Nine of them are before famine, a face-off they cannot hope to win. Each moment weakens them, the insatiable desire growing. Even if they could somehow beat Famine, and end their hunger, War and Conquest stand ready to devastate those that remain. But too much binds them to their former world – they care too much – and they will not lay down and die. Still, the boy flinches when three more vanish from amongst the group. He is quite sure that whatever comes will be a mercy for the green-and-red girl, and the golden roan, who cannot even rise from the ground; and he finds it hard to mourn the loss of the girl who gave herself to Conquest (even if she does seem to have changed her mind) – but nine are now six, and six feels like none at all in the face of this challenge.
For the first time the explosion does not make him flinch (or throw him across the ground). It’s distant, muffled, and almost normal by now. But the smile on Famine’s face makes Rhonen shiver, sidling uneasily back and forth between his companions. Only Famine’s voice breaks the uneasy silence, making the coppery colored boy go very still, and glance at his companions. There is no uncertainty in Famine’s voice, and Rhonen doesn’t doubt his sincerity, but they have come this far together, and together they should go the next step. But Warship seconds the command, a voice the boy trusts, and so he turns and runs with them.
For a brief moment, they have the lead. Bruised and broken though they may be, War and Conquest were behind Famine, and their minions are temporarily distracted. So he runs, remembering that he had come through the woods from the seals. Returning through the woods is his best chance to find a piece of the final seal – though he wonders what will happen then. Will he be trapped here, forever, to contain the four? It would be, a part of the back of his mind suggests, quite the parallel if four of them remained after the final culling. Once each to trap the four; only two more would escape this place (wherever they have gone).
But oh, what if they can win? It is this desire, this strongest of feelings (hope) that drives him forward, despite the pain in every step. Despite the boils where Conquest had touched him, despite the blood flowing across his haunches where the Mongoose’s teeth had pierced and torn. Despite, even, the still-gnawing hunger. Hope that he might still be returned to Aubri, to Nairne, to his parents. To hear the watery din of the Falls, or the whistle of the wind across the Deserts. To explore the strange places in Beqanna he’s never been.
This distraction nearly costs him that chance. Running headlong with no thought but to return to the clearing and the pieces of seal, Rhonen stumbles into a giant spider’s web; it grabs at his limbs, his short coat, and immediately he begins to thrash. Struggling only tangles him further, the vine-thick spider webs wrapping around his flailing limbs. Only the faint, strange tremble of something else moving across the web makes him still, breathing hard but unable to move to look. And then it is there, in the corner of his vision; a spider like he has never seen, nearly half his own size, and with a tail like the Desert’s scorpions, that rattles faintly like a snake when it moves.
He begins to struggle again, uselessly, making no progress as the spider creeps towards him. Not a moment too soon, a force hits him and he is flung from the web, falling to the ground as vicious needle-like teeth tear into his shoulder, his neck. Ah – the weasel-like creature’s mate, then. Despite the intense pain, Rhonen smiles. This foe he has fought already. Lashing out with all four legs he sends it sprawling to the ground and leaps to his feet, whirls, and brings his forelegs down on its skull with a crunch that makes his stomach turn. He doesn’t take the time to think about it – simply turns again and runs.
Runs and runs, each step shorter and each breath more labored. It is in this condition that he stumbles across War again, but the trees are dense here. War lands only a single blow on the top of Rhonen’s haunches before the much smaller boy ducks underneath a branch, some vines, into a tight space and he is free of War, and amidst the flashes of the real world shining through he can make out the natural light of the clearing. And – there! Satisfaction fills him as he steps on his final piece of seal, and it settles with a heavy weight into his chest beside the others. Looking towards the clearing he begins to move again, limping forward, dizzy from blood loss and pain and hunger. The flashes have taken on a distinct blue tinge, he notices dreamily, and it’s almost pretty. Pretty like the sky, like the waterfall, like his mother’s favorite color change.
‘Death.’ the voice brings him to a shivering halt. Perhaps he was the only one who had not guessed the final of the four, but now a dread fills him. He cannot run any longer – he is too weak to run anywhere, his legs nearly trembling from the exhaustion. He is dizzy (from hunger, from blood loss, at this point he doesn’t even know) and heart-sick and tired. The last of the four is stalking him, but he doesn’t have the energy to turn and look though the footfalls closely mirror his own. Still, the thought of what waits in the before is enough to send him lunging forward, stumbling towards the clearing until he trips and falls, and gets back up only to take a few steps and fall again. This time Death steps forward swiftly, and presses it’s muzzle to his unwounded shoulder, the touch dry and cool. It says nothing, perhaps knowing he will not listen, but the coolness of the touch spreads through him and he collapses from his knees to his side, eyes meeting Death’s before sliding closed.
It is the thought of all of the pleasant memories that shade of blue conjures that usher him into whatever comes next.
![[Image: U5duKtst_o.gif]](https://images.imgbox.com/2f/f9/U5duKtst_o.gif)
Aubri & Rhonen [twins]