoshan scum didn't even give her shoes to walk the filthy deck, not surprising from a race that enters maturity by killing their fathers then eating them.

Neil hadn't seen Luka out of her armor since Dxun when he was twelve. He noticed how the rest of her dirty slave garb draped over her in ribbons, loose fitting, with knots of torn cloth tied together to cover where posterity was compromised by the garb's miserable quality. There wasn't a bit of fat on her frame, just rugged tan skin over layers of iron muscle and sinew wrapped around weapons-grade bone, a well oiled machine, the body of a Warrior. She didn't belong in such miserable garments. Neil wondered where the pirates stashed her armor.

Her eyes smirked lightly, seeing the question on his distracted face. "They stashed my armor in the armory."

Neil realized he was staring, then averted his gaze. "I didn't say anything."

Now he's blushing, cute. "You didn't have to." She clasped her hands and rested them over her lap, also appraising Neil's... coverings. That's really a suit of chainmail, and true animal hide, hand made too. He looked displaced from a different age. Neil's grown quite a bit compared to last she saw him years ago, at least a foot taller, and his shoulders are starting to broaden pleasantly. The kid will wake up a man at this rate. Luka gestured to Neil. "Watching you fight back there reminded me of Dxun. Remember the Outpost?"

"I remember." Neil recalled his childhood dreams about the jungle moon, after he delved deep into Mandalorian lore. The more he learned, and the more parallels he drew between them and the warrior cultures of ancient men, the more enthralled he became. He never cared much for the rest of Star Wars, just the Mandalorians. They were so cool, he thought. Even without their technology, they were still resilient survivors at heart, independent, and flexible, just like Man in the Stone Age.

At eleven years old, Neil made his own suit of Mandalorian armor out of cardboard. Coloring it white with red accents, he would fly around his room with his jetpack made of large soda bottles and milk jugs. He recalled sweetly those days he pretend to crash land in the backyard of his house, losing all his technology, and relying on his training to survive, becoming a warrior caveman!

Neil smiled at the memory. "Everything started at Dxun." There he met Marduk and Luka with all the other trainees. Neil didn't invent them. Their tough as beskar Instructor happened to put them together, giving them the designation of Traat'aliit Rayshe'a, or Team Five in Basic. Neil trained with them in the consuming dark of Dxun's predator infested jungles. Upon graduating, they took on mercenary work together and went on many adventures in the Ruusaan across the galaxy. Such things constituted the imagination of Neil's early childhood, his little universe of survival, both of beskar and fire, a Warrior as a hobby, a Caveman by profession.

But, the realities of true survival, what Neil faced in the Everfree? Neil frowned as the sweetness soured. He wanted all his life to become something more, to be like a stone pillar able to hold up his own piece of the world. Neil wanted it, so he could be whatever he needed to be, and have the will the protect what little he had. Cavemen did that, and the Hunter loved them for it. Sure they had problems too, but they were free, and grew without restraint because of it.

Yet, what of little Neil? What freedom is there for someone who chose to serve a porn peddling jock supervillain out of fear?

None.

Luka noticed an unsavory shift in Neil's demeanor as his eyes went empty.

A month ago, Neil would've jumped at the chance to experience the life of a caveman, to get a taste of his stone age heritage, to triumph against nature's gauntlet, and attain that freedom he desired. Neil shook his head at such childish ambitions. "It's not freedom," he whispered to himself. "The real thing is... unimaginable." Neil rubbed his stubbled chin, reflecting back on his life up to this point, and hating what he saw.

Disregarding this Incubus nonsense, even if Luna returned him to Earth, should he make it out of the Everfree alive, Blake would still be there, who's held Neil in a death grip for years. Neil's grown so tired of fighting, of battle, and even survival. They really weren't at all like he imagined. There was no glory in it, no honor, no sense of accomplishment; only the right to live a while longer is secured in victory. They didn't change him, or set him free. He's still the same Boy, stuck in the same place no matter where he went.

Every time he tried to act tough, to believe he was, it failed, like with figment Blake or the timberwolves during his first dream just before meeting Luna, and like with Zeus.

Oh, lookie here: someone thinks they wear the pants in this dream.

That ended well.

Battle hasn't changed him, only wasted his time.

And yet, there was this part of himself which rebuked these feelings. The boy told himself that he could take care of himself before, and believed it for a time. But, these downtrodden feelings, however contradictory, are still happening. Neil asked himself why things turned out this way. How has life gone so wrong? Why did he have to sacrifice so much for so little in return?

Neil's self image twisted on itself, and the dead illusion he's lived in left him as stranded on the inside as he was in the flesh.

His dreams have failed him, and he's failed himself.

Artemis noticed with deep concern as he sunk in his seat, Wow, Dad just got real sad real quick.

Luna could almost taste the dank blue melancholy that swallowed Neil's aura.

Running a calloused hand down his face, Neil finally admitted to Luka, "I think my problem is I've been living inside my head for so long, reality has become my nightmare."

Luna watched Neil closer, identifying the instabilities within the human's psyche, and trying to establish their causality with his alter self's rebellion. Neil's aura shifted from dank blue, then warped and writhed on itself with a flurry of colors: sticky and muddled hues battled the other vibrant and light colors. A deep inner conflict rife with strong contrasting emotions has taken the human by storm. Luna figured Neil must be grappling with acceptance of something. Of what the Princess didn't know for certain. She sensed the truth would surface naturally, so she waited with the patience of a sage.

Disgusted by Neil's abrupt melancholy, Luka took another look at him to ensure she didn't miss something, like a head injury. He was filthy, with scars raking his stubbled face, and his dark matted hair nearly came to his ears. That primitive chainmail of some alien alloy reflected an iridescent blue in the bridge's artificial light. Mud caked his animal hide breeches and moccasins. The evidence of an alien environment failing to kill him stuck to his toned form like a badge of honor in Luka's eyes. It was hard to believe he still clung to doubt. Luka's eyes hardened at her crestfallen comrade, silence pervading her steely features.

Still seated behind him in the bridge, Luna got Neil's attention. "May I ask thee a personal question?"

Taking himself from his thoughts, Neil regarded the silver jeweled Princess with a shaking head. "You don't have to ask. Shoot."

"What are the aforementioned wounds between thyself and Mand'alor thou spokest of earlier?"

"I wanna know too." Artemis hopped down from the chair and sat closer to Dad on the floor to hear this.

Neil thought for a spell how best to explain the manner he's neglected his life up to now. "I let Blake Thompson happen."

Luna's ears perked up. "Blake Thompson?"

Luka muttered her summery aloud, "Hutuun, ori'jagyc, shabuir." [Coward, bully, twat.]

Artemis chimed in. "Oooh, yeah, that weirdo. He sets fires just to watch things burn."

The realization on Luna's face betrayed her familiarity of such a personality. "Ah, I see."

Neil asked Luna, "Do you have schools on this planet?"

"Yes."

"Alright." Neil explained: "A few months after Blake moved to my town and started school, he tried to sell me a hustler magazine." Upon seeing the question forming behind Luna's eyes, Neil tried to explain in a tasteful manner what that was. "A hustler is an article with nude pictures of Humans of the opposite sex, for provocative purposes."

"Nude? I've never heard of such a word." Luna tilted her head, her eyes scanning over Neil's clothing. "May I hazard a guess that nude is when thou art unclothed, as thy species art furless?"

Good guess. Luna was telling the truth when she said Alicorns had fits of insight. It also made sense she wouldn't know what being unclothed was, considering her species had no need for garments. "Yes. Nude is when humans are unclothed."

Artemis added unnecessarily, "I learned from watching Dad bathe that Humans have only small patches of fur, but are otherwise bare and pink all over, kinda like the belly of a mole I dug up once!"

Neil face palmed, and grumbled. "Artemis..."

The wolf shrugged defensively. "Whaat?" She gestured to the amused Princess to her left. "She's in our pack. It's okay."

Luka rolled her eyes at the turn of this conversation.

Neil just let it die there. "Let's get back on topic. So, I rejected to buy Blake's nude magazine. I didn't care, but he cared that I didn't. I guess not having control over me bothered him. A week later, the bastard blackmailed me by threatening Trisha. Apparently, he knew a guy that made a living helping people cheat tests. Blake somehow stole Trisha's essay for her chemistry final from the school, and had the guy counterfeit it in someone else's name. Trisha would look like she cheated the test if the school found Blake's copy, or helped someone else cheat. It would ruin her."

"Monstrous!" Luna exclaimed.

"Yes." Neil agreed. "Blake showed me the counterfeit, then said if I didn't want my girlfriend's test score to sink like the Titanic, I would enter a business partnership with him and supply the magazines he sold to my classmates." Neil shook his head solemnly, ashamed of himself. "I froze, and thoughts of fighting back rushed into my mind. But, I was horrified of what would happen to Trisha. I just let him walk over me, without even a shot fired."

Luka despised seeing Neil give in to weakness and despair. Fists gripped over her lap, she scowled bitterly into space as she listened. What is this surrender to softness? Has he not seen himself lately? Does she have to open his eyes for him?

Neil finished: "I caught Blake taking pictures of me buying the magazines for him at a store. I know he'll try to pin his business on me should the school find out about it. I was, no, I'm still trapped like a rat. Helplessness has dominated my life. I did what I was told, and kept my head down. After a while, I almost got used to it, you know, like a routine?"

Artemis really hated that Blake guy. If she ever gets her paws on him for doing that to Dad...

Luna saw now why Neil had reservations about returning home. He's made more progress being himself in the wilds of her planet, then the neighborhood of his homeworld. Running away from this problem, however, was not the answer.

Neil winced after seeing Artemis's conflicted sadness for him. He asked Luna, "Do you understand now? Mand'alor knows I'm no Mandalorian. I'm a coward."

How untrue! Luna intended to offer Neil guidance, but Luka's red swirling aura caught her attention. It looked as though the Mandalorian would explode. Oh dear.

In a dingy blue flash of tattered prison clothes, Luka shot to her feet, walked over, then smacked Neil with the palm of her hand. Tears falling from Luka's eyes as if she were the one slapped, she plucked stunned Neil from his seat at the helm and held him firmly by his shoulders upright, squeezing tightly. The sneering Warrior glared deeply into his widened eyes, the muscles of her jaw tightening wrathfully.

Artemis couldn't believe what she just did! Who the hell does this bold grabby woman think she is?! She's not even real! Intending to gnaw off her fictional ankles for that, the enraged Wolf shot to her paws, scowling murderously at Luka, growling to let Dad go.

Luka swiveled her head, casting a deathly visage down to the nosy alien. Teeth clenched, she growled back with a ferocity unbecoming of a human, or a dream.

Artemis didn't pause, feeling even more emboldened by the challenge. She wondered if Luka could put her head back on if she tore it off? Likely not.

Neil had to deescalate his daughter by gingerly waving for the wolf to sit and wait this out.

She respected dad's wish more than she hated Luka for hitting him, lucky for the grabby woman. Artemis cooled off and sat down on the durasteel deck reluctantly, butterflies racing in her wooden insides. She held her head high and just stared at the very angry dream lady with the cold focus of a T-800.

Luka regarded Neil again, practically hissing into his face, "How dare you call yourself a coward?! Do not ever say that again! Do you hear me?" She shook him. "Are you blind?! Have you lost it?! You were not a coward! You were a child. That ori'jagyc [bully] was twice your size and older. What were you supposed to do?" She almost lifted Neil off the floor, her grip tightening ever more on his shoulders, just to the edge of pain.

Sore cheeked Neil just hovered there pinned in his figment's grasp, stunned, unable to look away from those piercing, furious gray eyes. He's never seen this side of her. Where was this coming from?

"Only a fool challenges an unwinnable battle head on!" Luka insisted matter of fact, "You did the right thing." She shook her head, causing her blond bangs to sway over her reddened face. "You survived, didn't you? So did that girl thanks to your sacrifice. So what if nothing's gone the way you wanted since? Now you're lost on some backwater planet, and things want to eat you. So what? Deal with it! Stop moping. It's pathetic, and sickening. Stop acting like you're pathetic!" She shook him with every following word. "You. Are. Not. Pathetic!"

"Am I?" Neil pried his gaze from hers, and looked away, then saw Luna's hardened eyes on him. "This is one reason I hesitated with your offer: if I return home, everything will just go back to normal, because who I am here is not who I am there. I'm trapped no matter where I go."

Luna sympathized with him, but let Luka go on uninterrupted.

Luka grabbed Neil's face by the chin, forcing him to look back to her. "I've watched you act like a kid since your fall. I'm sick of it. That child died when you hit the ground." She let that sink in for a breath. "His bones lie picked clean and bleached in the forest. You are an idiot if you think you're still that kid. You woke up something else, and nothing will ever be the same again, Brother."

Then, Luna realized what Neil's working through: an acceptance of change and the reality of who he's become. She's rarely seen this happen in the flesh, let alone a dream. The Princess savored this opportunity to observe such a rarity.

"Dad." Artemis wanted to help, but Luna stayed her.

"Let thy Father have his moment, sweet one." Luna watched on, her eyes sparkling with an anticipation the wolf to her left didn't quite understand.

Luka let Neil's face go, moving to her next point with rolling eyes. "And what about Blake? He is a worm!" The passion drunk Mandalorian clenched a shaking calloused fist to her comrade. "The Everfree would've sucked his bones empty after crushing him like a bug." She jabbed a finger into the chainmail over Neil's chest. "But not you!"

Neil relaxed as he listened, his deepest feelings screaming their agreement, cheering his acknowledgement of them, finally. How could he have been so blind, so deaf to his changes since he fell into Helen's portal last month? My god, it's really been over a month already, marooned in the green alien sea.

Luka poked Neil in the chest again for emphasis. "You've survived and thrived in savagery and pain. To destroy weakness is the real purpose of battle and you have won many! You have been forged in battle and tempered by death." She held up three fingers to him. "Three monsters fought in that castle last night. You are the last one standing. You have tasted true glory, honor, and victory! Nature herself respects you, damn it!" She scowled. "Why can't you respect yourself?"

Luka dried her eyes, then narrowed them as she released Neil and crossed her arms. "This is what you've wanted, isn't it? To be a Survivor, a Hunter, a Warrior, to be in tune with your legacy? Congratulations! You've gotten your wish. Accept it!"

Neil stared off into space, then two green pinpoints illuminated in his periphery. The muscles of the Hunter's body tensed as he reflexively snapped his gaze to them, only to spy a set of green indicating lights on the power coupler in the bridge's far left corner. From a side glance, his nerves swore those were green savage eyes. Maybe she's right: things will never be the same again and he's lived a lie.

There! Luka saw it flash in his eyes: acceptance. To give him the last push, she asked, "Tell me what the wild has taught you."

Neil cursed the wild and regretted being lost in the Everfree since day one; but, in truth, the forest had helped him. The Everfree granted his one wish, to live like primitive man. They would be proud of their son, tried by fire.

The Everfree did Neil a favor... and so did Helen.

Neil answered his comrade. "Neglect kills."

Luka tilted her head, her blond bangs just covering the left eye, leaving half of her sharp features to question Neil further. "What have you done with this lesson?"

Neil thought about it for a breath. "Neglect nothing."

"Only a true warrior can neglect nothing." She smiled, not of sweetness, but understanding, an affection shared between fellow killers. "Kill your neglect, and fight for its opposite in all things." Luka placed both of her calloused hands down on her comrade's shoulders, this time gently, endearingly. "Brother, go all the way. The past is dead, but you're not. Never look back."

Never look back. He's carved a life for himself out of the great cannibal thing in the shadow of the feasting green. Survival of the fittest, might makes right, call it by any appropriate name. Neil has become strong enough to destroy monsters, because he is a monster.

If one carves out a piece of nature for themselves and guards it, they will watch as the wild itself makes war upon them to take it back. There is no rest, for the great cannibal never sleeps. It ate its own eyes to rid itself of the weakness. The beasts are its eyes, ears, its stomach, their instincts its feelings. Through them nature hears all, feels all, grows all, feeds all, eats all.

What hope does Man truly have against such a force, aside from his flesh joining the soil that maintained it?

Neil wondered if hope had any meaning in it? Ultimately, Neil managed just fine every time it failed him. He held hope that he was still on Earth; he hoped against reason rescue was coming; he hoped desperately that Luna was just a dream and not an alien sorceress that walked his mind; those aspirations, and the other hopes like them, failed in the end.

Neil realized those little illusions he'd clung to in the dark were merely phantoms he built to guide himself since the fall, as if they were a small candle being used to illuminate an abyss. Deep down he knew there was no hope, not really. Yet, he had the strength to carry on, despite inadequate light in the suffocating gloom of mere survival.

Strength, strength never failed him. It's all that mattered in the end. Strength of the mind, body, and soul carried Neil this far. Even when madness snuffed out his candle, and the dark swallowed him, Neil remained standing by his own power. He had the strength to save, raise, and protect Artemis, as she did for him without question. Their strength combined made them a force within nature not even the Terror of the Everfree could easily squash.

There is something stronger than hope out there, a strength that allows growth in spite of hopelessness, an unquenchable fire, an inner light that burns when called. One does not need candles when they are the flame!

Kill your neglect, and fight for its opposite in all things. Luka put words to what the Hunter from the Sky felt for the last week running in the brush, the roots, through the mists, and trudging the mud, fighting like a beast for life and limb in the shadow.

Luka spoke the truth: Neil the boy had died in the fall. The Kid he believed woke after falling from the clouds, who cried for his mom in the alien forest, was an illusion. Neil clung to his childlike ghost in the dark, even if it was murdered and cold. His friendship with weakness was the final comfort, the last familiar thing remaining. He refused to believe the forest took that too.

Losing his doubts terrified Neil. Doubt has been his friend. Without its weight to keep him down, would he float away into oblivion, unknown space?

Wait, what matter of insanity just crossed his mind!? That doubt had almost killed him several times. Neil's old friend has stood by, smiling down as he drowned in the green sea, waiting for him to turn blue and founder, thinking the shade would suit him well. Weakness is no friend, neither is doubt a shield. Combined they make a chain.

The true obstacle in Neil's journey wasn't Scar, or Patches, but himself. Neil's heart raced in his chest. That's it! The answer he's been looking for! Neglect had been his chain and he clasped the shackles on himself with his doubt.

The difference between modern or primitive man was not freedom as Neil believed, for all men are born free. It is the will to make that freedom mean something that separates them! Freedom is meaningless without the will to execute it, for men are slaves because they enslave themselves.

Just as Neil has enslaved himself.

The Hunter from the Sky swore to never be neglectful again, nor will he ever wait for hope to fulfill him. Hope is for the desperate, the helpless, and the meek. Candles cannot bear burdens, nor outlast an abyss. Those with the strength to make something happen are not helpless, and Neil has made many things happen, some incredible, others terrible. Killing his neglect will be his life now. Nothing will get in his way, not incubi, foul gods, or even Blake when he returns home.

Deep within the Hunter, still standing in the abyss, the Man discarded the cold candle smothered by madness, and saught instead to find the light to carry on within himself. For the first time the Man could see his path in the darkness by the light of his own Fire. A straight and narrow beam of sanity cut a path through the dark.

The path was clear and the will to walk it burned like a star. The Man took his first unhindered step towards his destiny.

Luka saw everything on Neil's face, and how it relaxed like his soul sighed. She nodded approvingly. Finally, he sees himself.

Zounds. There it is! Luna just witnessed the true rarity, the moment when someone accepts themselves! This constituted a huge step forward for Neil's rebalance, and Luna was happy for him. She remembered her moment, long, long ago, regarding its painful nostalgia like an old friend. She too had accepted herself once, until her nightmare betrayed her confidence. She swatted away those pesky distracting thoughts. Thou let thy guard down, Luna. She admonished herself for her own neglect. Thou hast indulged in the dangers of Nostalgia again. The silver jeweled Princess refocused on the moment and centered herself, for any imbalance may bring the nightmare back.

Luka's words surprised and impressed Artemis. This fictional woman's strange methods yielded good fruit? Artemis recalled the moment she dispelled her ridiculous worries after Dad killed the ambushing cockatrice. She asked Neil, "Dad?"

He looked to her.

Those eyes remained wonderful, but the tension Artemis grew accustomed to seeing around them, in them, had gone. In fact, his whole form stood relaxed in unfamiliar ways, and he practically radiated this sureness. Not even sleep compelled Dad to be so calm before, so certain, so unyielding. It was inspiring. Whatever Luka did helped Dad immensely. Because of this, the wolf forgave her for hitting him.

Artemis cleared her throat. "Remember when I stared into the river while we were on the run?"

Dad tilted his head. "Yeah. You spaced out over something, claiming it was a squirrel when I asked about it. I figured you would tell me the truth when ready."

"Yeah. I lied." Her ears pinned to her head in shame. "Actually, I blamed myself for being too weak to keep you from harm, believing every time it was my fault. If only I was stronger, I thought, you would always be safe." She grimaced, embarrassed to admit those ridiculous feelings.

Dad only smiled as she continued.

Dad accepted it without question, even this side of herself she disliked. The wolf can truly tell him anything, and it made her feel so lucky to be his daughter. Her grimace sweetened to a little wooden smile of her own. "After you saved us from the cockatrice, I found that your doubt had vanished, so did your worries. Death was nothing to you in that moment. Nothing mattered as long as I was safe. I knew then it wasn't about me, but us. If we stuck together, we were unstoppable. That was enough for me, and I haven't looked back since."

Neil's heart warmed, and he laughed. "Funny, I thought you were the stronger one." He leaned to a knee before her. "I noticed that sudden change in your eyes, then this wonderful adult came out. And I thought, Wow, if only I could do that. But, you see, I didn't realize I already had." He looked around the slaver ship's bridge like its alloy bulwark betrayed some secret he's saught. "Now I do, and I have to thank you."

She gestured to herself in disbelief with a paw. "Me?"

"More has happened to me in this month than in my entire life so far. And you were in every good thing that happened since I fell. I can't put to words how much you've helped me, and how important you are to me." Neil spoke from the deepest fathoms of his heart. "Raising you is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and it's helped me find who I am."

Artemis had to catch her breath. Dad just repeated what she said to him in the castle cellar! He said it back in his own way! If only the wolf could blush, her darkish mossy bark would turn blood red. Dad's broken the awesomeness scale, and achieved escape velocity!

Neil plucked his daughter off the floor with a big hug, which she returned in kind. "Love you forever, Kiddo."

She squeezed him tighter. "Love you forever."

Luna didn't have the words for how exquisite and heart warming that moment was. She sniffled, trying to hold back the strong tide of emotions such beauty inspired. The stoic Princess recited the code of control again, regaining her composure, if only just.

Neil let his daughter go, then moved to hug Luka. "Thank you, Sister. I guess I needed a kick in the ass."

Luka held her arms up, uncomfortably looking at the aliens, then around the ship. Hugs all around, she supposed. With no other recourse, she sighed, lightly wrapped her arms around him, and patted her brother on the back. "You can always count on my boot."

Letting go, Neil sighed a long breath of relief.

Luka asked with a smirk. "How do you feel?"

"Lighter." After soaking it up for a spell, he slapped then rubbed his hands together. "Let's get back to it. We've got a fire titan to free."

Luka regarded him with a furrowed brow. "Fire titan?"

Neil explained his situation with corrupt Olympus, and his mission to crush the dark pantheon, save the fire titan, and get his divine flame back. He needed to ask Mand'alor for help, which is why he's even on this slaver ship in the first place.

Luka listened with a mixture of disbelief, and interest. Is such a thing possible? Neil was many things, but never one to lie. It has to be true. "War with the Republic is one thing, but war against a sect of Gods? That has never been done. To achieve victory against such opponents, darasuum kote [eternal glory]." After a moment more of self deliberation, she agreed. "I can help you with that." She cautioned, "But, don't tell Mand'alor about this yet. We destroy the pirate armada first."

"Deal."

Neil stood close to the end of the helm, looking out the bridge's viewport to watch the tunnel of hyperspace speed over their ship as it cut through spacetime.

Luna approached from behind. "Neil, may I have a moment?"

"Sure." Neil leaned on the rail circling the helm to keep any crew from falling to the lower command deck.

"Quite some time has past since our last Oneiromancy lesson. I wish to give thee a quick one."

"Okay."

"Dreams are not random, everything in them happens for a reason."

Neil nodded on that one. "I think I've noticed that."

"Forsooth. Dreams are thus a statement, a literal or metaphorical dialogue between thyself and thy inner self. The meaning of that dialogue is for thou to decidest. Understand now the actions of thy figment moments ago? Luka embodies some aspect of thyself which helped thee workest through thy self deception." Her eyes and mouth curled in the smallest of smiles. "To course correct thyself is a virtuous achievement, good Neil. I'm glad to have witnessed it."

Neil had always believed dreams were like mental movies, things to enjoy while sleeping. He hadn't considered there was a serious side. What aspect of himself did Luka embody, or the Mandalorians as a whole? Sure, they were part of his childhood. That's obvious. What else could they be? Neil thought deeply on Luna's lesson. If everything here is a statement, an inner talk with himself... "Luna," he asked, "What is my Incubus trying to tell me?"

This profound question gave Luna pause, for she wondered that herself about Nightmare Moon, and still searches for the answer. Surely, there has to be one? "I know not of mine either," she answered transparently. "If thou findest thy answer, be sure to let me know, prithee?"

Neil nodded. "Deal."

"Thus ends our short lesson." Luna stared out into hyperspace from over the bridge's rail. "On a more somber note, as it stands, thou art caught in thy dream, unable to mold it as thy wills, so it goes on like a wild current. What a strange anomaly of the mind we find ourselves in. After all my years working it, the mind still finds methods to surprise me."

Neil agreed. "It's like a coma, trapped within yourself, living a second reality."

Luna nodded, still absorbing the view out the bridge stoically. "Yes." She drew some parallels based off what she knew so far. "Remember the chaotic sky thou reorganized after our first Oneiromancy session?"

Neil remembered a pink cloud shaped like a rampaging Squirrel gathering skulls for the skull throne. "Yes."

"Without control over thy skyline, it morphed and evolved of its own accord. We find this situation is similar."

"True, and it's not like I really don't have control. I do, but it's only the other part."

"Indeed. Such would imply thy Incubus is canceling out thy manipulations. Like it wishes thee to travelest a path of its own device. Frustrating, is it not?"

Neil was indeed frustrated by all this. "It wasn't this way with Nightmare Moon?"

The Princess shook her head. "Nay. I had my parts, as she possessed her's, liken to a chess game. 'Twas quite even in the beginning."

That brought some things into perspective. "Then we must take this path. I may not be able to form my dream to suit my desires, but it won't stop me." His scarred dirty face hardened. "The Everfree is worse."

Luna cast a sobering glare to the fiery Human. "Harken to me well, bold Neil, for this is a mind that made its home in the Everfree. Make not my mistake and take thyself lightly."

Neil breathed a long breath. He just wanted this distraction to be over with. His name is not Robert Paulson, and the Hunter didn't need this mentally ill shit in his life right now. He had better things to do, like waking up and going back to camp. He'd been asleep for too long as it stood. He's being neglectful and it pissed him off. His diet Tyler Durden is pissing him off.

After a moment of watching Neil lean on the rail and stew, Luna shuffled a forehoof on the floor, drawing some shapes, a circle there, lines here. This nervous tic of hers when she had something personal to say always annoyed her. Eyes cast down at the hoof, forcing it to stop, she finally spoke her peace. "I must apologize for laughing earlier upon learning this dream was based around a fictional story."

Neil just blinked at Luna for a spell, taken aback by her need to say that. "Luna, you have nothing to be sorry about."

She shook her head. "Nay, verily, I do. I failed to explain why sufficiently, and it seemed as though I was laughing at thy expense. Having never seen an alien being, I assumed all this was based in reality. I did not laugh at thee, but instead at myself. I was humored by my own disadvantage. 'Tis not a common thing when I find myself being the fool."

Neil cocked his eye brow, as he hardened his eyes. "You are many things, Princess, but never a fool."

She smiled. Her cyan eyes sparkled with the flowing light beaming through the viewport's glass as she looked back to the Human with a sly glint. "A little foolishness now and then is relished by the wisest Pony."

That sounded oddly familiar, Neil could've sworn he heard that from somewhere before. "Hmm, well, no worries. I never felt like you meant anything. In fact, I'd forgotten about it."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

Finally, the ship exited hyperspace and the planet Mandalore materialized through the viewport. A huge armada of Mandalorian vessels gathered in orbit: corvettes, frigates, battleships, cruisers, and both civilian and commercial ships retrofitted for war. Some of the formations had relics from the days of Mandalore the Ultimate, like one of the three ancient Kandosii dreadnoughts, or the two Kyramud battleships. They still bore the marks of the neo-crusaders that once crewed them. What gems those were.

"Look at all the ships." Artemis gawked.

Neil agreed. "Marvelous, isn't it?"

This dream continued to show Luna things she's never seen before, and she wondered if all humans were this imaginative. Luna took in the majesty of the alien planet below. Large arid patches dotted the surface, then mass jungles, oceans, mountain ranges, and grassy plains covered the rest. "Forsooth, Mandalore is beautiful!"

Luka stood besides Luna. "Mandalore seems like a paradise from a distance. But she's rougher than a bantha's backside and twice as ugly up close."

Luna wondered if this bantha creature resembled one of the Buffalo folk. Nevertheless, the planet's description sounded familiar. "Mandalore sounds similar to the Gryphon Kingdom."

Luka got Neil's attention, then pointed at the helm. "Check if we're broadcasting the friendly frequency." She returned to the comm station to double check the console there.

Curious Artemis asked Dad as he looked over the Helm's console, "Why is that important?"

Neil replied, "We're on an enemy vessel. If we don't want to get blasted into dust, we have to let the others know we aren't slavers."

"Oooh. Blasted like the smelly tentacle thing in the swamp? Yeah, let's not do that."

Upon the sorry excuse for a console, Neil saw they were broadcasting something. The crudeness of its mismatched instruments looked like an Ork Mekboy hobbled this together after too many fungus beers. Still, it had a blinking light that read brodcazt under it.

...

Neil deadpanned at the abomination of a word under the light, asking himself how he didn't notice it before.

Brodcazt.

Seriously?

Are these pirates good for anything except target practice? Neil told Luka, "We are sending a signal." He turned to her.

"Good." She saw a light blink on the comm station, indicating an incoming message from the fleet. Luka pressed a button.

A gravelly voice threatened over the intercom, Attention unknown vessel, this is Field Marshal Vossik Fett of the Dreadnaught Cassus. I received your friendly codes. They bought you a few extra seconds to explain your presence here. Fail to impress me and that eyesore you're flying will be disintegrated.

A burst from the lead Kandosii dreadnaught's turbolasers raked over the haul of their slaver vessel. Luna and Artemis held on to something as the rust-tub's superstructure shook, shuttered, and groaned from the glancing blow.

After their ship settled down, Field Marshal Vossik continued: That's your cue.

Unphased, Luka and Neil exchanged knowing looks.

Luka replied into the comm console, "Is this how you welcome us back after we covered your ass, Vossik?"

Sounding like he was hearing a ghost, the Field Marshal replied, Luka Awaud? We thought you for dead.

"Well, we're back from the dead with the slaver's ship."

Vossik grunted his approval. Roger that. A squadron of fighters will escort you to dock with a station. Welcome back.

Neil noticed even more Mandalorian ships exit hyperspace to meld with the fleets.

The pirates won't stand a chance.

A voice from below deck boomed through the comm system: Maldus to bridge, over.

Still at the comm station, Luka answered, "This is bridge, over."

The ship is clean. All cell blocks liberated, over.

"Casualty report? Over."

Three K.I.A., twelve wounded. All hostiles eliminated, over.

"Excellent. We've arrived at Mandalore and we're rallied back with Field Marshal Vossik. Friendlies are going to guide us to a station, so send up a team to fly this thing. Clear a space for the Ruusaan to leave the hangar. I must report to Mand'alor in person. " She glanced to Neil. "Over."

Maldus chuckled darkly. That explains why the ship nearly shook itself apart. You will have your clearing, and those pilots. Over and out.

"Let's go." Luka told Neil as she took her crude blaster from its place by the console. "Meet me in the hangar. I have to stop by the armory first. I won't be long."

Neil took Luna and Artemis to the hangar. They stood before his ship while Maldus and his men cleared the stacks of crates and piles of pirate corpses blocking its flight path. Neil appraised his old ship, and patted its hull with pride. He introduced it to Luna and Artemis. "This is the Ruusaan, meaning reliable one. This is the spaceship I mentioned when we first met, Luna. She's a MandalMotors M22-T Krayt gunship, if you wanna know. She's slightly modified with an extended power bank to feed a pair of QV-3 Disrupters in addition to the standard arsenal."

Luna liked it. "Quite impressive."

"Is it faster than this rust tub?" Artemis wondered aloud.

"She's plenty fast." Neil didn't have his wrist computer to lower the cargo bay door. No matter.

Luna eyed the vessel over several times. "I do not spy a way in."

Neil bent over and searched the landing gear of his ship. "There's only two ways in: with a wrist computer, or the panel." Neil located the hidden panel inside the port for the front landing gear. He squeezed between the gear and the hull, located the hidden panel, then input the code. The ramp hissed as it opened. Pure pazzak. He gestured to Luna. "You first?"

She appreciated the polite gesture. "Very well."

Inside the loading bay felt like a cozy cabin, as it had three cots sectioned along the walls, a small stocked kitchen, and some empty racks in addition to some nets for small cargo. Clearly, this ship was fitted to comfortably maintain a team of three during long voyages.

Neil pulled a lever on the right wall of the loading bay, and a flexible panel slid up into the ceiling next to the middle cot, exposing a large weapons cabinet filled with all manner of weapons. He took and held his prized mandalorian ripper tentatively. Good, the pirates didn't take anything. They obviously couldn't get in.

After he placed the priceless weapon back, Luna asked, "Thy relationship with the dream figment Luka runs deep and I assume the same of the Marduk figment. What was their purpose when thou created them?"

"Well, I suppose they're like the siblings I've never had; but, I didn't intentionally create them. They were just there on Dxun with the rest of the cadets. The instructor paired us together and we've been like family since."

"I see." Luna smiled. "That's sweet, good Neil."

Luka walked up the ramp behind them, her clanking boots on the alloy floor catching their attention. She stood dressed in her full suit of armor, holding the helm at her side. The faded symbol of Clan Awaud was sprayed on her right chest plate; the armor's paint had lost its luster with use and time, but it still bore the same deep purple with gray accents. Slung over her beskar paldrons was Luka's mandalorian assault rifle, an heirloom that's been in her family for generations.

Luna appreciated the exotic look of Luka's armor. Her cyan eyes settled on the jetpack. She knew of it from Neil's memories, but she wanted to see how that functioned for herself, as she found jetpacks were a truly novel technological concept.

Luka eyed Neil's primitive chainmail armor with an amused smirk before pressing a few buttons on her wrist computer. "I have something that belongs to you. It's time to ditch whatever that is you're wearing." A portion of the durasteel floor panel near the kitchen slid to the side, opening a secret compartment.

Neil saw his Mandalorian armor nestled inside the compartment with wide eyes. "You kept it?"

She gently struck his shoulder with her fist like comrades do. "You wanna talk, or suit up, Vod?"

Neil donned his armor. With the lucidity of this dream, it felt like he was actually wearing it. The weight was unreal. Was Beskar always this heavy? Considering Luna said his dreams would be more like sleeping awake until he resolved his Incubus issue, he shouldn't be surprised.

Luna appraised the beauty of Neil's suit, finding it as alien and unique as Luka's. The helm's eye piece was the same black T-visor, but with a blood red stripe down the middle of the helm and the chest plate. Both legs had one red stripe diagonal the thigh plates, and the paldrons held a solid red stripe over the top. The rest of the beskar, even the jetpack, was snow white with bare silvery metal showing in scratches and scuffs across it.

Bandoleers, utility pouches, and belts were spread meticulously across Neil's person. Every stitch of it had a purpose, nothing out of order. Two holsters were at his sides. One held a new pistol Luna didn't recognize, the other was the mandalorian ripper.

Neil donned his helm, and through his H.U.D. looked down to his gauntlets, then the rest of the armor, the targeting computer outlining him all the while. The feelings rushing through his body were a wonderful, bittersweet thing. He hasn't felt this way since his childhood. He gripped his fists. "I'm ready."

"Oh?" Luka cocked her head. "What of Mand'alor? You think showing up in desperate times has cleansed you?"

Neil coolly replied, "He would refuse a child, but not a Warrior."

He had Luka's approval. "You are ready."

Neil told Luna and Artemis to seat themselves in the hold of the Ruusaan, then went to the cockpit with Luka. He sat in the pilot seat, and Luka took her place at the comm station. The co-captain seat lied empty. That was Marduk's spot.

The ship took off and left the slave ship's rusty hangar once the massive metal doors screeched open. They flew gracefully into vacuum and down towards Mandalore. Neil relished how good it felt to have his old spaceship back, as Luka hailed the star port below in Mandalore's capital, Keldabe. Tower control accepted the request to land as vectors appeared on the ship's nav. computer

Neil followed the coordinates beyond the massive MandalMotor's tower, standing a hundred meters tall, a mythosaur skull on its side. He used it as a point of reference before landing in a space at the Keldabe star port. He left the cockpit with Luka then the ship with the others in tow. The capital was just as beautiful and bustling as always, and the surrounding Kelita river glistened in the sun light. The populace stood more militarized than last Neil remembered, as thousands of Mandalorian warriors gathered in groups spread across this side of the city alone, each bearing the sigil of their clan, all awaiting orders from their Mand'alor.

Neil ignored the looks from Mandalore's Warriors and Citizens as he walked the streets. He must have looked strange with the two odd aliens just behind. He asked Luka, "Is Mand'alor at the Oyu'baat [Universe]?"

"Yes." She turned with him down a narrow street to the old cantina, a shortcut from the usual way to Gem Cutter's street.

Artemis asked, "What's the oi-you-baat?"

Neil answered, "It's the oldest hotel and tapcaf on the planet. Mandalore's clan leaders have used it as a meeting place for thousands of years."

Down the alley they walked, until they crossed into the ancient square from Chortav Meshurkaane [Gem-Cutter's Street], where twice a week vendors and merchants would sell their wares, like gemstones, jewelry, leather goods, and other stuffs at their stalls.

Beyond the square the Oyu'baat stood in all its timelessness. Appearing like several different buildings of wood and stone were merged together to form it, the large three story structure had a sloped tiled roof. A massive wooden ridge pole jutted from both sides of the roof's eaves, while assorted windows of various designs and shapes not square dotted its exterior. Flaking plaster painted the outer wall, a sign that it needed replastering soon. Over its main entrance an aged wood sign read, Oyu'baat in Mando'a, and Universe in Galactic Basic, A.K.A English.

Near the entrance and around the hotel's perimeter, squads of supercommandos and veteran warriors gathered around and conversed, waiting on their leaders inside to finish their meeting.

One commando sitting on an old empty ale barrel sharpened an ancient curved blade over his beskar bracer. He watched Neil closely with his singular functional eye. The other was blind and white. A large burn scar over the right side of his face, jaw, and scalp betrayed some incident took the eye.

"Whoa." Artemis hovered closer to Dad, the commando's glare reminding her of Dad's look when his monster came out on the hill where the Strangle Hedges were. "That guy's intense."

Reconsidering what Luna told Neil about dreams, he recognized at once what this figment signified, Wrath. Her father replied, "Don't let him bother you. He has no warmth."

Her disquietude turned to pity for the scarred man. "Why?"

"Weapons have no need for a heart."

Luna thanked the Moon Neil still had control over his Wrath. Losing it to the nightmare's madness would've been very inconvenient.

They entered the Universe and ascended the stair case to the main hall. Constructed mostly of dark wood, the spacious hall held enough tables and booths for hundreds of patrons at a time. The booths had wooden screens that could be drawn for privacy. Two curved bars with stools for seating stood at the center of the hall, one for serving food, the other for drinks. Numerous paintings and tapestries of past events and prominent figures of Mandalorian history decorated the walls through the Universe, figures such as Canderous Ordo in addition to every Mand'alor in succession, Jaster Mereel, and even Cassus Fett could also be seen.

Many great battle scenes were also depicted by tapestry and mural alike, the Battle of Serroco, and the Battle of Duro, to name just two.

At the furthest end of the hall from the entrance, a large open log fire burned surrounded by a wide alcove. The newest decoration of the Universe was in the alcove's center, a painting of a simple palate of colors on the wall. The painting held little care for finesse. One could see the artist's anger with every brush stroke. A blackened outline of a single armored Mandalorian covered in raining ash stood amongst the embers of a smoldering Keldabe. Bold red blazes, black ash clouds, ashen gray clumps, and glowing embers fell around him. Inside the outlined figure, however, was a scene of a thousand Mandalorians gathered around; the landscape stood lush and the sky pure.

Despite the destruction of his home, this ash covered warrior remained unconquered, unbroken, alive; within one Mandalorian beat the resolve and strength of his entire race. Keldabe may burn, but the fire inside burned brighter still. Mandalore is not merely a planet. Mandalore lives within. It can never be destroyed. The Warrior can never be destroyed. Together, they are beskar.

Under the painting a single word written in Mando'a read, Redeem.

Luna took in all the rustic alien décor, finding in them an odd familiarity with a species on her homeworld. Then her sparkling cyan eyes spied the painting titled Redeem, and she subtly gasped, finding in it immediately a message from Neil's inner strength: even as his world came crashing down around him, he wouldn't fall with it. How very Griffon of him.

She mentioned to Neil after stepping closer to his right, "I cannot help but observe how akin to a Griffon in some ways thou art, good Neil, in addition to how alike Griffon culture is to these Mandalorians. I think thou wouldst get along with one."

Griffons? Neil wasn't surprised to hear Luna's planet also hosted those mythological beasts as well.

Neil noted there were Mandalorians throughout the building, sitting, standing, eating, drinking, talking, most of them officers and respected warriors. In the alcove behind the log fire, he spied Mand'alor himself seated at the largest table there. Seated with him were dozens of Clan Leaders, their Field Marshals, and even some Rally Masters, Mand'alor's war cabinet.

Suited in custom armor fit only for Mandalore's leader, Mand'alor's head swiveled to see Neil circle the fire pit. The modernized design of his armor was clearly inspired by the armor of Mand'alor the Ultimate, its unpainted silvery beskar plates shined in the comfortable lighting of the fire pit. A large red cape draped down his shoulder plates and across the bulk of the armor, stopping just above the armored shins.

The boy has finally arrived, Mand'alor thought. He's reunited with Luka Awaud, and two strange aliens accompany him. Mand'alor relaxed into the backrest of his chair, his keen deep brown eyes narrowing behind his ebony black visor, watching Neil approach with helm grasped at the side. Neil's stride, the edge in his gaze, the way he took his steps, it all betrayed a change in his spirit. Something's different about him. No, not a Boy, not anymore. Parting the crimson cape over his shoulders from underneath with his beskar arms, and resting the elbows on the chair's arm rests, Mand'alor placed his fingers together before himself in anticipation. If not a boy, then what?

The clan Leaders spied what entrapped Mand'alor's attention. Soon, all eyes in the Universe were on Neil and his party just a brisk walk from the table.

"We handle this first." Luka took out the holotape, then stayed the wolf and the Princess. "You two stay there. Neil and I will approach."

Luna acquiesced. "Very well."

"We'll be right here if you need us." Artemis reminded him.

Neil gave her a thumbs up, then approached the table with Luka.

One of the mandalorian protectors stood in their way. Drawing his deactivated vibroblade, the protector stopped Neil by placing the blade tip to his armored chest. "Me'copaani, dar'manda?" [What do you want, dar'manda?]

That word, dar'manda, it meant one who has lost his way, his heritage, soul, and identity, is out of touch with Mandalorian virtue, mandokar. That foul word cut Neil deeper than he liked. It's almost as bad as being called a traitor, almost.

Luka scowled with offence, the armored fist of her free hand clenching with anger. Neil does not deserve that insult. Luka waited to see how Neil would teach this one a lesson.

The protector payed Luka no mind, his attention locked solely to the dar'manda.

Ah, Neil recognized this one blocking his path, Disgust. There's nothing left to be disgusted about in his life, so Neil answered the living allegory coldly, "Ni copaanir at jorhaa'ir Mand'alor." [I wish to speak to Mand'alor.] Even through the mandalorian's helm, Neil felt the dirty look his Disgust must've given him for such an insolent request, considering his lack of honor as a dar'manda.

The warrior almost hissed in reply, "Nu draar, Hutuun!" [Not never, Coward!]

Hutuun, the worst insult possible, delivered with hostility and pure contempt, usually ended in blood.

Enraged, Luka almost shot the protector, but Neil stopped her hand grasping her blaster.

Neil deadpanned at his Disgust, seeing in it another example of his neglect. Grasping the protector's blade, Neil pushed it off of himself, and back into the chest of its foul owner. "You can't cut me anymore."

The protector stood still, stunned by Neil's complete indifference.

Luna smiled, cheering on the inside for the strides Neil's taken against his inner demons thus far.

Seeing enough, Mand'alor commanded the protector to stop. "Kelir durrmir kaysh." [I will allow him.]

Bitterly, but obediently, Disgust sheathed his weapon and stood aside.

Their final steps clear, Luka and Neil walked towards the table, coming to stand before Mand'alor and his large war table of every clan leader united under him.

With several protectors standing at attention to his right and left, Mand'alor looked Neil up and down, then gestured to him with a critical finger. "Ganar nayc aliik, dar'manda. Gar ijaat shuk'la." [You have no armor, dar'manda. Your honor is broken.]

His helm on the table just to his left, the leader of Clan Awaud cleared his throat and cast his hazel eyes to his leader. "Mand'alor, dar'manda mav birov ner aliit." [Mand'alor, this dar'manda freed many of my clan]

Mand'alor waved it off, wondering what compelled lost Neil to return home. Perhaps, the world killed the meekness within him and what rose from its ashes sought redemption? He replied to clan Awaud's Leader, "A kaysh mav kaysh?" [But, has he freed himself?]

The clan leaders collectively turned their attention back to Neil, now wondering the same.

Neil, still holding his helm at his side, addressed Mand'alor and his war cabinet in basic. "I have survived and done much, true, but even a coward can survive if he's clever. I have neglected too much in my life for too long. I don't want to just survive, I want to thrive. A stepping stool is not who I am."

"Mmmm." Mand'alor chewed on this appeal. Could it be true? Could his scars have changed more than his flesh? Has Neil deserted himself as a Boy, but returned home... a Warrior? Stirred by this possibility, Mand'alor gripped the arm rests of his seat with tightened armored hands and leaned forward; light from the cantina's fire pit danced over his ink black visor and silvery beskar helm. "You wish for freedom? To become what you are, not what others want you to be? You wish to live, not just breathe? To bathe in fire and walk away cold?"

Neil nodded slowly with utter agreement. "Anything else is death. Death is neglect. I neglect no longer."

A flush of excitement and pride rushed through Mand'alor's fiery veins. He saw it and now he's heard it. A wayward son of Mandalore has returned with the heart of a Warrior! "Only a true warrior neglects death." Mand'alor rose from his seat and approached to stand before the reforged one.

Luna recognized that Mand'alor saw Neil's changes with an unusual keenness. This one is sharp as a razor and deeper than the consuming black of his visor. What a powerful statement of a dream figure Mand'alor was! Luna wondered if he symbolized Neil's potential?

Mand'alor leaned over to the side to better see the two strange unannounced guests behind Neil. "And who are they?"

Neil explained one was a warrior princess from a world of sorcerers named Luna, and the other he raised from a pup, Artemis. They were his companions.

"I am an Alicorn, great Mand'alor." Luna added for context.

"Ali-corn?" Mand'alor cocked his head, never hearing of such a race before, and he made it his business to know all warrior races. He waved it off. "Very well." Neil looked as though there was more business to discuss. "I sense there is more. What do you have for me?"

Neil looked back to Luka. "Show him the holotape."

That caught Mand'alor's attention.

Luka presented the tape. "This is from the bridge of the slaver ship we captured, Mand'alor."

Taking it, he slid the disk to the other side of the table. The leader of clan Kelborn caught the tape, then fed it into a holodrive.

A holovid cast from a projector in the middle of the table. The cantina watched with growing anger as the Daveronian pirate spoke about the Republic and the Jedi funding the pirate fleet's raid on mandalorian space.

When the message ended, Mand'alor sighed. "I should've known."

The cantina stood deathly silent.

"Disgrace!" The leader of clan Fett slammed his armored fists on the table. "The Republic is bank rolling an armada of scum to destroy us! Those bloody cowards!"

The old enemy moves again. Mand'alor assured all present, "The hand that drove this outrage will feel our wrath." He reconsidered Neil. "So, you've finally cut your teeth. Good. Milk has never suited you. I accept your return, Cin Vhetin [White field], welcome back."

From what Luna gleaned after sharing with Neil's knowledge of Mandalorians, Cin Vhetin, or White Field, meant Clean Slate, or a fresh start. Neil's no longer a dar'manda, but refreshed, his identity restored, a Mandalorian again. More specifically, in a sort of self therapy, the Human forgave himself of his past sins, leaving the regrets that poisoned him against himself behind. Neil is moving forward, making his own path in life. What an amazing thing the mind is! Luna saw Artemis didn't fully understand the meaning of what transpired and explained it.

Artemis was so happy for Dad. He's finally realized how awesome he is for himself and moved on. She cheered for him.

Neil just bowed his head to Mand'alor, saying all required in the gesture. Deep in his heart he knew that some thanks are best spoken without words.

Still in the Universe, Mand'alor gestured to Neil and Luka. "Well done bringing this intelligence. You've done your people a great service." He asked the standing tech engineer, "Does the holotape contain the coordinates of its origin?"

The Tech did a diagnostic from the table's computer, and indeed found the location of where the transmission originated. Not destroying this data was very foolish. "The co-ordinates are right here, Mand'alor. But..." The Tech trailed off.

"Yes?" Mand'alor insisted.

"These co-ordinates lead to the jungle moon Dxun."

"It that so?" Mand'alor mentally tallied the implications of this news. "It's a little too close, too easy...."

"Here, here!" the leader of clan Vizsla, Sha Vizsla, agreed. "It's clearly a trap."

"Good. It saves us the trouble of hunting them down." Mand'alor turned on his boot heels, his crimson cape twisting around the bulk of his beskar armor with the momentum, and returning to rest at the shin plates.

The clan Leaders rose from their seats, as the surrounding warriors in the ancient cantina drew closer, eager for their orders.

Mand'alor addressed them, "Mandalorians, we leave to annihilate the pirate scum in one hour. Make all necessary preparations. Remember to visit your families if you haven't already. Clan leaders and their Field Marshals remain here for a moment."

Neil and Luka were about to leave with the rest of the foot soldiers, but Mand'alor stayed them, then called for one of his protectors. The armored warrior approached from the ranks standing at attention around the Universe. After a brief talk, the protector bowed to Mand'alor, then moved to stand before Neil and his party.

The warrior's armor had the markings of clan Fett along with the colors of the protectors and stood slightly taller than Luka and Neil. He took his helmet off, and Neil recognized the familiar tribal tattoos on his shaven head, and ash colored goatee. Those same yellow eyes smirked down at Neil as he said in his signature raspy, frigid voice, "When I heard a dar'manda freed a company of captured Mandalorians, and helped them take over a slave freighter, I had a feeling it was you."

Neil smiled upon seeing his teammate again. "Marduk!" Holding his arm out, a metallic clank resounded as they clasped gauntlets and forearms together in a brotherly greeting.

Marduk was also happy to see his old teammate returned. "It's been awhile, Vod [Brother]. Glad to see you're still alive; but you look like a vibroblade did a number on you. What happened?"

Neil shook his head. "If only these scars were just from a vibroblade."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime." Marduk asked Luka, "Were you the one that found him?"

"Negative." She gestured to Neil with a singular nod. "He found me." Pride for him permeated her demeanor. "Returning home would've been a real problem if not."

"That sounds about right." Marduk leaned to the side and settled his yellow eyes on these strange aliens behind Neil. "I assume you two were on the slave freighter?"

"We were with Dad the whole time!" Artemis exclaimed, then to Luna with the wooden thumb of her paw. "She helped, I just followed along."

"Thy moment shall come," Luna reminded the wolf, then considered the gruff Mandalorian. "I have heard of you from Neil. Greetings, fair Marduk." Luna placed a silver hoof to herself, then to Artemis. "I'm Princess Luna, and this is Artemis the Timberwolf."

This Luna didn't seem all that tough to Marduk, no claws, blunt hooves, that horn seems sharp at least. She has wings, yet they look frail like a bird's wings; still, her being a sorcerer could mean appearances were deceiving. Her actions in helping Luka capture the slave freighter were worthy of acclaim. She had achieved some honor with it. He replied, "I appreciate you helping my people return home, your Highness."

Artemis grinned a wide wooden toothy smile. "Don't mention it. It was fun!"

The Mandalorian liked the boldness of this plant dog creature. "Fun, eh?" This one had claws, and teeth, but her bodily composition was mostly wood, with flesh-like bark, and small moss patches grew across the sides and back of the mid regions. This creature is living kindling. In combat, she would be at an extreme disadvantage to even weak blaster fire. Surely she knows it, seeing the battle on the slaver ship first hand? Despite this, her glowing eyes held no fear, or doubt. She even considered the fight amusing. Impressive resolve. Marduk reconsidered Neil after finishing his appraisal of these aliens. "I approve of your new team, there's power, and spirit."

"And I approve of yours. You're a Protector now!" Neil asked his old comrade, "What's the story there?"

Marduk put his helmet back on, its vocalizer adding to the natural intimidation factor of his raspy tone. "There comes a time in a man's life where he must serve something greater than himself." Marduk tapped on the Protector's symbol on his helmet. "After you were gone, Luka went home to Vlemoth Port, and I felt it was my time to serve Mandalore as a whole. I left my mercenary days behind, and after proving myself I joined the Protectors." He shook his head. "It wasn't an easy transition, but I survived."

Neil wasn't surprised he managed. "You always do."

He corrected, "We always do."

Luka asked Marduk, "So, Mand'alor asked you join us?"

"Yes. He said I would be more useful to him that way. We need every team at its full potential and I agree."

Luka placed an armored hand on each shoulder of her comrades endearingly. "Traat'aliit Rayshe'a [Team Five] is back!"

"Too bad for the slavers." Marduk moved to leave the Oyu'baat. "We shouldn't waste our time here. Let's join the fleet."

Neil followed him with the others out of the ancient Universe, then lead everyone back to the Ruusaan at the spaceport.

Boarding the Ruusaan, Neil, Luka, and Marduk strapped themselves in their seats at the cockpit, Luka at the comm station, Neil in the pilot's chair, and Marduk in the co-pilot seat, just like old times.

Neil switched the engines on, then asked Marduk to his right, "What ship are we docking with?"

"The dreadnaught Cassus, she's the spearhead of our battle group."

Such irony. Neil chuckled. "Of course it is."

Marduk understood why. "I heard about your run in with Field Marshal Vossik."

"He wasn't always on the cautious side." Luka input some codes into the communications console as the ship ascended to orbit, letting the Cassus know they were coming.

"Yeah, until he was." Marduk added, "Then cautious meant shoot it just to be safe."

Neil recalled when Vossik shot something he killed three more times once, then said something to the degree, "Now it's extra dead."

"Heh!" Marduk remembered that, then humorously added, "Remember back on Dxun when we found him marooned up a tree by maalraas after cannoks ate his blaster?"

Luka laughed, "Or the time when he showed us that Boma egg he stole for breakfast at camp, saying how sneaky he was?" She rolled her eyes. "The dumbass didn't think about the egg's scent."

Neil took the Ruusaan to orbit over Mandalore. "Big Boma was pissed!"

Marduk then imitated Vossik's high pitched yelp when the massive Boma mother charged into camp, wrecking everything.

For Neil, experiencing this so vividly felt beyond satisfying. It was like everything from his past dreams with these two from childhood culminated in this moment, as though they actually were the siblings he never had, almost filling that preverbal void. It felt real enough he could reach out and touch them and they wouldn't vanish the next day, but such was impossible. Luka and Marduk only felt real.

Neil was thankful he had his helmet on, so they couldn't see him tear up. Taking a breath to center his chaotic feelings, he will have to thank the Incubus for this moment, this wonderful thing.

As Team Five reminisced about the old days in the cock pit, Luna and Artemis remained in the ship's hold/living quarters, as the cockpit was ideally suited for three passengers, not five.

Sitting on the metal floor, Artemis thought about the progression of things so far, and old feelings she thought dead resurfaced, painful, heavy feelings. She asked Luna, hoping her packmate could help, "Hey, Luna?"

Standing near a viewing port by the kitchen, Luna regarded the confiding Wolf warmly.

Artemis took a breath. "I'm not complaining. I'm having fun, and I've seen things I never would've believed." Her evergreen ears pinned down. "But, flying ships, whatever those light shooting things that blow stuff up are, huge walking lizards? I'm completely out of my element here." She held her paws up. "Look at me, I'm all paws and teeth. What can I do? I feel like I'm just along for the ride."

Luna understood her meaning. "It may seem like we are, and contributing little in doing so. But, such is simply untrue. We are guests here, ultimately. This is Neil's dream. His actions are against his Incubus. He must take the lead in its course. 'Tis our role to follow, inform, and support him as necessary, else we may interfere and worsen things. That must not happen. I know first hoof the delicate nature of attaining balance." The wise Princess stood straighter as the Ruusaan docked with the Dreadnaught Cassus. "If being along for the ride is what Neil needs, then so be it."

Artemis hadn't thought about it that way. She was used to being at the front with Dad regardless of the situation; however, if she needs to fill a more specialized role to help him tonight... The wolf puffed her chest out proudly. "Okay. I'm good at support!"

Luna smiled at the wolf's earnestness. "Indeed. We shall both do our best in the coming battle." She stared out the view port again, narrowing her cyan eyes as she watched their ship land in the venerable Kandosii dreadnaught's hangar. The Ruusaan's super structure groaned as it settled to the durasteel deck. She muttered to herself, "I sense a critical moment approaches."

Still seated on the floor, Artemis confided in Luna's words, and tried to stay focused on supporting Dad instead. She conjured a few butterflies to stare at, hoping their beauty would distract her thoughts. Wait, what? She gasped at herself. What happened to Dad didn't affect her! What a scatter brain, of course her fire remained intact! This could be the edge she needs!

Upon seeing Dad come out of the cockpit with his beskar clad comrades, she dispelled the butterflies and put a mental pin on this for later. But, how exactly can she help herself help Dad? What does Dad usually say, all things in time? Yeah, that. She decided to wait for her moment.

The Ruusaan's loading bay opened, and Neil descended the ramp into the massive dreadnaught's ancient hangar. In the gigantic ship surrounding them were thousands of Mandalorian crew members moving, sorting, storing, and cataloging crates of supplies, ammo and weapon bins, and tons of spare parts for vehicles, ships, and weapon systems.

A little over a hundred ships lied docked all throughout the hangar, a mixture of new, old, and ancient. Notably, eight aged Shaadlar troopships hung by ceiling claws above, relics from the Mandalorian Wars. Fighters and bombers of all sorts were docked in their births in rows at all sides of the hangar, newly made StarVipers, antique Davaab starfighters, several bombers of various types, even a few M-12 Kimogila heavy fighters. Those beasts caught Neil's eye.

Artemis gawked at all the weird things around her, thinking this dream just got even cooler.

As the party approached the inner works of the hangar, Mand'alor approached from behind a crate of heavy blasters. Red cape flowing with his beskar clad hands behind him as a stacking droid flew by, he said to Neil, "Cin'vhet [Whitefield], war meeting in the bridge in ten minutes. I expect you there with your team." He gestured to Luna and the wolf. "All of them."

Neil furrowed his eye brows. How did Mand'alor get up here so fast? He bowed his head all the same. "Yes, Mand'alor."

Mand'alor turned and left for the bridge.

Luka slapped Neil on his armored shoulder endearingly. "Look who's moving up in the world, Cin'vhet."

Marduk crossed his arms. "A fresh start and a new name, good for you."

Artemis cocked her wooden head, "What's wrong with his old name?"

Marduk answered, "New warrior, new name. Simple."

The wolf found it unnecessary. "I guess?"

Luka said to Luna and Artemis, "Mand'alor gave you permission to move freely about the ship. It's massive and easy to get lost, so follow us to the bridge."

Artemis asked, "Is being allowed to move something special?"

Marduk replied, "Yes. It's unusual for non Mandalorian's to be on our ships in times of war. Your actions on the Slave Freighter earned you that right. Don't abuse this privilege."

Artemis wondered what counted as abusing said privilege. She'll have to keep her wits about her. "Promise!"

"Come on." Neil lead his party through the bustling hangar towards the elevator to the bridge, which took a few twists and turns down clogged ancient hallways and corridors to find. Once the ship finished preparations, things will decongest.

Artemis still couldn't believe how big the Kandosii was. "Just how many people are there on this ship?"

"Forty thousand total," Luka said matter of fact. "Ten thousand crew, thirty thousand troops."

"Whoa." Dad was still teaching the wolf numbers, and it was hard to imagine what so many looked like as she went into the elevator with the others. Still, the sound of it alone impressed her.

The elevator ascended to the bridge with impressive speed considering it was dozens of decks up. The durasteel doors opened, and before them lied the bridge. Surrounding Neil were crew members at their stations, all monitoring the ship status and imputing commands. At the helm stood Field Marshal Vossik Fett, staring into the starry void outside the ship's viewport. He actually wore a set of ancient Neo-Crusader armor, colored gold to match his rank. The rare-as-hen's-teeth armor must've come with the ship.

In the middle of the large command deck hummed a holographic wartable. Vossik Fett's father, Tubal Fett, and the other Clan Leaders stood around it in mid conversation with Mand'alor.

Neil stood at a distance from the table with his team and listened to their discussion.

Pointing a beskar finger to a glowing nav. mark on the wartable's starmap, Clan Awaud's Leader announced, "My scouts have confirmed the authenticity of the co-ordinates. The pirate armada has indeed converged at Dxun, and they know we are coming."

Tubal Fett added, "Now we know why the Dxun Outpost has been dark since the invasion."

"Indeed." Awaud's Leader continued, "We estimate the strength of the hostile armada at several battle groups comprised of a... colorful array of ships. They've been formed into three fleets, each lead by a large warship. Scrapping them should prove entertaining."

Sha Vizsla asked, "What does the report say about the ground forces?"

He checked the data pad for the probe report. "Little is known for sure, but with the size of the fleet, the standing force is likely in the tens of thousands. Since Dxun does not accommodate large forces well, it's unlikely the slaver defenses are spread out over the moon. So, wherever their holdout is, it'll be vulnerable to bombardment once the void war is won."

Sha grinned approvingly. "Perfect."

Neil mentioned a thought. "What if Onderon is helping them?"

The Mandalorian's looked to the renewed warrior.

"Ah, Cin'vhet [Whitefield]," Mand'alor waved him forward. "Approach the table and wait."

Artemis had grown to waist height with Dad, so she could just peer over the table as Neil, Luna, Luka, and Marduk stood at the table as the Leaders continued.

"Whitefield thinks as I do." Tubal Fett then slammed his fist into his other armored hand. "Let those cowards come! It'll be all the sweeter when their broken ships join the pirates, then fire will rain on Onderon just as it did millennia ago!"

The Leader of Clan Bralor laughed. "Ha! Whether the Onderonians are helping the scum or not, they're going to lose it when they see us."

Clan Beviin's Leader relished that image. "They'll scatter like scared wamp rats."

"We must be certain they are helping the pirates first." Field Marshal Vossik Fett descended the steps down from the helm and walked to the table. "Forgive my interjection, but it would be more advantageous if they saw us as emancipators instead of invaders."

Mand'alor agreed. "If Onderon proves to be occupied by the pirates, then freeing them would put us in a better tactical position in the Outer Rim." He made his decision and told Vossik, "Inform the fleet not to fire on any Onderonian ships without a confirmation, unless they are fired upon first, of course."

The Clan Leaders agreed, some without question, others knowing better than to.

Field Marshal Vossik bowed. "Yes, Mand'alor." He moved to relay the order to the communications officer.

Clan Leader Sha Vizsla frowned. "Let's hope for the former."

The Head of Clan Lok finally spoke her peace. "Mand'alor's right. We're not here to invade planets, but to settle a score. Honor demands only that."

Vizsla called her bluff. "Don't act like it wouldn't be icing on the cake. We had Onderon once; we can have it again. You know there are few better hunting grounds in the galaxy."

Mand'alor announced, "Sha Vizsla has expressed her eagerness; Clan Vizsla will spearhead the invasion should the pirates have Onderon's support."

Sha relished that idea. "It would be our honor, Mand'alor."

Mand'alor asked, "Is there anything else?"

Silence pervaded the war cabinet.

"Very well. Now get to your battle groups. We enter hyperspace within the hour."

The Clan Leaders and their Field Marshals bowed to Mand'alor and left the bridge for their ships.

Mand'alor left the table and motioned for Neil to follow. His team just behind, Neil did so.

Mand'alor took them to the highest point at the helm. Overlooking the expansive bridge of the Kandosii Dreadnaught, he peered over the rails with Team five at his sides.

"I have a critical mission for you all." Mand'alor explained, "You are to hunt down the Sith that's manipulating the Pirate's leader, that Daveronian."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Sith, Mand'alor? Not Jedi?"

He nodded. "Think of the histories between our people and the Jedi: they take a more hands on approach with Pease Keeping, just look at Reven. Marshalling an armada of scum to strip Mandalore bare with nary a lightsaber seen, nor a demand of surrender, but to instead sow chaos in silence? No, this is not peace keeping, but guile. Sith deal in guile. I heard the holotape, but pirates don't know the difference between Sith or Jedi. All they will see is the lightsaber, then they'll assume the credits come from the Republic."

Luna nodded, muttering to herself, "A most logical conclusion."

Marduk agreed. "There's a reason he's Mand'alor."

Mand'alor turned to face Team Five, his beskar helm and ebony T-visor looked especially menacing in the bridge's antiquated lighting. His armored gauntlet rose from beneath the red cape, and he gripped it with vigor before them. "We were manipulated into war with the Republic once by the Sith. I will not let that happen again! This problem must be removed." He relaxed the armored hand then placed it on Neil's shoulder plate. "Cin'vhet, you and your team are the only ones that can accomplish this mission. You will understand why when it's finished."

Finally, something simple Neil can sink his teeth into. He recalled his orders to be certain. "Find the Sith and kill it. Do we know if he's on Dxun?"

"Yes. Your target is with the pirate's leader. I'm giving you the privilege to requisition Nali Kelborn and her Raiders for assistance."

Whatever it takes to bring this aspect of himself back home. "Consider it done."

Neil, Luka, and Marduk donned their helms, and left with Luna and Artemis in tow for the hangar. They still had time to finalize preparations for the new mission as the ship and its crew of forty thousand made ready for battle.

Luna felt a wave of clarity wash through her mind as she rode the elevator down. She saw it flash before her mind's eye, the end of this maelstrom of twisted dreaming. She saw crumbling marble structures, blazing wrecks in vacuum, and misty jungles filled with alien savage things. Then, she saw Neil's Incubus as a black figure approaching him. They both turned into quicksilver just before embracing into one being. The elevator doors slid open and her vision broke. She bit her lip. What did that mean? Was that synthesis, victory, or defeat? Sometimes, these moments of random clarity left her more mystified than before. If she finds a moment, she'll meditate on it. One thing was for certain, the end of this nightmare drew near.

Author's Notes:

Salvete, vode an!

Here it is! After much delay, I've pulled the time together and finished this intermediate part. The next chapter will be the last of this long winded dream.

On that note, I realize all this seems like an unnecessary detour from the main plot; however, I once again advise to hold on before leaving too soon. This mini saga has but one more chapter, and then you will see why things took us this way. Hopefully, the observant readers have spied the hints and glimpses of where we are going with this, more so than part Twelve alone communicated. If not, have faith. Just watch what happens.

Now, it seems like Neil made a massive personal breakthrough in this Part, deciding to stop complaining and just live his life to his standards. It's about time! Luka was the right part of himself for the job, for sure. And boy did she eviscerate his nonsense fast. Her boot can always be counted on in times of crisis, for endearing reasons, of course.

And I think Luna is beginning to notice more and more that Neil is truly able to take care of himself consistently. Not to take away from how helpful she has been, but I have to ask: if Neil didn't need her help as much as previously thought, then what purpose does her presence in Neil's nightmare serve beyond being a mere voice of reason? Who's helping who here, exactly? Hmmm?

And, it seems one hell of a fight is brewing. I hope you like burning orbits.

I am going to get started on finishing part Thirteen, which will be published soon.

That is all for now. Hope you enjoyed it.

As always, valete.

Part Thirteen

View Online

The ability of the average pirate in the field of battle would leave even the lowliest Mandalorian warrior wanting; but, to defeat thousands of them entrenched in the deepening dark of Onderon's moon? That's something else entirely.

A battle on Dxun would be a war on multiple fronts merely for the fact that the vicious predators and the moon itself want you dead. In the low pressure steam that passes for air in the alien jungle, even a simple scout camp would molder and be devoured by overgrowth in mere months. And the endless moisture wreaks havoc on anything more complex than a sharpened stick before long.

All the while, the native wildlife wait undercover in the dark. The beasts of Dxun are some of the deadliest in the galaxy, and always hungry for any sign of weakness. Hunger would be motive enough to suffer their attention during a campaign, but the invasion of Dxun will put kilometers of jungle to the vibro-sword and blaster, to bomber runs and turbo-strikes alike, bathing whole areas in hellish fire and frightening noise. The natives will scatter from their hunting spots in flight from the battle. The food chain would devolve into a bloody free for all in the moldering darkness, anything caught in the way subject to violent natural selection.

Neil had to account for all manner of frightful things in the dank frenzy: there were Maalraas, Cannoks, Bomas, Gharzr, and far, far worse in the bleak of Dxun, like the Zakkeg.

Zakkegs are living tanks on four legs with armored hide so thick it could pass for durasteel. These monsters grew up to and over four meters in length. One could wipe out even a Mandalorian squad, so the beasts are considered challenge enough that the glory and honor for killing one is considerable. One is all you'd fight too, as they are territorial and solitary predators. Word to the wise though, don't be around when it's mating season.

Just don't.

Suffice it to say, if it were any other situation, leaving the pirates to rot on that moon would be a viable tactic. Find a comfy spot in orbit, grab a snack, whip out a camera, and let Dxun have the pirate scum; even broadcast the spectacle throughout the outer-rim as a limited run show, perhaps? The problem would solve itself and you'd make a quick credit.

But such is not the mission.

Dxun has a special place in Mandalore's heart, for its spirit is as unbreakable as the culture that adopted it. The hidden outpost on its surface is of serious cultural significance. It's been maintained since before the days of Canderous Ordo, and served as something of an academy dedicated to forging hardened and capable warriors. For this place to fall into the hands of an enemy is a great insult and dishonor for all Mando'ade. The pirates must be hunted down and punished.

Honor demanded it.

So, Neil must plan his equipment choices adequately. Resupply would be most difficult in the beginning of the ground operations and his team will have to rely on whatever they can scrounge on the battlefield. With that in mind, the idea of running into a Zakkeg really nagged him. Heavy weapons are a must to hurt one, but anti-tank weapons are recommended for a killing blow, neither of which will be readily available on the field.

Well, there is no kill like overkill. He'll just bring his own.

Neil swapped his jetpack for the heavier model with the larger fuel tank and a shatter missile launcher, in addition to adding beskar tipped wrist rockets to the left gauntlet. But, even that didn't feel heavy enough. Overkill might not be enough then, maybe ultrakill?

Neil strapped an extra bandoleer of thermal detonators to himself, and squeezed one last magazine of heat sinks for his custom disrupter pistol on his ammo belt. With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders under the rather oppressive weight of his modified kit. Whitefield muttered to himself an old Mando saying, "K'atini [It's only pain]." He'll have plenty of targets to lighten his kit on in the fight.

He checked on his comrades to see how they were doing.

Luka had finished adoring her faded purple and gray armor with bandoleers and extra weapons. She sat on her bunk in the back corner of the Ruusaan's hold, fixated on maintaining her ancestral assault rifle, a family heirloom that's outlived the Old Republic and her Neo-Crusader lineage. Inspecting its ancient components with her wrist computer, she replaced a burnt out emitter, then ran a test and smiled in satisfaction as the diagnostic showed all green. The emitter she retrofitted from an A-280C blaster worked like a charm. Since the 24/7 Mandalorian assault rifle parts store closed down thousands of years ago, modern mil-spec blaster parts must be repurposed to keep ancient designs like this in the gene pool. Luka reassembled the weapon with machinelike ease and cleaned with a felt cloth her family crest on the lower receiver.

Meanwhile, Marduk stood over the dining table, giving his NT-242 heavy longblaster a thrice over, because that's just who he was. He triple checked the alignment of its emitter and custom barrel, which was a lengthy process as this blaster could also fire a disrupter shot. In Marduk's own words, both modes had to be double checked at least. He purged the macroscope twice to eliminate any moisture in its ocular cogitator. Too much moisture and he'll get parallax errors, which could cause the zero to wander once the blaster heated up.

Luka then asked Marduk, "How much trouble do you think Master Jareel's giving the pirates?"

He answered, not looking away from his wrist computer, "He's likely a campfire story by now."

Luka thought for a moment. "I don't recall seeing him ever step foot off that moon."

"Jareel Bralor isn't on Dxun; he is Dxun."

Luka huffed as she slung the assault rifle to herself. "Hopefully he'll leave enough for the rest of us."

Rally Master Jareel Bralor, now that's a name Neil hadn't heard in years. That Mandalorian was born and raised on Dxun, and all manner of rumors spread amongst the cadets about Master Jareel: like he could sneak up on a Maalraas, and once he tamed a Drexl by himself when living with the beast riders.

Jareel seemed like someone who killed his neglect. Luka's words to Neil on the bridge of the slave freighter echoed still in his mind, Kill your neglect.

Luna said dreams are a manifestation of the inner self, so everything wrong in this dream must reflect those things about himself he's neglected in life. If Neil wished to improve himself without, he needed to kill his flaws within. Maybe the Sith Mand'alor marked for death is one of those flaws being used by the Incubus? Master Jareel would scold Neil for allowing his flaws to be used against him. Would putting a hole between the Sith's eyes actually help him become a better person in reality?

Is that how it worked?

Neil was eager to find out. In fact, maybe he shouldn't be so hasty to wake up? Why not stay a while longer and fix a few more undesirable things about himself before going back to the forest? It's not like he couldn't use the extra rest. Besides, this little Star Wars detour is actually kinda fun.

The Hunter hadn't taken a real break from the struggles and terrors of the Everfree since he fell. He could use a vacation.

Why not see this as a golden opportunity to recover and unwind instead of some pointless distraction? Yeah, Neil should dream longer if it meant crushing more of his flaws, healing his wounds, and just have some R&R.

In the waking world he is Neil, but tonight he'll be Cin'vhet, Whitefield, a slate clean as virgin snow, a Mandalorian remade with a Sith to kill.

This is the way.

Cin'vhet called to his vode to join him by the holotable in the corner of the Ruusaan's cargo bay, "If you're all set, let's go over the plan one last time."

Meanwhile, outside the Ruusaan, Luna took a moment for herself and paced around on the cold durasteel deck by some crates. She watched her hoof steps deep in meditation over deciphering the meaning of her vision in the elevator.

Artemis stood by, cocking her head curiously at the dark blue Princess carefully pacing circles. "Whacha doin', Moonbutt?"

Luna giggled at the bold petname the timberwolf gave her. Luna ceased pacing and regarded her honest packmate. "I am practicing wandering meditation, good Artemis. I find the best ideas come from walking. Care to join me and learn the method?"

Artemis looked around the bustling hangar full of workers doing neat worker stuff and big cool machines doing big cool machine stuff. "With all the unique smells and sights here?" She shook her plantlike head. "Nuh uh. You can show me later. I'm going to explore!"

"Very well. Have fun." Luna returned to her wandering meditation.

"I'll try." Artemis walked off, following her nose. Something smelled rather strange somewhere on the other side of the hanger, under the creepy spider ships hanging from the ceiling. It smelled like really old oil over there, similar to the lamp oil in the castle heap's dank cellar.

Artemis explored deeper through the busy hangar, dodging both Mandalorian workers and some hovering crates moving by themselves. There were even people made of metal that helped around. They smelled like fresh oil and some of that stuff at the bottoms of Dad's old ruined shoes.

What did he call it?

Rubber! That's it. They smelled like rubber, too.

The metal people also had yellow glowing eyes. They moved so stiff as they worked, the wolf was impressed they didn't simply fall over. She waved at one after it noticed her. Tilting its shiny boxy head, the metal person raised a claw with three flat fingers and waved back with slow creaking joints, then went back to work.

Artemis giggled at how weird and awkward those guys were, yet still they did their jobs well.

Effective awkwardness identified.

The old oil smell was farther into the hangar. Jeez, this place just kept going! Artemis left the metal guys to investigate more.

Finally, after jumping over some warm barrel things, she found the source of the smell. Her glowing eyes widened at a line of dozens of huge metal crawdad looking things. Wow, they were as big as Patches! Each had two massive metal claws with metal rods coming out of their faces. Artemis drew closer to get a good smell of one.

"Hey!" A rather angry voice yelled from under one of the metal crawdad beasts. A human head popped out from beneath it. "Back away from the Basilisk, aruetii! [outsider]"

The wolf backed away.

The Mandalorian huffed, irritated that someone, rather something, interrupted her maintenance. Pulling herself from under the Basilisk, she confronted the outsider. Grease stained arms crossed, and oil soaked red hair tied into a tight bun, the warrior in dirty clothes stared down to Artemis with hardened unamused eyes. She warned the wolf, waving a hydrospanner at her, "If that war droid weren't on standby, you would've been squashed flat. Only a rider can get so close to a basilisk war droid."

Squashed? Like what Patches did to those timberwolves during the battle at the castle gate? Yikes. Artemis rubbed her head with a paw self consciously. "Wow. Thanks, lady."

"Yeah, well, you have no business here, you... you..." she raised her eye brow to the strange plantlike creature that's invaded her side of the hangar. The warrior's seen many aliens in her day, but never one like this. "What are you anyway?"

The wolf held her paw up. "I'm Artemis, a timberwolf. I'm here with my Dad and my packmate, Luna."

"Your Father, you say? Huh." This odd alien's ability to wander freely meant she had some honor at least, so the Mandalorian shook the paw. "Uh, huh. Who's your Father?"

"Neil."

Her hard features softened. "Cin'vhet?"

Artemis nodded. "You know him?"

"We trained together on Dxun as kids." It had been years since they last spoke; a lot has happened for everyone. While it was good to hear her old vod was still alive and well, she frowned while imagining how this alien can be Cin'vhet's child. How is such a relationship biologically possible, let alone ethical? The warrior just assumed this one was adopted and washed her hands of it.

Artemis pointed at one of the massive armored constructs. "What are these, a basilisk you said?"

"The deadliest weapon a single warrior can use in Mandalore's arsenal."

Artemis grinned a wooden toothy grin, always relishing the chance to learn something cool. "How do you use them?"

"They are ridden like beasts of war, but only Mandalore's finest warriors can ride them into battle. The basilisk war droid becomes an extension of the rider in combat. Together, they annihilate the enemy."

"Ooooh! What makes them so deadly?"

The Mandalorian huffed, but indulged the alien and checked the basilisk's weapons off with the fingers of her free hand. "Shockwave generators, the rods on their heads? Those can slice through the hull of a capital ship given enough time. There's also the quad torso mounted laser cannons, each strong enough to penetrate repulser tank plating at 800 meters. They can also be fitted with pulse wave cannons, and shatter missile launchers. Add to that their speed and thick beskar armor and you've got the epitome of weapons technology." She cocked her head at the plant wolf. "Does that satisfy you?"

Artemis reconsidered the metal beasts with renewed awe. "Wow. It sure does! They sound unstoppable!"

"They aren't invincible. If only." She shrugged. "With a great rider it's close enough. Even the Jedi feared these beasts of war."

Artemis wondered, "What's a Jedi?"

The warrior scoffed. "Stuck up space sorcerers with a virtue complex."

"Oh, okay." Artemis could hardly believe someone would actually ride one of these machines. "Do you ride these?"

"Yes. This is the drop bay for Kelborn's Raiders. I'm Rally Master Nali Kelborn," She finally introduced herself, and gestured behind herself to the basilisk she just worked on. "And that's my war droid, Parjii"

The wolf looked again at the twenty plus basilisks, thinking all those things flying at you must be terrifying... like twenty Patches with laser cannons hunting you down.

Suddenly, a voice from the overcoms boomed in the hangar.

Now hear this: Battle group Cassus is entering hyperspace. Combat status yellow is in effect. Crew, prepare battle stations. All forces follow pre-battle procedures. That is all.

Nali let out a sigh. "Sorry kid, fun's over." She shooed Artemis away. "I said you can't be here, so leave. Now."

Artemis reluctantly did as the lady said and moved to a safer distance away.

Nali got back to work once the alien was out of sight.

Artemis found a nice and safe spot of a few yards away hidden under a gap in some large crates. She watched as twenty armored Mandalorians gathered. Soon, Nali rejoined them freshly showered and changed into her red armor. It was hard to hear what she was saying with the noise of a working hangar, especially with the crane systems moving the ships above and arranging them in rows on the metal floor.

The warriors ascended the drop platforms holding the war droids, and seated themselves in the saddles, which were cushions set deep into the droid's midsection. Only the upper torso of the warrior was visible. They turned on their basilisks, each groaned and grunted with a synthesized animalistic suggestion as their riders checked their systems.

As Artemis watched them work, a devilish idea struck her, a cunning idea, a devilishly cunning idea: she made a butterfly back on the Ruusaan. If she can make butterflies, then why can't she make a basilisk for Dad? In fact, why can't she be the basilisk? Trading her timberwolf body for that of a metal raging beast of death would certainly even the odds, then she could fight with Dad again.

Artemis rubbed her wooden paws together with a dark chuckle. This was exactly what she's been waiting for!

Secret option two discovered.

The wolf excitedly left the shadow of the crates to find a darker corner of the hangar where no one would see her. Finding such a spot with suitable space and privacy, in a corner besides an old tarped ship no one had interest in, the wolf sat down on the durasteel floor and closed her eyes.

She put Luna's dream training to the test, imagining her body turning into the massive beskar plated basilisk: it's four laser cannons, those shatter missiles, and its funny looking shockwave generators on its face, its big metal fins, everything she saw the real basilisks had. She opened her eyes after a few moments of feeling no different.

Damn. Her disappointment was palpable. Artemis turned to go back to the Ruusaan, only to knock into the dusty tarped ship with a massive metallic thud.

Huh?

The ship tumbled over, landing on its side with a jaw clenching racket which echoed throughout the hangar. Artemis seized in place, wincing at the high pitched crash of metal as well as a war droid could.

Wait.

Artemis the war droid lifted her left beskar claw and stared at it with awe. She has blades for paws! It worked!

Secret option two confirmed!

Artemis the basilisk cheered, "I did it!" Whoa, her synthesized voice sounded funny, kinda echoy, mixed with something else she couldn't describe.

"Who's there?" A Mandalorian sneered as he approached from behind a big missile container to the right.

"Oh, shit-" Artemis quickly hid under the fallen ship's tarp, making sure that her metal tail was under as well. Hopefully it would buy her enough time to transform back.

"What in blazes was that?" The crew member eyed around for the source of the odd noises with a cold caution, then chuckled darkly after the huge bump under the tarp moved. Grabbing the edge of the tarp, the crew member yanked it open with his blaster drawn. "Gotcha-!" The Mandalorian beheld nothing under it but the fallen ship's jutting landing gear. Seeing the ship's condition, he face palmed. "Mand'alor's gunna space me for this."

Artemis wormed her way through the gaps between the toppled ship and the deck, then crawled away on her soft wooden belly behind a stack of crates, ducking out of sight.

She got away.

Phew, that was close.

Having her fill of adventure now, Artemis made the lengthy trek through the dreadnaught's massive hanger back to the Ruusaan with a new trick up her mossy sleeve.

In the mean time, Luna continued meditating while taking slow, purposeful steps around the Ruusaan. The Lunar Princess deeply contemplated the possible truths to the vision before. The message seemed clear enough, but there was something missing, like this puzzle was one corner piece away from completion.

Seldom have visions troubled Luna to this extent. Though, understanding Neil's alien mind and thoughts have proven an uphill battle from the start. Certainly, verbal communication posed no trouble. Comprehensive spells allowed a verbal connection with the human at an acceptable level, but this comprehensive magic has limitations. Such spells are not a translation of words, but a passive connection between separate minds engaging in active dialogue. In the laypony, both are able to share in the other's intentions in conversation, thus meaning is gleaned regardless of language barriers.

You say apple; the alien says thorp. The spell lets you know thorp means apple because that's the ailen's intention for the sound it just made. It's foals play, really.

But this connection is only skin deep, as it does little for understanding thought patterns and dreaming, or dream helping in her case. Thus Luna's oneiromancy mastery has been essential in interpreting Neil's thoughts into something she could understand.

The alien says thorp and one understands that sound meant apple by the intention; but, to understand the exitance of said apple from the alien's perspective, to know an apple, and how the idea of an apple takes form in a human mind? Such is a whole other issue entirely. The strain of this mental circus she'd been managing was pushing her skills to their limit and giving her a royal headache!

Her painstaking efforts have yielded fruit, however: she's reconciled enough of Neil's thoughts into something of an understandable model. While not perfect by any means, the Princess felt confident she gleaned enough to help the human correct his dream patterns to something healthier.

The paths they took to meet at this point tonight couldn't have been more different. To think how close Neil came to never dreaming again in his exodus from the manticore and the timberwolves... he's ascended a truly hostile mountain over the last month. He deserves good dreams, by the moon! That reminded Luna of something a wise griffon told her long ago:

There is always more than one path up the mountain.

More than one path, hmmm? Luna just had an idea: perhaps a new perspective might help her? Luna ceased pacing in the hanger and left Neil's dream, taking herself into the abstract neutrality of the dreamscape itself. Below her lied Neil's presence here, which to the mind's eye resembled a bubble floating in a void of possibilities.

Now she reconsidered her vision. Luna focused on it, seeing it change before her mental eye.

The crumbling marble structures of Olympus became mossy, damp trees in a marshland, some standing, some fallen. Luna now stood in a swamp and could practically taste the familiar muggy air. The Princess considered the burning shipwrecks in Dxun's orbit above her, and they morphed into the starry night sky. Wait, she knew that sky! Zounds, it's the nightly canvas she prepared just before attending to her duties tonight!

Before Luna sprawled the shore of the nearby pond where the drain pipe of her old castle went to daylight. She knew it well enough as she chose this spot for that pipe during the castle construction all those ages ago. This is the swamp where she met Neil and Artemis at the beginning of the dream.

Narrowing her regal eyes, Luna saw Neil and the other figure she thought was his Incubus standing on the shore, but instead of turning to mercury and merging like before, the Incubus morphed into Artemis! Both began choking like it was hard to breathe after another serpent emerged from the tree behind them. It breathed out a chocolate smelling poisonous gas which blanketed the area and under her hooves.

Neil's eyes swirled, hypnotized by the poison. He approached and grabbed her suddenly. Snakes lunged from under his skin and bit into her fur.

Forsooth, the intrigue has been doubled! These vile serpents mean to tell her that something in Neil's dream not only affect him but her as well in some mysterious manner. But what could do such a... Luna froze after the smell of the chocolate gas jogged her dusted memory.

The Princess gasped through a stomach turning revelation. This is not an affliction of Neil's mind! There's something in the moor doing all this! Luna feared it could be something she believed had been exterminated long ago, something she had personally exterminated.

Luna knew the risks of bringing her own consciousness into Neil's dreams, instead of her usual method of merely presiding over a dream safely. Despite this, there was no anticipating this! The fact this malady targeted her through Neil is yet more evidence for the thing in the moor that should not be.

Unless... no, he wouldn't dare. Discord is reformed!

...

By the moon, Luna must go to the moor in the flesh and see this chocolate serpent for herself, immediately!

As she was leaving the dreamscape to do so, just in the corner of her astral eye the Princess saw an elegant shadow warp from Neil's dream, manifesting itself into the abstract of the dreamscape. It swirled around her with sharp sinister eyes glowing white, a terrible silhouette Luna hadn't seen since the Elements of Harmony freed her from its dark power.

Nightmare Moon?

Luna stoically narrowed her cyan eyes at the shadow of Nightmare Moon chasing her from Neil's dream below. It bared its fangs at the Princess with ghostly wings poised aggressively, its eyes burning hot.

Nightmare locked gazes with Luna, announcing thunderously, "Neil's dream is rebelling. He suffers from an Incubus! You must see the signs!"

"Thou art not Nightmare Moon." Luna calmly shook her regal head at the shadow.

It growled. "What are you talking about, fool? Neil's Incubus will destroy him if you fail to listen to me! Return to his dream this instant! We'll lose him if we don't!"

This thing has lost its suggestive powers here in the abstractness, unfortunately for it. "This delusion, thou thinkest me vulnerable to it out here? 'Tis a move of pure desperation." Luna then asked coldly, "To aggressively trick and manipulate me in a very personal manner, the only manner in fact which could have worked..." She narrowed her regal eyes sharply at this affliction, "Thou hast overplayed thy hoof! I command thee reveal thy true self!"

It silenced itself.

"Very well. No need to answer." Luna focused on the imposter with her clairvoyant eye. "Be still."

The imposter groaned in a complete change of character. "Oh, fudge! I almost had you for a second!" It threw its hooves out in defeat. "Oh well, pulling your strings was fun for a time." Its white glowing eyes then rolled with a rainbow of chaotic colors once Luna's senses penetrated its façade.

It shrugged. "You and your sister are both boredom incarnate, you know that? You interfere at my every step! Nothing is sacred! First, you waltz into my Kingdom, begin smashing my cookie bakeries, then you start..." It shuddered, "Organizing things... blegh! It's been absolutely dreadful!" It pointed a vengeful hoof at the shocked Princess. "Now you're trying to deny my new subjects their chance at eternal happiness? Unforgivable!"

Luna blinked, stunned as she watched the false nightmare moon form into that asymmetrical being of chaos himself, but waring the crown she hadn't seen since the Discordian War.

King Discord was none too pleased with Luna. "Being a spoilsport is a capital offence in Discordia! You will be thrown in the bog of eternal fondue come my victory! I'd like to see you and Princess Sunbutt organize anything as chocolate statues!"

Luna's gut sank. It's Pandemonium! The flowering apocalypse has returned! It has Neil and Artemis under its lethal spell!

"But I suppose all is fair in war and chaos." King Discord stated coolly, "Oh don't look so surprised to see me, Princess! You were non the wiser from the beginning of the Human's dream. All I had to do was watch and nudge here and there as you did all the work for me. So much for all your wisdom." King Discord smiled arrogantly. "Your insecurities inspired much of this story I have constructed from the background. This incubus plot has been very helpful in building a spring board for the perfect world for my new subject, this Human. What an amazing creature he is! It's been so much fun making a world to fit his alien character. He will make an exotic addition to my Kingdom, to all of New Discordia."

Gritting her teeth, Luna replied angrily, "There is no longer a Discordia, nor ever will there be a new one, despotic wretch!" Powerful, raw emotions battered at Luna's calm from within her once stoic visage: bewilderment, anger, humiliation, disgust, panic, dread, etc.

I've practiced for this. Luna reminded herself of the perils of emotional incontinence. I've trained for this. Luna had to use all her training since Twilight Sparkle and the other Elements of Harmony restored her from Nightmare Moon. It must pay off now. She cannot lose control. Never again.

Staring cold mute daggers at Discord's smug face, Luna's eyes turned serpentine as her breathing quickened, fighting to single out in the storm of weapon's grade emotions whirling inside, just one will do. The Art of Control says she can let out a single feeling under these circumstances, as long as it's chosen in a way so the others will starve.

She could let her wrath cut like a sword, swift and clean. No. She needed a hammer. Luna wanted to smash something.

The Princess chose anger. Luna's face twisted into a fiery scowl as she yelled in Discord's smug face, "I destroyed thee!" She pointed a furious silvered hoof at Discordia's ancient King. "With armies I scoured high and low to find and sunder every root, to harmonize every field, and burn every seed on the continent! I hunted thy creation to extinction!"

"But you missed this one!" Discord stuck his forked tongue at her while blowing a raspberry... that actually flung squishy raspberries at the Princess instead of spit. "You and Celestia can't have my throne! I'm a great King and my subjects are happy! Everyone's happy and has fun in Discordia! I even outlawed sadness, and anyone can be anything they want! Even the trees laugh and tell jokes here! Are your trees as happy as mine wherever you squares invaded from?"

Luna just glared at him.

"Thought not! What does a Princess from a land with no happy trees know about happiness? You came here all like, Oh, the candy clouds are migrating! Their chocolate rain is ruining our harvests! Keep your clouds under control! And I, being the gracious host that I am, offered you my finest candy corn crops that love chocolate rain!"

"They were invasive!" Luna yelled back, "And ponies can't only eat candy!"

Discord scoffed. "Of course they can! You just haven't tried hard enough! And it's not my fault that candy corn is a social butterfly! They're a very friendly crop! I should've known then you'd never understand!" He pointed at her acquisitively, "No, the truth is everyone has fun here, except you! There were no problems in Discordia until you Alicorns arrived, 'cause you're both squares! Only squares think they know better for others!

"Therefore, to defend my kingdom now and in the future, I decree that squares are hence forth banned from New Discordia!" He shewed her. "Shew! Leave now and I'll consider our war a draw! Just go somewhere else, anywhere else! Rule the Bugbears for all I care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a climatic battle to organize for my new subject." He giggled from excited anticipation then flew back into Neil's dream, leaving the furious Lunar Princess behind with a face covered in red sticky jam.

Wisps of steam wafted from her regal ears pinned down to her jeweled head. Were the fur on her coat not a fine shade of night blue, Luna would've been red as a wrathful tomato. This sheer level of nonsense was outrageous! The sweet berry mess stuck to her face sizzled and popped, then vaporized from the heat of her emotion.

The other feelings had smoldered to ash by now.

So, there was never an incubus, but the spawn of a draconequus! Discord's ancient weapon had her and Neil from the beginning, and knew exactly how to manipulate things and trick her into thinking Neil was suffering the same fate as she did all those years ago, manipulating everything from the beginning right under her muzzle! Her embarrassment was legend.

Luna facehooved, hard. Could she have missed one seed that's somehow remained inert until now? No. She didn't miss. No way. What if... what if the real Discord did this? Luna believed he was reformed. Could he have been biding his time and only faked it?

There wasn't the time to ponder. She must go to Neil in the flesh and undo whatever in the moon Discord has done! Luna left the dreamscape and returned to her body in a blink.

Rising from her place of meditation by the fireplace of her room in the Equestrian Palace, she swung open her balcony window with her magic, pushed off the stone railing to gain some altitude, then broke the sound barrier flying at full speed under her night sky, blazing a streak of fiery blue light to Neil's location in the Everfree's bog by the old castle heap's drain.

The distance between her and the human was great, but her speed made the trip in fifteen minutes. Even the Nightguard who promptly shadowed her where hard pressed to keep up.

Landing at the soggy shoreline with grace, Luna's regal cyan eyes beheld Neil running around in circles with his arms extended like wings, making zooming noises and the occasional blaster sound.

Close to Neil, Artemis was lying on her back on the damp ground with her paws walking in the air, all while repeating in slurred speech, "I'm a basilisk, I'm a basilisk."

Luna's gut burned with wrathful butterflies upon spying the blooming vine of flowers on the tree Neil and Artemis surely opted to rest near.

There it is!

The flowers glowed that sickening purple hue around soft yellow petals with chocolate dusted tendrils dangling from the inside, each spewing chocolate dust which permeated the area with sweetened madness. Already it began to transform the environment in the immediate area, for the mud pits just beyond the tree turned to chocolate fondue, and the cattail weeds had become smore kabobs.

Her hooves felt tacky so Luna looked down. Egad, even the sandy shore of this pond is turning savory with cheese! Soon the pond by the castle drain will be a deluxe four-cheese dip pit!

That flower, that horrible flowering chaotic vine she extinguished over a thousand years ago wastes no time! It's her second worst nightmare come true.

Her Nightguards finally arrived above. She yelled for them to keep their distance.

Suddenly, that all too familiar voice chimed in behind Luna.

"Ah, Princess Luna, I wondered when you'd escape."

Luna swiveled her silver jeweled head to see Discord waring comically large sunglasses while laying on a lawn chair behind her, sipping a fine hot glass from a chocolate mug.

Luna responded rather loudly, "Ugh, Discord!" She stared him down with a scowl. "What hast thou done! Explain this... this outrage!"

Discord downed the scalding liquid glass, ate the mug in one bite, then gestured to himself in mock insult after taking off his sunglasses. "Why, Princess, you wound me! You really think I would harm our guest? Certainly not!" He disappeared then reappeared before her, standing in a prideful dramatic pose. "I am reformed after all."

"My moonlit backside thou art!" Luna stomped a hoof down with a mighty splat of cheesy mud. "Dastardly schemer! What angle hast thou in this conspiracy?"

"Temper, temper, your majesty." Smug Discord wagged a finger at her. "And here I thought you were abstaining from grandiose emotions."

"Spare me! Thou knowest better than to play coy!" Luna huffed and pointed a forehoof to the distant willow vined in pure evil. "Gaze to yonder tree. I have not seen pandemonium bloom in Equestria for over a thousand years!"

"Let's be honest, Luna." Discord clasped both palms together then pointed them at her. "You haven't seen much beyond moon rocks in the last thousand years."

Luna's eye twitched.

Discord summoned a tube of aloe cream with a snap of his fingers then cheekily offer it to her. "This should help."

Luna sucked air through gritted teeth as she tensed up, opting to let her anger ease a little with a quick breath. She should be used to Discord's shenanigans by now, but he's always known just how to get under her fur. She quipped sarcastically, "Mayhap it fell from the sky and took root there by itself? Hmmm?"

Discord muttered under his breath, "How satisficing if that were true..." The Demigod's lackadaisical demeanor sobered with an unbecoming seriousness. "I am just as surprised as you." He confided in the Princess earnestly, "I did nothing to your alien. Believe me, the human is the most interesting thing that's happened to this planet in ages."

Deadpanned Luna quipped without missing a beat, "Forsooth, thou spent those ages as a garden ornament." She kindly levitated the tube of aloe back to sender.

Dumbstruck Discord held the medicine and blinked. Did... did she just get him back? That didn't take long. Now, if only he could get the stoic to crack a joke one day... He digressed and smiled warmly. "Touché, Princess."

Discord threw the tube over his shoulder and continued, pointing a finger from his claw up. "Be that as it may, watching Neil in the Everfree has been the highlight of my month." He shrugged. "Why would I spoil that? He merely took a nap in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Wait!" Luna shook her head in bewilderment. "Why didn't thou assist Neil if thou wert present?!"

Discord waved it off. "Oh, he was fine! The Human can take care of himself better than you think! Besides, that would've spoiled the fun! It was sooo interesting seeing how he solved problems and just dealt with whatever the forest threw at him all without magic!" Discord sighed as Luna's scowl deepened. "Jeez, of course, if I felt he was actually going to buy the farm, I would have intervened." Suddenly, he was dressed in a full tan uniform with brown shorts and a backpack. He swore after pointing his right hand up with two fingers crossed, "Scout's honor!"

Luna could hardly with this being...

Turning around, the chaotic demigod gestured to his superweapon growing on the willow tree. "As for the sudden return of my beautiful pandemonium? I am both excited and disturbed, even more so than you." It appeared that Luna remained displeased with his explanation, and Discord added while sheepishly tapping two fingers together, "It's complicated."

Unamused Luna retorted, "Uncomplicate it."

Discord clicked his forked tongue. "Oh, very well." He muttered, "What choice do I have?" He pulled a chalk board filled with facts from his own shadow like it where a pocket, then donned some glasses and a bowtie to look extra smart before placing a white pointer on it with a loud thwack. "I'll start from the beginning."

Luna would've facehooved where she not standing in cheesy sand. A lecture was not what she wanted.

"First, remember our little war? I do." Professor Discord explained, "When I realized I might actually loose my kingdom of eternal chaos to you and Celestia, I thought that if I couldn't keep the world chaotic, I would simply create my own world, a New Discordia!"

"Discord-" Luna tried to stop the demigod, but he kept on.

"Genius as that was, and as great as I am, even I can't pull entire realities from my shadow like this chalkboard." He slapped the white pointer into his catlike hand with a proud yet menacing grin. "Instead, I created pandemonium to sow the seeds of chaos immemorial within the reality of my subject's minds, making the mental world my canvas! It also would morph the physical world to keep them happy and safe for me. It wouldn't matter if you ponies won the war or not! My kingdom of Discordia would take new form in the minds of its subjects and the lands which kept them! Eventually, you would've joined me in the end."

"I know." Luna said flatly, "Skip the prolou-"

"Ah, but I never told you the how!" Discord's smile morphed from menacing to devilish. "I took the most invasive species of flower I could find and poured my chaotic energy into it, which yielded my magnum opus!" He gestured to the distant chocolate dusted yellow flower again, glowing a chaotic purple on its vine. "Look at you, as beautiful as I remember." He wiped a tear from his wider eye, and the tear clinging to his finger offered him a tissue. "Thank you." Sniffling, he kindly took it and blew his nose.

Discord continued, his pointer then held out a second pointer to point out more facts higher on the board, which is now somehow taller then it was before. "It takes more than raw energy to sow true mayhem, you know. Ergo, I placed a small piece of myself into the original vine that went to seed. Every seed contains enough chaos to go around forever, and the ego to spread it in the right way."

The silent Princess was at the brink of vaporizing that chalkboard if he continued interrupting her interrupting him!

Discord was too occupied with his lecture to see it though, and he pointed the white pointer holding a smaller pointer at the final fact, a drawing of him placing a fractal of his own ego into his ultimate gift to the world. "That fractal of my past self is working to sow chaos in Neil as we speak by making all his desires come true, learning and evolving along the way. It'll create a perfect world he'll never want to leave, forever locked in eternal satisfaction and fulfilment. That is the barb on the hook, you see. It's quite ingenious." Discord smirked, humored by some idea he just had. "Think of the fractal ego as a smaller, old fashioned me. Perhaps we should call him," he placed the pinky of his paw to the corner of his mouth, "Mini-me?" He giggled.

Luna was not so amused.

Discord slumped with a heavy groan over the wasted reference. Adjusting his glasses, he covered the side of his mouth with his claw, then whispered to you, "See what I have to deal with?"

Now he's talking to thin air? Luna hadn't any more time for this! She interjected with her royal we, "Discord!"

The sound waves nearly blew off his bowtie. "What? You asked for this, Princess."

"Loose the chalkboard and uncomplicate it in two sentences, or less!"

"Shush!" Discord held the finger of his paw to his mouth. "You'll insult the board- and there it goes!"

The offended board screeched at Luna like fingernails had raked it, then tossed itself back into Discord's shadow.

Discord grimaced at the tantrum. "Yeesh, such language! It's good you're not fluent in chalkboard, Luna."

"Hardly could I give a fallen star!" Luna drew her lips together into a thin broken line, thin and broken like her patience. Some part of her regretted not blasting the chalkboard to oblivion when she had to chance.

The Princess added heatedly, "'Tis true I do not speak chalkboard, but I am fluent in accountability, which thou shouldst learn. If thou hadst not created pandemonium in the beginning, none of this would be happening. Now, thy abomination sprouts again to haunt the present. Thou art ruining everything again; despite it, thou jests and revels in mirth! Thou art so selfish!" She frowned. "Some things never change, indeed."

Silently taking off his glasses, Discord ate them with a crunch for they where made of rock candy. The bowtie was real, so he ate that too.

Luna watched Discord approach the mossy tree and pluck a petal from his ancient flowering weapon. The sudden gravity of his expression gave her pause.

The Demigod spoke more seriously than she believed he possibly could. He answered Luna's moral challenge while crushing the petal, rather angrily. "Some things never change?" His glowing mismatched eyes stared deep into her at the distance, burning with an inkling of genuine resentment. "Then, I suppose there's no hope for you either."

That cooled Luna's fire. She bit her lip as sudden apprehension over her words cut her anger deeply like a sharp knife.

"You think I put this here? You're thinking like a square, Princess." Discord threw away the decimated petal. "The truth is someone, or somepony, found my secret silo and stole the pandemonium seeds from my waffle cone rocket then planted some here." He considered the tree his weapon grew on and asked it, "Why here, though?"

The tree didn't answer. It's too busy being a tree to care.

Discord sighed. "Eh, it was worth a shot." He patted its trunk kindly. "They had voices of their own once."

Luna just asked, making sure she heard him correctly, "Thou weaponized thy vile plant into a missile?"

The draconequus deadpanned at Luna. "Oh come now, you ponies always have some trump card stashed away; that silo was mine in case I lost. Lucky for you, I got turned into stone just before I could launch the rocket. I planned to sow my very own garden of flowering chaos around the world. Everyone would've lived in a perfect dream of mirthful mayhem for all eternity, boredom as we knew it erased forever!"

Discord spun in place and extended both mismatched arms wide with joy. "Life itself would've been my masterpiece!" Then he slumped sadly. "But I couldn't resist Celestia's sing off challenge. It was far too deliciously random." He pinched the bridge of his... nose, muzzle, face?

Discord sighed in vexation. "Heelloo," he pointed at his head. "Horse-like head? It's a muzzle, obviously."

Oh, sorry.

He waved it off. "No hard feelings. It happens."

"Discord," Luna insisted, "Focus. Where is this silo? How was it found?"

"I'll have to show you. I hid it where no one but myself could find it. No one but me could get inside anyway... that is until somepony did just that and I want to know how!"

Luna used her magic to rub her throbbing temples. "A mystery for later, then. Why hast thou waited this long to inform me, or anypony else of this silo?"

"Why, Luna..." Discord placed the fingers of his paw and dragon claw together in another scholar's cradle. "Sometimes I wonder if you really know me at all. I may be reformed, but why would I tell you aalll my secrets until necessary? Now it is, now you know this one. Simple."

"Naturally." Luna wondered who, or what, would spread Discord's abomination, let alone know of it? And he said only some of it was used... meaning they have more. By the moon... that implication sent a shiver down her immortal spine. She must tell 'Tia of this later.

Luna admitted to Discord, "So, thou art not to blame. I see that now." The Princess rebuked herself for wielding her anger over zealously. Even though it was a controlled burn, it burned too hot. She still needed more training.

Horsefeathers.

Drawing anxious circles in the savory mud with a silver jeweled forehoof, she spoke sincerely, "My apologies for losing my temper at thee, and for questioning thy reformation efforts. In truth, I think thy efforts to be better for the sake of friendship are noble and commendable."

Discord's eyes widened, taken aback by the apology. He's not used to anyone apologizing to him; it usually goes the other way around. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I've yelled at me too sometimes. It's fine." He scratched his chin, a little embarrassed to admit what he had in mind to say. "Eh, I think your progress is rather inspiring too, in its own way."

"I'm relieved, and I thank thee." She smiled warmly. "I may require thy help in dealing with this silo at some point."

He shrugged, "I'll help you. I don't need it anymore anyway. And don't fret over the extra seeds: I will know if our mysterious miscreant plants anymore. I will not suffer an amateur misusing my baby."

Luna really appreciated that. "Thank thee. That indeed alleviates a lot of stress."

After a moment of silence, Discord huffed upon taking another gander around the pond area, altered by the chaos of the flowering vine. "While it is nostalgic to see the fondue bog returning to its former glory, I am less than pleased my child was used in such an amateurish way." The Demigod gestured to the mouth watering surroundings in offence. "They chose a swamp, reeaally? Who's going to enjoy pandemonium in a swamp these days? Who will frolic in the chocolate dusted mayhem, or savor the finest fondue combinations!? The frogs? The flies! There's no pony here, save for the Human and his timberwolf!" He grumbled while munching on a smore cattail dipped in fresh molten chocolate. "Such a waste."

As for Luna, she was content in finally learning the truth. She can take steps to protect herself from Discord's abomination once she returns to Neil's dream. Now, she must rescue Neil and Artemis from the thirsting chaos before they're trapped in a walking, dreaming mayhem for the rest of their lives! She said, "Time is the only wasted thing here, Discord."

Discord dramatically side stepped and gestured for her to go ahead. "By all means, Princess. Don't let me stop you." Tapping his chin with a claw, he admitted, "I never designed Pandemonium to handle a human mind. A part of me is curious to see how well Mini-Me will adapt to Neil's strangeness from here on." He chuckled darkly. "Oh yes, this should be a most entertaining challenge for my masterpiece."

Luna rolled her eyes and moved to sit down in a half lotus to focus, ignoring the fact she's sitting in cheese. Sometimes, a Princess's work can be dirty- suddenly, Discord snapped his fingers and her rump hit a warm, soft cushion. He summoned a nice sofa for her to work on. "My, Discord, how chivalrous!"

"Cheese is for eating, not sitting. You are welcome."

He continued, "Still, it's impressive Neil lasted this long." Discord pointed to Luna. "He'd be in much greater trouble were it not for you constantly reminding him he was in a dream. You've helped him stay sane; but even that and his strengths will be used against him soon enough." The Demigod held up a comically large wristwatch on his catlike paw. "I wonder how much longer he will last?"

Luna said, "I would ask if thou wert watching me all this time, why not intervene? But, I already know the answer to that."

"I might join in." He lied back down on his pool chair. Sunglasses back on his face, he held a hot, glowing tanning mirror at himself like it reflected the bright sun above in the dark night's sky. "But not before I finish my nightly tan. You go ahead."

Luna just left him there and entered the dreamscape.

At the Ruusaan, Neil left the cargo hold with his team behind. He didn't see Artemis or Luna. Odd. Where could they be? He called their names; hearing no reply didn't bode well with him.

Luka answered, "She could have went ahead to the drop bay."

"Without telling me?"

Marduk said, "We're at status yellow, Vod. There's no time to look for them. We should go to Nali and keep an eye open. Maybe Luka's right? We won't know until we get there."

"Alright." Neil had a bad feeling about this, but felt some relief upon seeing Artemis approach with a spring in her wooden step.

"Hey, Dad!" She exclaimed excitedly, "We going to the basilisks now?"

"Yes. Where's Luna?"

Artemis looked around. "Huh. I donno! She was over there walking in circles last I saw her." She sniffed the air. "I don't smell her anymore." Artemis then cocked her head at a sudden realization. "Wait. If this is a dream, and Luna isn't really here, then how can I smell her? It's just her brain that's here... or something, right?" The wolf scrunched her nose. "Doesn't that mean I'm smelling her thoughts?"

Neil just blinked on that one. "That's... uh... huh... a good question."

Artemis giggled. "Brain smells."

Annoyed by the delays, Luka crossed her arms and told Neil, "We're wasting time, Vod [Brother]."

"Right." Neil moved with his team through the hanger toward the basilisk drop bay.

Luna returned to Neil's dream, finding herself by the Ruusaan where she had left, beholding once more the monstrous hanger of the Kandosii dreadnaught, Cassus. The Mandalorians were still scrambling about the deck preparing for battle. The fight hasn't started yet. Good.

Luna searched Neil's ship, but found it empty. Huh. She couldn't sense him, Artemis, or his figment comrades anywhere nearby.

As if to make matters worse, the comm. officer's voice boomed over the hanger from the loud speakers above: Attention, combat status orange is in effect. Battle group Cassus will exit hyperspace in ten minutes. Make final preparations!

Oh no. Neil moved on without her! Luna's gut stirred with butterflies. Think, Luna, where would Neil have gone? Mand'alor said something about a Nali Kelborn helping with his mission in the briefing. Kelborn leads her own unit of basilisk war droids, so Luna needed to find this Kelborn at the basilisk drop bay. Her understanding was far from perfect, but according to the information on Mandalorians she gleaned from Neil's memories on Star Wars, Luna believed the bays should be in the eastward corner of the hanger.

Promptly venturing toward the eastern hanger, seeking with all her senses to find a trace of the Human and his timberwolf, Luna walked beyond the ammo crates where the some hanger droids were loading missile pods on a few gunships, then she passed by those very gunships stoically awaiting the battle with their pilots going over a system's check.

A Mandalorian soldier in beskar armor painted pink and brown walked by, bumping into her unnecessarily with all the empty space around them.

He swiveled his helmed head to sneer at her through the black t-visor. "Watch it."

Luna ignored the figment and pushed off the deck, opting to fly to the drop bay. She lowered her altitude after almost hitting a fueling droid on the way. The air space between her and the bays were rather congested with activity.

Before long, she landed on the floor with a metallic clank of silver jeweled hooves on durasteel, her cyan eyes carefully scanning in all directions. She narrowed them in suspicion upon seeing Mandalorian pilots and crew members scrambling to get the last of the fighters and bombers ready on the runway.

Those vessels shouldn't be here, neither should the runway.

In fact, there were squads of warriors gathering in formation to fill several troop transports in the next row of runway, and numerous fueling droids hovered in a waiting line by massive vertical fueling tanks above. The place extended down to the corner of the hanger by a set of massive blast doors on the right.

Luna blinked, knowing this to be the fueling station, not the basilisk drop bay! The fueling station lies in the western part of the Kandosii dreadnought's hanger. Luna traveled West by flying East. By Starswirl's beard, King Discord isn't going to let her reach Neil easily.

He's watching her, tricking her steps.

She looked behind, above, left and right, seeing no signs of anything like Discord. The Princess took a slow breath, and focused her senses on the dream's flow, muting the hanger's clamor and steely distractions. It was just her and the current of alien thought. She reached out her feelings for anything familiar, something not Human.

It's close. Luna could feel the growing chill crawl up her regal spine like a creeping spider, then she tasted the sudden sweetness in the air. Her periphery filled with a crazed circulating pink hue and she swiveled her head to face behind her!

Jumping around, her horn glowing to cast a quick warding shield, a concussive burst of a heavy blaster echoed in her ears.

The pink and brown armored Mandalorian that bumped into Luna earlier stood several hooves away with a blaster aimed at her head. Smoke billowed from his defeated back plate. The pink hue radiated from the warrior as he fell flat to the alloy deck with a heavy clunk.

Behind the smoking foe stood the red caped Mand'alor, holding a large heavy repeating blaster tucked between one arm and his silvery beskar bulk.

The smoldering corpse rose to stand, then warped into King Discord wearing his regal crown made of ornate ever flaming baked ice-cream cake. It's blazing meringue turrets and arcades were just as sleek as in the war, and their cinnamon candy coatings gleamed the same. A cape clasped over his shoulders made of fine purple suede embroidered in white bugbear fur waved in a non extant breeze.

"Youch!" King Discord yelped. Reaching behind, he took his cape and growled angrily after seeing the large burn hole in it. "This is my favorite cape!" He spun and pointed at Mand'alor. "You! So, you've been hiding amongst the figments? Well, you... you... whatever you are! You think you're sooo sneaky- Eck!" He choked on the wire of the grappling hook Mand'alor shot around his neck. With a mighty yank, the warrior pulled the ego closer.

With a burst from his jetpack, Mand'alor jumped the rest of the distance between himself and this manifestation of madness. Wrapping his crushgaunt around the thing's throat with the speed of a viper, he pounded Ego Discord's horse like face with the other armored fist. Each impact echoed with a concussive metallic thunk! over the fueling station's quieted ambiance, the strikes hammering with such force the flaming cake crown bounced on his enemy's head and altered King Discord's expression of painful surprise in cartoonish fashion.

Frantically, the demi-ego tried to escape with his chaos magic, but Mand'alor pushed his crushgaunt's servos to their maximum. The 'gaunt's fingers squeezed so tightly even durasteel would've crushed like soft clay, effectively disrupting the being's attempts to flee.

Luna watched on, wide eyed. Such force must be truly excessive if even chaos couldn't escape easily.

King Discord's face reddened, and his asymmetrical eyes watered and bulged from the pressure as his head inflated like a balloon. Mandalore's greatest warrior ceased hitting his foe to leer closer. A menacing visage permeated beneath Mand'alor's visor as he said with blood chilling intensity to the gasping face of his enemy, "Get off my ship."

Discord's swollen head popped like a balloon, scattering sugar sprinkles and confetti everywhere and over Mand'alor. Deflating from the crushgaunt's grasp, and blowing one long raspberry all the while, Ego Discord's body zoomed around the fueling station in spirals and loops.

Mand'alor brushed the obnoxious party stuff off himself, watching the weapon's grade fractal zip and fly around closely. Seeing that it'll make landing by the fuel tanks, he cast a quick glare to a crew member by the fuel control console. "Shields!"

The Mandalorian immediately followed protocol by activating the emergency shielding around the fuel tanks to protect them from blaster fire.

King Discord's deflated form reappeared by the fuel junction with a furious scowl. Readjusting his disheveled crown, he ranted at Mand'alor. "You're crazy! --"

Mand'alor coldly unleashed on him with his heavy blaster. A formation of a dozen Protectors then flew in from the main hanger by jetpack and focused their blaster fire. Every crew member and warrior in the fueling area then drew their weapons and joined the fusillade of hundreds.

A hailstorm of blaster and disrupter fire showered King Discord, leaving him with little to do but pull out a candy rainbow ribbon umbrella from under his cape to shield himself from the unforgiving assault.

Luna, being a silent witness to all this, gathered energy for a heat ray. Horn glowing white hot, she blasted her foe.

The umbrella began to melt, the ego knew he was in trouble. Those bolts really sting! Spying a mode of escape, he shrunk and flew into an open pipe in beside the fuel junction.

Mand'alor rushed to purge the emergency fuel lines by closing then locking the pipe cover before slamming the purge button. Out of the large porthole by the junction he watched the serpentine form of madness incarnate eject from the dreadnaught's hull into the accelerating void of hyperspace.

Mini-Discord swirled around, then yelled in anger, his shrill voice muffled, "You may have won this round, but you're still looosers!" Discord gestured to Mand'alor with a finger and thumb making an L over his head while sticking out a snakelike tongue mockingly, then he vanished into space like dispersing mist.

Turning away from the porthole, Mand'alor coolly approached Luna. The weight of his boot steps echoed over the silent fuel station.

All surrounding eyes set onto her.

Mand'alor's battle scarred silvery plates gleamed a matte and gloss finish in the artificial light. The last of the confetti fell off his exposed right pauldron after the red cape swagged off to behind the left shoulder. He stood several steps away from the Princess.

Dozens of heavily armed Protectors rallied into a box formation around them, ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Seeing the fuel station still remained on alert, Mand'alor ordered them to get back to work. "Carry on."

The crew and the soldiers did so, rushing to finish preparing for the battle.

Luna regarded the powerful figment curiously. "Thou hast my sincerest gratitude, Mand'alor." She cocked her head, asking mostly to herself aloud, "But, whence came thee?"

Mand'alor placed the butt of his repeating blaster on the alloy floor, resting both hands on its boron compensator. He answered Luna, voice low and deep, the helm's vocalizer adding to its impact, "Nevermind me; how did you get separated from Cin'vhet?" His bulwark standing twice her size, the black of his helmet's T-visor consumed Luna's reflecting stoic visage.

Fortunate favored Luna with this figment ambushing pandemonium like it did, but there's still the issue of Luna finding her way to the basilisk drop bay. Luna inquired, "Good figment, I humbly request thee assist me in reaching the basilisk drop bay. 'Tis a matter of life and death that I find Neil there!"

Mand'alor leaned closer, his response spiced with a modicum of awe, the kind of reaction when someone comes across an opportunity to win at the last possible moment. "You've escaped the delusion... that is why it finally showed itself to single out and attack you."

That reaction gave Luna pause. She watched Mand'alor holster his repeating blaster and place his armored hands to his helm, then twist it, unlocking the helmet with a depressurizing hiss. Removing it betrayed a man whom's appearance was uncannily close to Neil's but more matured, with brown close cropped hair and a braided beard tied to a short knot. His powerful brown gaze burned down to her. Aged scars racked over his face like the injuries Neil sustained from falling into the Everfree forest.

"Zounds!" Was all Luna could say in response.

"You finally see me now." Mand'alor's lips drew to a thin line as his face hardened. "The first time I approached Neil to warn him of the danger, he shot me with a recoilless. I tried again while he rested on the marshy shore where he meditated, but then even you attacked me."

Luna furrowed her brow as she made the connection. "I spied a serpent spewing poison into Neil, and Neil saw a foul swamp beast rise from the pond."

He nodded. "You saw what the madness wished you too. I knew then the only way to help Neil out of this delusion was to become a part of it. Your journey to Olympus was my last attempt at steering you two in a direction where we would meet." He pointed at her with an armored finger. "Now, we must join forces and defeat this madness before it takes Neil. Follow me!" He donned his helm and raised an open palm then closed it tightly. His Protectors scattered to a looser formation, covering the front and rear. Mand'alor raced toward the Basilisk launch bay. "This way, Princess!"

Luna ran to keep up. It seemed like pandemonium couldn't fool this aberration, or lead him astray. He's like a walking beacon of light cutting his way through the pink haze. Perhaps this is some kind of human psychological defense mechanism? It's certainly something completely unfamiliar to her. Yet another new discovery about her alien guest.

"I know you have many questions." Mand'alor told her, his gaze focused straight ahead, "I will answer them once Neil is safe. Tell me what you know about this thing we're dealing with, this force of madness?"

Luna explained the situation as she navigated the busy hanger beside him, explaining that pandemonium was to blame, an ancient flowering superweapon created by a demigod of chaos named Discord. The force he battled at the fueling station was a piece of Discord's will imbued into the plant to give it the intellect necessary to do its job. It's working to convince Neil to remain in this dream forever which will become his new reality.

Leaving the ammo crates behind them, the group fleeted across the open hanger where the fighters, bombers, and troop carriers awaited. The pilots and columns of soldiers saluted their leader as he sped by them.

"Huh, that's oddly like the Matrix." Mand'alor added, "There is nothing new under the sun." He understood the situation. "If he denies the madness, Neil will survive?"

"Forsooth, in theory!" Luna warned, "Discord is the epitome of cunning, guile, and a genius manipulator. A weaponized fraction of that ego knows we are privy to its plan. We must expect the unexpected hence forth!" Luna bit her lip anxiously. She worried that Discord's abomination may have already taken Neil in her moment of reflection and the idea stabbed her royal guts. If only she had known the truth sooner!

"You think this is your fault, do you?" Mand'alor spoke critically. "Nonsense. You were ambushed perfectly and no one could have done better. Regretting the past in the midst of battle is foolish. Focus only on victory in the present moment." He insisted, "Only victory matters, Princess!"

Luna appreciated the warrior's wisdom. "Yes, of course! Now is not the time for despair!" She refocused herself on the task at hoof. "We will reach Neil in time!"

"Good!" As they neared the last of the shaddlar transports, Mand'alor tried to contact Nali Kelborn over a comm. channel; but suddenly, the communications suite on his helm short-circuited, blowing the panel out with a spray of sparks and wisps of black smoke. He stopped and took his helm off to see the problem. A pink fruit fly with a tiny crown and two mismatched eyes flew out of the fried rear panel.

Fruit fly Discord said in its teeny voice while flipping Mand'alor off, "You'll never reach Neil in time, Jackass!" It dodged Mand'alor's attempt to snatch it and flew away, laughing maniacally in its squeaky voice all the while.

All the comm. suite's of every Protector in Mand'alor's guard also gave up the smoke, eliciting a rainbow of curses and colorful insults from the guards at the foul demi-ego.

Silenced on his own ship... Mand'alor ripped the destroyed unit off his helm, then crushed it in frustration. "Blast."

"Were it so easy." Luna huffed, "He will defy us at every opportunity, even in the smallest ways."

And just to add fuel to the fire, the comm. officer's voice once again boomed over the hanger from the loud speakers above: Attention, combat status red is in effect. Battle group Cassus will exit hyperspace in t-minus four minutes. All stations prepare for battle! All stations prepare for battle!

Mand'alor shouted as he put his helm back on, "We fly! Double time!" He activated his jet pack then jumped over the ships and crates in their way with his Protectors and Luna in tow.

The distance remained sizable to the drop bay, and time was running out.

Author's Notes:

Su cuy'gar, Vode an!

Here we are at part thirteen at last! Part fourteen is halfway done, and I am now going ahead to work on finishing it as soon as possible. I also wish this mini saga concluded. Fun as it was to write it, I want to see where things go in the swamp and onwards from there.

Now, it seems we had quite the twist in this part! Hopefully now the seemingly nonsensical drift from the main storyline makes more sense. Beskar and Fire was a chaotic train wreak because Discord was behind it all along! I wonder how many of you guessed it?

And someone stole Discord's superweapon is seems. Who could be causing all this mischief around Equestria, and why? Well, whoever they are, they know more than anyone should. That's for sure.

Ah ha! I knew something was up with Mand'alor. He isn't what he seems after all. I wonder what he is and what his motives are? He seems pretty benevolent so far.

The last chapter will lay everything bare.

Hopefully this chapter will alleviate the distress some you expressed over this mini saga drifting us from the stone age to star wars. Don't worry, it gets better before the end. At least, I hope so!

That is all for now.

Oya, Manda!

Neil

by Ferrum Requiem

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen