Part 10

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Soft bird calls resonated across the canopies as the group fought their way through the undergrowth, vines wrapping around their arms and tangling in their hair. “Eueugh,” St Owl moaned, shaking her head to brush away leaves. “I’ve always liked tropical places, but I never knew there were so many… obstacles in the jungle. Half of the time I don’t even know what they’re even supposed to be.” Crossly, she heaved herself over a fallen tree, cursing her broken leg that impeded her travel even more. It had mostly healed now, faster than she could have ever imagined, but who knows what was going in this place. Maybe she was just dreaming, and hadn’t actually broken a bone at all-- but it had hurt like heck all the same.

“I know,” Claaws agreed, hissing in frustration as branches clawed at her face. “Everything is so condensed, it’s a wonder how animals manage to get through here at all.”

“Well, they must,” St Owl replied tersely. “At least the air is warmer. You have no idea how glad I was to get out of that freezing tundra. With good reason, too,” she said, knocking on the brace supporting her leg.

“At least we all got out alive,” Claaws said somberly, her expression dark. St Owl looked over, surprised, at the sudden change of mood. “You and Little Reader just barely scraped through.” St Owl’s nose wrinkled, a little offended.

“I don’t ‘scrape through’ things!” she said, miffed. “I was fine the whole time-- barely even cold at all.” Claaws nodded, though her mind was elsewhere.

“I suppose…” For a second St Owl said nothing back, only allowing the sticky heat the swamp her body, before she heard Claaws speaks again, though her tone was more cautious, more unsure of what she was positing. “What if-- what if we never get out of here?” St Owl turned her head to look at Claaws, whose blonde-red hair was hanging over half of her face. “I mean… we’ve all just been assuming that this garden, or-- or whatever it is, has an end, but what if it doesn’t? I… I don’t want to spend the rest of my time here…” St Owl stopped suddenly, Claaws’s words striking a note in her mind. And one she didn’t particularly want to think about.

At good-natured badgering from her friends behind her, she hefted herself into motion again, but the more she walked, the more she thought over what Claaws had said. Since she’d been here, and even before, she had always thought of herself as the theorist, the one who rubbed shoulders with the morbid and eerie and pushed against the scary. But now, not even she could admit that notion had ever crossed her mind… And it won’t again, she thought, shaking her head determinedly. They would get out of here-- she had to believe in that. Or what was the use of even trying? What was--

Unfortunately, before St Owl could dwell on any more life philosophies, a deep and throaty growl resounded from just next to the group, several deep amber eyes flashing in the bushes. Danie tensed, crouching and getting ready to bolt if any all-too-familiar gray-furred face appeared, but a moment passed and nothing did.

The group paused, relaxing as nothing came out, but just as Scylla was about to tell them to keep moving, there was a loud snap near Eria’s hand, and several sharp, white teeth glinted in the filtered sunlight. The next second there was a ferocious yowl, and a jaguar, with a dappled pelt of dark gold and tawny brown, leaped out at them, its claws slashing towards Eria. She screamed and stumbled out of the way, crashing into a clump of bracken. Immediately the tight space exploded with chaos, with jaguars swiping at everything they could reach and the girls, swerving and struggling to escape. St Owl cursed her leg for being so useless in this situation, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a jaguar’s flint-yellow eyes gleam hungrily as it stalked towards her, long tail lashing.

Its claws unsheathed into the rotting leaves, scraping them aside, and with a bone-chilling scream it leaped at St Owl. She slammed her eyes shut, only hoping it would end quickly, but suddenly there was a bright flash and a ferocious roar made a wind blow past her face, ruffling her hair. She cracked her eyes open to see dark streaks and gingery fur, a tiger with stormy blue eyes. St moaned, her heart dampening. Where on earth did a tiger come from? But to her surprise, the tiger hissed and swatted the jaguar across the face, leaving a long cut. The golden cat meowed pitifully as its ears flattened, and it turned tail, fleeing into the jungle. Eyes blazing, the tiger turned around and gave a blow to another jaguar’s side, smashing it into a tree.

Frantic thoughts flashed through St’s head, but one blared out over it all as she saw a pale scar running over the tiger’s eye, and a dark swirl around its neck, somewhat like the color maroon.

“Joan?” she croaked as the tiger fought off jaguar after jaguar, taking no mind of the wounds appearing on her striped pelt. Finally, as the last speckled tail vanished through the, the tiger staggered for a second, but then collapsed to the ground, her form shivering back to a human’s, bleeding cuts all over her skin. The silver-grain tiger charm around her neck was loosely draped on the earth, crumpled on the undergrowth. Scylla scrambled to her feet, lunging over to Joan.

“Joan!” she shouted, shaking her friend by the shoulders. Eria pulled Scylla back, wincing at the sight of Joan. “What? No, stop! She’s hurt!”
“I know,” Eria said, shivering. “But that won’t help. Does anyone here have any gauze, or a tourniquet, or even a Band-Aid?”

“Here!” someone cried, and St Owl peered over to see Danie tearing strips off the bag that had carried their food, though it was nearly empty now, and pressed them against Joan’s wounds, wrapping it around her arms and legs as well.

“Hey…” Joan muttered, flinching away from the tourniquets. “I’m fine. In fact--” Joan sat up, shaking off her friends. “--I need to stay like that! I need to be a tiger, if there are--freaking jaguars wandering around this jungle. I’m okay, and I don’t need any healing patches.” She heaved herself to her feet, standing threateningly in the middle of the wide-eyed group. Grabbing the charm, she turned into a tiger, falling into line next to Scylla. Her eyebrow raised, Scylla looked over at Joan, hesitant. Joan nodded, dappled sunlight shining on her pelt as she moved like a shadow through the forest. Scylla sighed and moved on, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than ever. In the back of the group, St Owl was hobbling along, her mind whirling.

She knew how big cats, especially ones like jaguars, acted. She’d studied everything from animal behavior to animal diets. And jaguars? They worked alone. Unless they had a mate, leopards and jaguars and cheetahs and such were solitary, sometimes not seeing another of their kind for weeks. So what would a whole pack of them being doing together--and why would they be hunting down a group, so specifically singling them out to attack?

St shook her head, on the verge of a migraine. She was working her brain too hard. After a hugely stressful situation, as almost being devoured by a spotty cat was, the mind was slow and painful, almost unable to function normally. She just needed to take a rest. Really, they all did. Everyone’s footsteps were slow and dragging, their eyes blinking with sleep. However, St didn’t say anything, just faded to the back of the line to be alone with her thoughts.

Thankfully, though, later that day they did stop for a rest, when the sun was beginning to sink over the sky and the air was beginning to grow cool and dark. St Owl flopped down on the ground, her bones feeling as heavy as lead. “Good night,” she murmured, barely being able to get the words out. For once she wasn’t thinking of the potential dangers, of the lurking jaguars or the mysteries that plagued her mind. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she immediately sank into a dreamless slumber.

When she awoke, Nebula was sitting cross-legged across from her, slicing something that looked like cheese in half with a dagger. “Where did you get that?” St asked, a yawn interrupting her question.

“Joan loaned it to me,” Nebula replied, not looking up.

“Oh, so she’s human again?...”

Nebula shook her head, waving with one hand to the left of her. St pulled herself over, her leg dragging uselessly over the leaves, and saw a tiger curled up on the fringes of the group, one deep blue eye half-open. “I think she feels like she needs to protect us 24/7,” Nebula said, with a hint of a frown.

“I dunno, I don’t mind it,” St said, shrugging her shoulders. “Especially when I can’t run around, it’s pretty nice to know that you’ve got a bodyguard, someone who’ll off the bad guys so you can get away.”

“But what about her?” Nebula asked, finally glancing up at St. “She’ll get even more hurt if she keeps carrying all of our weight. She won’t admit it--heck, no one here ever admits they’re suffering, we’re all too stoic--but I know those bites and scratches sting like fury, and they haven’t even healed yet. If she carries on like this, she might even get herself killed.” St stopped and thought about it for a second, the first time that thought had crossed her mind.

On this journey, she’d born her fair share of pain--after all, she’d broke her leg, for heaven’s sake--but… Nebula was right. If Joan stayed a tiger for the mean time, fighting off the jaguars every time they came calling, what would it do to her? Ouch.

“Hey, Scy?” Booksy Owly suddenly called out, gesturing to Scylla. “Can you come here real quick?” Scylla got to her feet and walked over, squatting down besides Booksy.

“No nicknames. Just call me Scylla. And what is it?”

“It’s Ember,” Booky said, worry shining in her eyes. “She slept in really late, so I went to wake her up, but she wouldn’t respond and now she’s burning up!” St Owl noticed people getting up around her, moving to Ember and Booksy’s side as they discussed what to do. Growling, St tried to get up, but her leg was too stiff from the long rest, and she couldn’t do anything but shuffle around on the leaves. Suddenly her eyes caught on a small black rock skidding towards her, kicked out of Ember’s side by someone clustered around her. Digging her hand into the ground, she reached out and managed to snatch it up before someone stepped on her hand. Holding it up to the light, she saw that it was a dark coal, still faintly glowing with residual heat.

Lifting up her hand, she saw that it was smudged with coal dust, like dark ash. A sudden thought struck St Owl, and she lifted her head up, staring right at Ember. The girl’s nose was dripping, and she was rolling over and softly moaning in discomfort as waves of fever-heat swept over her body. Something in St Owl’s mind clicked, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together. She hesitated for a second, then, holding the coal up to her mouth as she slowly turned it in her hand, whispered, “Just like Embers in the Ashes.”

Electricity exploded in her mind, throwing her onto the ground. She heard one of her friends turn around, crying out with distress, but it was all just a haze, a staticy and dizzying haze. Eventually it faded to a hum, no more irritating than the buzz of insects in the jungle.

“Just like it, indeed,” a voice suddenly said, setting St’s heart thundering again.

“Who’s there?” she spat, eyes wide and breath shaking. Danie looked at her oddly, head tilted, and across the glade Joan lifted her head to glance at St Owl, ear flicking in confusion.

“...no one’s there, St,” Danie said slowly. “It’s just us.”

“Or is it me?” the voice purred, soft and sultry. Already, though, St knew who it was. She recognized that slightly arrogant, teasing tone, the way it reverberated in her mind and not in the air.

“Telepathy, now, Vox?” she said out loud, trying to sound cooler than she felt. Really, her heart was racing, hands trembling with fear.

“Vox?” Scylla squawked, tripping towards St. “But--I don’t hear them.”

“That’s because I’m in here!” Vox chirped, sounding falsely cheery. “In your mind, little owl. None of the others can hear me! Hee hee!”

“Shut up,” St snapped, immediately regretting it as hurt flashed in Scylla’s eyes. “No--I’m so sorry, not you, not you, I promise. Vox… they’re, um… in my head. You know. Telepathic?” Scylla’s eyebrow lifted, but St Owl heard a murmur of understanding from Kestrel, who was looking hesitantly excited. “So what do you want?--what does Vox want, I mean.” St Owl subconsciously groaned under the effort of keeping up two conversations with two different groups.

“I think the question here is what you want, St,” Vox said, their voice deepening to a whisper. There was a pause, where St didn’t--and couldn’t--reply, so Vox continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘just like embers in the ashes’. So you must want to truly know the secret of these coals.” St’s body unconsciously jerked with excitement. Of COURSE she wanted to know! This… this would connect everything! She waited, with bated breath, as Vox began to speak. As they did, though, her expression swiftly dropped, her eyes widening with shock. She began to shake her head rapidly, shivering heavily.

“No, no, no, no--” Scylla leaned over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“What is it?” she asked quietly as St Owl squeezed her eyes shut.

“C’mon, little owl!” Vox shrieked, nearly a crazed cackle. “Tell them, word for word? You want me to repeat it? Hahaha!! Let’s go!”

St Owl’s body tensed, then she barely nodded her head. “They… need to know. I’ll tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Claaws barked, though it was clear she was as stressed as any of them.

“ ‘Ember is the most connected to fire,’ ” St Owl said abruptly, her tone flat. “ ‘She is the most connected to me. Her charm was first forged, first melded into physical form. Her fire has been burning here for days, flickering like a steady beam. But I am no kindler. I cannot keep a fire such as hers going for so long--eventually it will dullen, and truly be nothing but ashes. Coals will fall from her fire like raindrops, bouncing wherever she is nearest. Is she falling ill? It’s to be expected. Coals are her health bar, her immunity to diseases and pains. Without them, she grows weak. She dims. Her spark grows pale and unhealthy. And when the last coal has fallen, the last ember hushed out…’ ”

“What?” Booksy Owly croaked, thought her ghostly-pale skin indicated she already knew the answer.

St Owl raised her head, tears streaming from her eyes as they clouded over, her snowy-white hair loose over her shoulders.

“ ‘She will die.’ “

~~

Ooooooh suspense! Sorry it's taken so long to get this out, I had a bit of writer's block when just beginning this. I did it though! Yay Cloud! 

I... Aaaah! Nooo! Embers! *really tight hug* No! NO! We won't let that happen! I would rather die than let you! 

Keep this topped while I work on Part 11!