Her sweat sipped out with regret tinting its colour. It was a missed opportunity she was sure she would shake her at later, for how stupidly she had wasted it. But it wasn't that bad of a decision. Mira knew that even with the element of surprise, she wouldn't be able to dispatch them all.
The owl seemed unable to care any less about the matter as it flew ahead with wings beating silently. Mira followed, carefully and cautiously. She distrusted the owl so much, and having her fate in its hands like that, was so unnerving. The owl didn't rush, it glide leisurely, not matching the urgency of Mira's blinks. She needed to find Pluto quickly. If he was still alive that is.
But she had reason to believe he was. The owl was cunning, but it was not a cheat. If he had been dead, it would have told her and not wasted its time leading her. It may have still taken the seeds, but it would have saved her the worry.
But it wouldn't have been bad if it took the search a little more seriously. Each damped beat of the owl's wings mocked her with its sound, lingering too long in the tensely quiet forest. The forest had... changed.
Everything felt less real, as if the compression wasn't only pushing things in, but also destabilising the integrity of reality within it. The mist was the worst part, but it was still manageable. Anyone would hadn't gotten used to abnormality of the mist was doomed to die a horrible death, and those who had survived up to this point had shown that they could live in white blindness. But now, it was even weirder. It seemed to frustrate her, allowing her to glimpse through and closing the window of sight just before she was able to discern what she saw. It sometimes obscured the owl too, making even its silhouette invisible to her when it was right in front of her.
And as expected, the jarring nature of the environment didn't bother it at all. It seemed to see perfectly, with the mist conforming to its will and not the other way around, which was how it was supposed to be.
She wished she could stop and take a moment to think. Too much things were weighing on her mind, most in ways that she didn't even know what they were yet.
She couldn't dwell on them, time was running out. Not just to find Pluto, but also for something else. She felt like she was racing against a counter, one that was absolute and could not be overpowered. She gripped her weapon tighter as uncertainty gnawed against her. She wouldn't break. Not yet. She couldn't afford that now.
***
Saul macabre performance was being to grow generic. Beast after beast, Saul did not slow down, he continued to slay them with mechanical efficiency. Pluto however, was becoming worse with time. He had even abandoned his routine stealing of ignored cores. The black brand on his shoulder burned constantly, creeping deeper and wider, consuming his flesh insidiously. The weight of it was unbearable. It constantly drew his energy out of him and left him wondering how to step forward. It wanted to break him.
But it didn't. The eel made sure of that. Anytime he felt his vision shutter and his brain threaten to shut down, his antique painting sprung into action. It didn't feel like a tap on the wrist to wake him up, it seemed to use an override control panel to force him to grasp unto his slipping consciousness.
Saul didn't notice, or rather care about the toll it was taking on Pluto. His mind was occupied with what was attracted and how he could kill it. It was startling in its simplicity. But it was startling, as long as he could maintain his pace. And he was ultimately human.
Pluto could see it. Exhaustion redirecting his strikes by centimetres, the slight tremble in his hands when his blade rung as it struck chitin. He knew Saul couldn't keep it up forever, and so did the man himself.
But the time to falter was far from being close. Not while things hungrily search for Pluto's blood. Not while the life of Saul's bait was at steak.
Pluto had watched Saul fight. Barely though, since they had only being together for a third of a day. Maybe more. He didn't have a watch. But in that time, he had noticed something. Saul wasn't invincible, he was just as fragile as any psychopathic killer, but he knew how to mask his exhaustion well. He knew when to allow himself to break, and that wasn't now. But if didn't let his body enjoy respite soon, it would force him to let it.
They had been at it for hours – one killing predators, the other grimacing as he attracted them. They had gathered cores, they had ran from choke points, they had slaughtered - or rather Saul had slaughtered - pantheons of predators, and more were still coming. Pluto's mark didn't wane like the humans did, it grew, it bubbled, it dragged him down faster with each passing second.
Pluto was failing, but he couldn't let that show. It had to blame it on Saul. After another especially hard kill, Saul's rasp breath finally let itself become audible.
"You can't keep this up," Pluto said, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible.
Saul shot an annoyed stare his way. His eyes sharp but weary. "I can keep going for as long as I need to."
If Pinocchio's law was real, Saul's nose would have probably elongated. They both knew he was lying. The sweat and body tremors said so. Saul was trying to hold up a sinking battleship with cello-tape.
"You can't," Pluto repeated, jumping out just in time to avoid the claw aimed his way that Saul had failed to cut. He continued. "This will wear you out. And eventually, you'll be at my mercy."
It wasn't a threat, at least Pluto didn't intend it to be as one. He wanted it to become a deterrent. A statement that was more like future telling than simple fact; captor becoming captured in the hands of the captive.
Saul didn't reply at first, he continued his work until the immediate wave of predators were all dead. Before he extracted the cores, he turned to Pluto.
"What do you suggest?" Saul asked, his voice surprisingly not matching the coldness on his face.
Pluto paused. The question was too soon. He had expected resistance, more pride, more verbal exchanges so he would know what the man was inclined to. But Saul didn't just seem open, he seemed hoping.
"You're strong and powerful, no doubt, but you are only one man. Not a team, and certainly not an army."
Saul bent to start harvesting. "Are you suggesting a partnership?" He voice held a bit of mockery. A bad sign.
Pluto was direct. "Temporary. We're not becoming friends, we aren't even becoming allies, just tools in each other's hands."
Saul ripped off the a big chunk of plant-ish skin and took the core laying beneath it. He stretched the silence deliberately, creating the illusion that he was considering it.
"Fine," he muttered, his words laced with obvious reluctance. "As far as it benefits me."
Pluto felt relief wash down his throat. The proposition had gone smoothly, perhaps a little too much. But nonetheless, he was not longer a slave. Not an equal either, but someone who had a say, albeit a small one.
As Saul turned to continue harvesting, Pluto spoke again. "One more thing," he said with hesitation. "We need to find Mira."
Saul's gaze flicked back to him. "I agreed on allies, not people who I'll babysit."
Pluto's eyes hardened. "And I agreed on people I can trust, not contractors."
Saul frowned slightly. "You agreed on nothing, your cut of the deal is that I don't end you here and now." Pluto shuddered involuntarily.
After a moment Saul continued. "But fine, we can find her."
Pluto didn't respond, he didn't need to. He just needed to follow and make suggestions.
***
The jungle seemed quiet and eerie on the onset, but a bit deeper into it, and the bubbling violence revealed itself. It wasn't man versus beast this time. Instead it was a confrontation between two entrants.
Collisions between flesh and bone echoed through the forest as they wrestled viciously. Both men had been decent once, but were now wearing the remains torn and battered clothes. They fought without weapons or supernatural abilities, just desperation and a fist to the face.
One was taller and stockier, but the other was quicker. They fought like animals, with not reason to whatever they did, just the will to inflict more pain on the opponent than he did. There were no words, just barbaric grunts that followed every push, punch and kick. Finesse was a foreign concept.
The taller man threw a wild punch, roaring and vibrating like he was about to level a mountain. The shorter one stalled his step forward, evading the attack by a bee's length.
He countered, slamming his fist into the other's gut. The larger one grunted in agony but did not stumble. Instead his eyes flashed with greater vermilion as he grabbed the shorter one's throat and pile drove him into the nearest tree.
The smaller one gasped for breath as his spine crackled, eyes wide with panic. He broke the unset law, reaching for a knife strapped to his waist. The larger one caught sight of this, but was too slow to act. And by the time he had landed another blow, the knife was already in his side. It wasn't properly crafted and was unintentionally barbed at the edges, so it hurt a lot more than it should have.
The larger one growled in pain and continued to pound his opponent as he received same. They struggled for a few moments, neither able to land a fully connecting blow.
They rolled around in dirt, and slowly the larger one gained an upper hand. The smaller one noticed and wrenched himself free. He staggered back, heaving breathlessly.
But his opponent was already on him again with even greater aggression. The larger man landed another blow, and this time, the smaller one didn't get up.
The fight was over and nature had taken its course.
***
Ronan, Khalifa and the new third– a short bearded man –, moved cautiously through the dense underbrush. They weren't hunting anything, just trying to be carefully enough to prevent their hunters from seeing them. They were all but dead now. Exhausted, battered, drained and disheartened from constant and pointless fighting. Their body were beginning to have second thoughts with their decisions. But shutting down was not an option.
They moved in a loose formation that did more for there confidence than create any battle advantage. They didn't speak, just listened to the oppressive silence. It was heavy, charged with their thoughts and wedged in-between their trust for each other. They went friends – or rather, Ronan and Khalifa weren't friends with the new member – they were just together for one reason, survival.
As they nearing another clearing, a more regular than not predator emerged from the foliage. It was everything an apex should be, not just in the best of proportions. Fast, deadly, and had a good knowledge of the terrain.
The trio closed in on it with unpractised precision, stress straining their coordination. Khalifa and Ronan occupied it from both sides, while the third flanked it from behind. The kill was not supposed to be easy, but not meant to be as hard as it was. It was clear that they were no longer near what they had been.
The beast tried to retreat when it saw that it could not win. But they pushed themselves a little harder and killed it. Desperation had forced them too.
The three stood over it with heavy breaths. The tension in the air finally stopped pretending to be mist and exerted itself on all their minds. They eyed the faintly glowing core, all with greediness, all with different motives.
But one was not wholly divisible by three