The thought began running in the background, slowly making itself noticeable to the mind that harboured it. It did not arrive as betrayal or even resentment. It was just a thought too true to ignore.
' Saul is breathing too loudly'
That was the first metric. The forest was silent, so terrifyingly quiet that even hesitation echoed. And Saul wasn't just hesitating, he was negotiating with pain before breathing, and that negotiation disrupted restraint. Saul's will was thinning, and it seemed like not fighting was even worse for his self control.
Pluto sat against rooted vines that had no reason being as thick as they were. He had his eyes half-closed, listening to the insects sing into the night. He also listened to Saul.
Saul had once been first. Moving first, deciding first, speaking first. He was almost perfect, so efficiently built that Pluto wondered whether he had actually been dragged in here unsuspecting. But now, he leaned more than he stood. He didn't act anymore, he just directed and watched.
Since the morning they had encountered about half a dozen predators, and Saul had done nothing but to order retreat when it was clearly out of Pluto's hand.
Pluto didn't hate that, he just noticed it. It was nice to have someone to blame for their lack of cores. His body wasn't whole either. His stomach was still tight with the lingering energy from the cores he had absorbed a while ago. His skin was mapped with wounds, some small, some large enough to obstruct easy breathing. The mark was the worst. It constantly burned and hollowed out his being. The most insidious ability of it was its attraction no doubt, but that wasn't as much of a problem as it was supposed to be. Pluto had learnt that keeping calm could reduce the range of beaconing.
Between him and Saul, there was a small difference that made Pluto frown. Saul was recovering slowly, but he was declining twice as fast.
And if he burned out before Saul recovered, they would be in a dire situation. They had not found Mira. Neither had they come cross anyone worth associating with.
To add to their predicaments, hunger had also started to bite. Battle seeds quieted hunger, lying to it briefly. But eventually, it would still know that it was empty and then it would bite again with renewed vigor. Pluto's stomach rumbled at the thought of the berrylike fruit.
Opposite to him, Saul shifted uncomfortably. "Do you see anything?"
Pluto focused, peering into his special perception. He didn't see anything, so he tried again. It clicked into place eventually. He nodded in response.
At the verge of his thermal sight, heat signatures approached. About twelve in number. Luckily they were small. And from their unhurried movements, he could tell they weren't charging at him, they were hunting for prey, which could have been anyone.
Pluto opened his eyes and stared at Saul. "How did you know they were there?"
Saul stared back flatly. " I asked a question."
Pluto coughed looked away, scolding himself for being so foolish as to ask for explanation. Still he waited for one, but not in answer to his question.
Saul leaned forward slightly, flashing his grey eyes in suffused moonlight. "We don't fight twelve at once, and not for prolonged periods at night," he said quietly.
Pluto frowned imperceptibly. ' Who's the we? I'm doing this all alone.'
Saul didn't hear that, fortunately. Instead he began to outline his plan. The swamp wasn't one big body of mucky water, it was a big muddy ground of layers. The first was quite loose, flowing just as water would, albeit a bit thicker. Just below it was another layer, a flammable one. Resin that laid suspended in thin oily foams. They would extract it and use vine bound leaves as carriers.
They would relocate before dawn, and trail the predators so they would trail them. Then move into thicker, drier growth were they would set their trap and when the predators came by. They would ignite and detonate it.
It was a plan to reap large and sow little. Minimal engagement and massive returns that could probably restore Saul to his former state.
It was intelligent. And it was a plan made by someone who could not fight. That was the second metric.
Pluto nodded when he was done speaking. "I'll gather," he said, standing up.
Saul did not protest. And that was the third metric.
***
Mira had lost sense of a lot of things. Time especially. Walking without destination had stripped meaning from her journey. And boredom was slaying her bit by bit. There was no action, no endurance, only continuation.
The owl glided silently ahead, alternating between extremely close – that she could feel the air from its flaps against her cheeks– and extremely far – that she had to chase after, so as not to get lost.
She no longer looked at the Sam tree, but she still noticed it. And everytime she did, the caked frustration boiled up slightly, then despair condensing it back into what it was.
But there was something else that ha caked inside her too. And that thing, was surprisingly fullness. She did feel the gnawing weakness anymore. Her stamina was always peaked and her body never stuttered. It was not coincidence, it was preservation in preparation for something.
But what?
She didn't rush, she had all the time in the world to think about it, and a even more afterwards. Regret did not move in the forest, so she kept moving instead.
***
Ronan wrapped his hands around the core, not in absorption, but for a much more mundane reason.
He closed both hands and walked out from behind the sagging trunk. "Which hand had it?" He said to Khalifa quite tensely.
She groaned. " This is never going to work, Ronan. The left hand obviously has it because its beating like it has a pulse contained in it, and also, its glowing, faintly but still."
Ronan's eyes met hers. "So what do you suggest we'd do then?"
She straightened up, careful not the bump her head against the side of the sagging tree that currently stood as the central support for their shelter of rubble. Consolation was that it was a one night thing.
"That we do something more mature."
"Like rock, paper, scissors?" Asked Ronan with a ghost of humour orbiting his lips.
She smiled. "Now you're acting your age."
They set their hands, counted and threw hand signs.
Paper. Paper.
Again.
Rock against scissors.
Khalifa's smiled faded, just dramatically enough to reveal her reluctant. Ronan didn't show compassion. He absorbed the core before catching her glance again.
The sensation spread through subtle warmth, rippling through every vein, artillery and capillary. Nothing amazing, but noticeable if he felt through himself well enough.
"It helps a bit," he said, frowning. He did not specify how because he didn't know what to say. Besides, Khalifa's sunken expression told that she wasn't in the mood to hear about it.
***
Pluto worked quietly, cautiously enough not to make noise and carefully enough not to contaminate the resin. It was hard to filter it, especially since no one sold sieves in the forest. He had to sort through it like looking for sand in sand, brushing muddy water aside until he had enough oily film in his hand.
Hunger raged at his thoughts, but it was not enough to blur them. He strained himself to keep the same level of alertness as Saul's plan required patience and proficiency.
He ran over it once more in his head. He was to trail them in such a way that it didn't inspire suspiciousness, giving them confidence when they were alerted to his presence and chased him.
The design of the it was nothing spectacular, but it was respectable. It was in the usual ambush niche, but it wasn't cliché.
When he returned from his sourcing, he met Saul still awake, but sitting more leisurely than before. He was fighting sleep.
"Are you done?" Saul asked.
"If I carry on any longer, we may not meet up with schedule," Pluto replied with an expression that was ready to break.
Before dawn broke they had moved. It took a while to arrange the resin inside the bundle of leaves. And even more to find a suitable terrain to set the trap up in.
By the time all their criteria had been met, morning had bloomed.
They were ahead of the beasts for now, so they would rest before the predators caught their scent and came looking.
The trap was messy, just bundles of leaves laid without formation and pockets of resin used to coat the environment. Nothing guaranteed them that they wouldn't be caught in the fire too.
"Once they commit," Saul said with uneven breaths, "ignite and run sideways, not back."
Pluto nodded as always. He didn't ask what a plan B would be if all the many things that could go wrong went wrong. He just had to believe that they wouldn't.
Saul moved far back and Pluto positioned himself within baiting distance. Minutes passed, then something in semblance of a long time.
Then movement. One by one they all emerged. Twelve in number and burning with hunger. They had sensed his mark. And it pulsed back in gratitude.
But even still, they did not rush blindly. At least not as blindly as he would have expected. They sniffed the air, and moved on the paths the resin had been sparingly present around.
"They're reading it," he murmured with an anxious expression.
The predators scattered, circling in patterns that weren't patterns, trying to divide attention, trying to force mistakes. This was one of the times Pluto realized once again that he wasn't fighting mindless brutes, but animals with instinct that rivalled intellect.
Just as the first one lunged, Saul struck the spark.
The resin ignited violently, racing across the paths of oily slick. But the fire felt short of expectations nonetheless. Compared to what they had envisioned, Its speed was slow and crawling, as if it met resistance in the air itself.
Still, two predators were caught in it, shrieking as flame consumed bark and vine, which was their skin. Three more burned partially. But several were able to leap clear before the explosion proper happened.
The delayed detonation rolled in a muffled boom, thumping lower than supposed. Heat washed over them instead of a shock wave. Trees were burnt from within and not blown by sheer force. The weak soil only bubbled and did not scatter.
When smoke cleared, seven enraged predators still remained. Wounded,but alive and hungry.
Saul spoke. "That shouldn't –" he stuttered. "We retreat," he barked.
Pluto knew that was the plan, but how to execute that without getting cleaved was a problem. The trap had worked, but in who's favour?
Then, the beasts lunged again.