Chapter Text
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
The room was frozen — blood on the floor, Lomedy barely conscious, the creature’s absence hanging in the air like a scream that hadn’t finished. Flame’s breath caught in his throat, the world tilting beneath him.
And then everything broke at once.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Theo shouted something incoherent.
Egg let out a choked sob.
Mapicc’s voice cracked as he called Lomedy’s name.
Spoke stumbled forward, eyes wide with horror.
Wemmbu’s wings flared in panic.
And Flame—
Flame couldn’t move.
His knees threatened to give out. His vision blurred. His breath came in sharp, painful gasps. He stared at Lomedy’s blood pooling across the floorboards, at the torn stump where his arm should’ve been, and his mind shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.
I should’ve been here.
I should’ve stopped it.
I let this happen.
I let him get hurt.
I’m useless—
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
He couldn’t do anything.
The room was collapsing around him.
Everyone was yelling.
Everyone was panicking.
Everyone was breaking.
And then—
Parrot inhaled.
A slow, deliberate breath.
A grounding breath.
A leader’s breath.
He stepped forward, shoulders squared, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
“STOP.”
The room froze.
Every head snapped toward him.
Every voice went silent.
Every breath held.
Parrot’s eyes were sharp, steady, unshakable.
“Listen to me,” he said, voice stern and controlled. “Right now.”
No one argued.
No one questioned.
They just listened.
Parrot pointed at Spoke. “Is there a first aid kit?”
Spoke nodded rapidly. “Y‑yeah—yeah, in the storage closet—”
“Good. You and Theo go get it. NOW.”
Theo didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Spoke’s arm and the two of them sprinted down the hall, already shouting at each other before they even reached the door.
Parrot turned to Egg next. “You. Rag and washcloth. Kitchen. Move.”
Egg bolted, slipping slightly on the blood before catching himself and sprinting away.
Then Parrot looked at Mapicc — who was already pressing a towel against Lomedy’s wound, hands shaking violently.
“Mapicc,” Parrot said, voice softening just a fraction. “Keep pressure on it. Don’t let him fall asleep.”
Mapicc nodded hard, turning back to Lomedy immediately. “Hey—hey, stay with me, okay? Don’t you dare close your eyes—”
Lomedy gave a weak, pained smile. “I’m… not going anywhere…”
Parrot swallowed, then turned to Wemmbu.
And then to Flame.
Flame was shaking so hard he could barely stand. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, his breaths sharp and shallow. He looked like he was about to collapse.
Parrot’s voice gentled again. “Wemmbu. Take him upstairs. Calm him down. He can’t be here right now.”
Wemmbu nodded instantly, stepping toward Flame with careful, slow movements.
“Flame,” he whispered. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Flame didn’t respond — but he let himself be guided, stumbling as Wemmbu led him toward the stairs.
Parrot watched them go, jaw tight, heart pounding — then turned back to Lomedy.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Let’s save him.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Theo practically slammed into the storage closet door, nearly ripping it off its hinges as he yanked it open. Spoke stumbled in right behind him, both of them breathing hard, adrenaline spiking so high it made their hands shake.
The closet was a disaster.
Boxes stacked wrong.
Old blankets falling off shelves.
A mop that immediately fell over and hit Theo in the shin.
“FUCK—!” Theo barked, kicking it away.
Spoke was already tearing through boxes, shoving things aside with zero strategy. “Where the fuck is it?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!” Theo yelled back, flinging open a plastic bin full of holiday decorations. “WHY DO WE EVEN HAVE THIS MUCH SHIT?!”
“STOP YELLING AT ME!”
“I’M NOT YELLING AT YOU, I’M YELLING NEAR YOU!”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
Theo grabbed a random box, shook it violently, heard nothing useful, and threw it behind him. It hit the wall with a loud thud.
Spoke was digging through a crate of old tools, muttering curses under his breath. “It should be here, it should be here, it should be—”
Theo shoved aside a stack of towels and froze.
“WAIT—WAIT—WAIT—”
Spoke spun around so fast he tripped over a bucket. “WHAT?!”
Theo held up a small white box triumphantly.
“FIRST AID KIT!”
Spoke let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. “THANK FUCK—”
Theo grabbed it, clutching it like it was the Holy Grail. “Go, go, go—MOVE!”
They sprinted out of the closet, nearly colliding with each other in the hallway, both still yelling even though they were now running in the same direction.
“DON’T DROP IT—”
“I’M NOT GONNA DROP IT—”
“YOU BETTER NOT—”
“SHUT UP AND RUN!”
They barreled back toward the grand room, hearts pounding, lungs burning, the first aid kit clutched tight in Theo’s hands like it was the only thing keeping Lomedy alive.
Because right now?
It was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Egg sprinted into the kitchen so fast he nearly slipped on the tile. His hands were shaking, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts, and his heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of his chest.
He grabbed the first container he saw — an old metal bucket sitting under the sink — and shoved it into the basin. His fingers fumbled with the faucet, turning it on too hard so water blasted against the bottom of the bucket, splashing everywhere.
Egg didn’t care.
He leaned over the sink, gripping the counter with one hand, staring at the water level like he could force it to rise faster with sheer rage.
“Hurry up,” he muttered, voice cracking. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up—”
The water trickled painfully slowly.
Egg slammed his palm against the side of the bucket. “Come on, you useless piece of metal—fill up!”
The bucket did not, in fact, care.
Egg’s eyes burned. His throat tightened. His breath hitched.
“Please,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Please just—just fill up—”
The water finally reached the halfway point.
Egg didn’t wait for more.
He shut off the faucet, grabbed the bucket with both hands, and nearly dropped it because it was heavier than he expected. Water sloshed over the rim, splattering across the floor and his shirt.
He didn’t stop.
He grabbed a rag and a washcloth from the drawer, shoved them under his arm, and sprinted back toward the grand room, water sloshing wildly with every step.
“Don’t spill, don’t spill, don’t spill—” he muttered as he ran, even though he was absolutely spilling everywhere.
He burst back into the room, breathless, soaked, and shaking, but holding the bucket like it was the most important thing in the world.
Because right now?
It was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Parrot dropped to his knees beside Lomedy the second Egg and the others sprinted off. His hands hovered uselessly for a moment — not because he didn’t know what to do, but because seeing Lomedy like this made something inside him twist painfully. His breath hitched at the sight — the pale skin, the trembling chest, the stump where an arm should’ve been.
For a second, Parrot’s vision tunneled.
He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s dying.
But he forced himself to breathe. Forced his hands to steady. Forced his voice to come out calm.
Lomedy’s breathing was shallow.
His skin was pale.
Blood soaked the floor beneath him.
But his eyes were open.
Barely.
“Lomedy. Hey. Look at me.”
Lomedy’s eyes fluttered open more, unfocused at first, then slowly sharpening on Parrot’s face.
“Parrot…?” His voice was thin, barely there. “You’re… loud…”
Parrot let out a shaky laugh that cracked in the middle. “Yeah, well, you’re bleeding all over my floor, so we’re both having a rough day.”
Lomedy’s lips twitched. A ghost of a smile.
Mapicc was on the other side of him, knees slipping in the blood as he pressed a towel against the wound with both hands. His fingers were trembling so violently he could barely keep pressure steady.
“Lomedy, hey—hey, buddy, stay with me,” Mapicc said, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare fucking close your eyes.”
Lomedy blinked slowly. “Not… planning to…”
Parrot swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm. “Good. Because I’ve got stories to tell you, and you’re not getting out of listening to them.”
Lomedy gave a tiny, breathless laugh.
Parrot took that as a victory.
He launched into the first thing that came to mind — a ridiculous story about the time he and Theo tried to cook pasta and accidentally set off the smoke alarm for twenty straight minutes. Lomedy actually smiled at that, a real one, faint but there.
Parrot’s chest tightened with hope.
“He’s still with us,” Parrot murmured, more to himself than anyone else
Lomedy let out a tiny, breathless laugh that sounded like it hurt.
Mapicc’s eyes filled with tears. “He’s still smiling. That’s good, right? That’s good?”
Parrot nodded, even though his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Keep him talking.”
Mapicc leaned closer, voice shaking. “Hey, remember earlier? When Egg said coffee wasn’t a food group? He’s wrong. He’s so wrong. You know he’s wrong, right?”
Lomedy’s eyelids fluttered. “Coffee… is… everything…”
“EXACTLY,” Mapicc said, letting out a laugh that was half-sob, half-hysterical relief.
Parrot felt something warm bloom in his chest. Hope. Real hope.
He grabbed Lomedy’s hand — the one that was still there — and squeezed gently. “Hey. You remember when Spoke tried to make pasta and set off the smoke alarm for twenty minutes? And then blamed the pot?”
Lomedy’s smile widened a fraction. “He… said it… was haunted…”
“Yeah, well, he’s an idiot,” Parrot said, voice softening. “But you’re not allowed to leave me alone with him, okay? I can’t handle that.”
Lomedy’s eyes glistened. “Not… going… anywhere…”
Parrot’s throat tightened.
Then footsteps thundered back into the room.
Theo and Spoke burst in first, panting, wild-eyed, shoving the first aid kit toward Parrot like it was the last lifeline on earth.
Egg followed right behind them, bucket sloshing water everywhere, rag and washcloth clutched in his shaking hands.
Parrot didn’t waste a second.
“Spoke — open the kit. Theo — gauze, now. Egg — water here. Mapicc — don’t move.”
Everyone obeyed instantly.
Spoke’s hands fumbled with the latch. Theo ripped open the gauze packets with his teeth. Egg set the bucket down so hard water splashed across Parrot’s knees.
Parrot worked fast.
He cleaned the wound, wiping away blood that kept trying to pool back in. He wrapped the stump tightly, layer after layer of gauze, his hands steady even as his heart hammered in his throat. He checked Lomedy’s breathing, checked his pulse, checked his color.
Egg and Mapicc kept talking to him the whole time — stupid jokes, soft reassurances, anything to keep him awake.
“Hey, Lomedy, remember when you tried to teach me how to juggle and I hit myself in the face?” Egg said, voice cracking.
“You… deserved it…” Lomedy whispered.
Mapicc laughed through tears. “He really did.”
Parrot tightened the final bandage, pressing down firmly. “Okay. Okay. Bleeding’s slowing. That’s good. That’s really good.”
He wrapped the last layer, tied it off, and sat back on his heels, breath shaking.
The bleeding had stopped.
The bandages held.
Lomedy’s breathing steadied.
He was still pale, still trembling, still in pain — but he was alive.
Parrot exhaled, a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Okay. He’s stable. He’s stable.”
Mapicc let out a choked sob of relief, pressing his forehead to Lomedy’s shoulder. Egg wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his cheek. Theo slumped against the wall, shaking. Spoke let out a laugh that sounded like it hurt.
Lomedy blinked up at them, exhausted but conscious.
“Did… we win?” he whispered.
Parrot smiled — a real, relieved, exhausted smile.
“For now,” he said softly. “Yeah. We did.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wemmbu guided Flame up the stairs slowly, carefully, like he was handling something fragile that might shatter if he moved too fast. Flame’s steps were uneven, stumbling, his breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. His eyes were wide and unfocused, staring at nothing and everything at once.
By the time they reached Flame’s bedroom, his legs nearly gave out.
Wemmbu nudged the door open with his shoulder and gently steered Flame inside. The moment Flame crossed the threshold, he collapsed against the wall, sliding down until he was curled on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, hands gripping his hair.
His breaths were fast. Too fast.
His chest was heaving.
His whole body was shaking.
Wemmbu crouched in front of him, wings tucked tight, trying to make himself small and non-threatening. He didn’t touch Flame — not yet. He knew better. He knew what panic felt like. He knew what unwanted touch could do.
“Flame,” he whispered, voice soft but steady. “You’re safe. You’re upstairs. You’re with me. Just breathe.”
Flame didn’t hear him.
His thoughts were spiraling too fast, too loud, crashing into each other like waves in a storm.
I should’ve been there.
I should’ve stopped it.
I let him get hurt.
I let him bleed.
I let him scream.
I’m useless.
I’m a disappointment.
I’m a fucking disappointment.
I should’ve— I should’ve— I should’ve—
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
He couldn’t see anything except Lomedy on the floor, blood everywhere, his arm— gone.
Flame let out a choked sob, burying his face in his hands. His whole body trembled violently, like he was freezing from the inside out.
Wemmbu’s heart twisted painfully.
He knew this feeling.
He knew this kind of panic.
He knew what it did to a person.
He hesitated only a moment — then reached out and placed a gentle hand on Flame’s shoulder.
Just a touch.
Light.
Grounding.
Flame froze.
The touch cut through the noise like a lifeline thrown into a storm. It was the only thing he could feel that wasn’t guilt or terror or self-hatred. He latched onto it instinctively, desperately, like he was drowning.
And then he collapsed forward.
He fell into Wemmbu’s arms with a broken, gasping sob, clutching at him like he was the only solid thing left in the world. Wemmbu caught him immediately, wrapping his arms around Flame and pulling him close, wings curling around them both like a protective cocoon.
Flame sobbed into Wemmbu’s shoulder, shaking so hard it rattled his bones. His breaths came in sharp, painful bursts, each one sounding like it hurt.
“I should’ve been there,” Flame choked out. “I should’ve— I should’ve— I let him— I let him—”
Wemmbu held him tighter.
“Lomedy will be okay,” he whispered, voice steady, soothing. “He’s alive. He’s stable. You didn’t let anything happen. You didn’t fail him.”
Flame shook his head violently. “I’m a disappointment— I’m useless— I should’ve—”
“You’re not a disappointment,” Wemmbu said firmly, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. “You’re not useless. You’re scared. You’re hurting. That doesn’t make you weak.”
Flame didn’t even realize he’d been saying those words aloud until Wemmbu repeated them back to him. He let out another sob, burying his face deeper into Wemmbu’s shoulder.
Wemmbu stroked his back gently, wings wrapped around him like a shield. “You’re here. You’re safe. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
They stayed like that for a long time.
Minutes.
Maybe longer.
Time didn’t feel real.
Flame’s sobs slowly softened into sniffles. His breathing steadied, though it still hitched occasionally. His shaking eased, though it didn’t disappear entirely.
Wemmbu kept whispering to him — soft, steady reassurances, grounding words, gentle reminders that Flame wasn’t alone, that Lomedy was alive, that the world hadn’t ended.
Eventually, Flame’s mind cleared enough for him to actually hear the words.
He pulled back slightly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I… I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Wemmbu shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Not for this. Not ever.”
Flame swallowed hard, eyes red and swollen. “I just… I didn’t know what to do.”
“You didn’t have to,” Wemmbu said softly. “That’s why we’re a group. We take turns falling apart.”
Flame let out a weak, shaky laugh.
They sat on the floor together, leaning against the wall, talking about everything and nothing. The creature. The blood. The fear. The guilt. The stupid jokes Lomedy made even while bleeding out. The way Parrot suddenly became a leader. The way they heard Egg yelling at a bucket.
Wemmbu kept Flame upstairs as long as he could — not out of secrecy, but out of protection. Flame wasn’t ready to see the aftermath yet. He wasn’t ready to face the blood again.
Eventually, Wemmbu asked gently, “Do you want to go downstairs? Or… do you want me to check first?”
Flame froze.
His breath caught.
He couldn’t bring himself to answer.
Wemmbu nodded. “I’ll go. I’ll check. I’ll tell you everything. You don’t have to see anything until you’re ready.”
Flame nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Wemmbu stood, gave Flame’s shoulder one last grounding squeeze, and slipped out of the room.
Flame stayed curled on the floor, staring at the doorway, waiting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wemmbu moved down the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. His wings were still half‑flared from the adrenaline, his hands trembling slightly from everything he’d just witnessed upstairs. The house felt different now — quieter, but not peaceful. The kind of quiet that comes after screaming. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s holding its breath.
He reached the bottom step and froze.
The grand room looked like a battlefield.
Blood smeared across the floorboards in dark, drying streaks. Towels soaked through and discarded. The shattered window still gaping open, letting in cold air that made the room feel even more hollow. The bucket Egg brought sat half‑empty on the floor, water tinged pink.
But the center of the room — the couch — was where Wemmbu’s eyes landed.
Lomedy was awake.
Weak, pale, exhausted… but awake.
He was propped up against a pile of pillows, his breathing slow but steady. His right arm — what was left of it — was wrapped in thick layers of bandages, clean and tight. Theo sat on the floor beside him, knees pulled up, talking softly. Egg was perched on the arm of the couch, eyes red but smiling faintly. Mapicc sat closest, one hand resting gently on Lomedy’s shoulder, as if afraid he’d disappear if he let go.
Lomedy looked up when Wemmbu entered.
He gave a small, tired smile.
Wemmbu’s breath left him in a rush.
Parrot and Spoke were across the room, scrubbing blood off the floor and walls. Parrot’s movements were sharp, precise, almost mechanical — the kind of focus someone uses when they’re trying not to think too hard. Spoke was quieter, jaw clenched, eyes flicking constantly toward Lomedy as if checking he was still breathing.
Parrot noticed Wemmbu first.
He stood up immediately, wiping his hands on his already‑ruined shirt, and walked over. His face was tight, but his eyes were softer than before.
“How’s Flame?” Parrot asked quietly.
Wemmbu exhaled. “He’s… better. Calmer. He’s not spiraling anymore.”
Parrot nodded, relief flickering across his face. “Good. Good. He needed to get out of here.”
Wemmbu hesitated, then asked, “And Lomedy?”
Parrot’s expression softened even more. “Stable. Weak, but stable. He’s talking. He’s… he’s okay.”
Wemmbu’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank god.”
They stood there for a moment, just breathing in the aftermath.
Parrot glanced back at Lomedy, voice dropping. “He scared the shit out of us.”
Wemmbu nodded. “Flame too.”
Parrot’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. I figured.”
They talked quietly for another minute — about the bleeding, the bandages, the creature, the chaos — until Wemmbu finally said, “I should go tell him.”
Parrot nodded. “Yeah. He needs to hear it.”
Wemmbu turned and headed back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time now, urgency replacing the heaviness from before.
Flame was exactly where he’d left him — sitting on the floor, back against the wall, hands clasped tightly in his lap. His eyes snapped up the second Wemmbu entered, wide and terrified.
Wemmbu knelt in front of him.
“Flame,” he said softly. “He’s okay.”
Flame’s breath hitched. “He—he is?”
“He’s awake,” Wemmbu said, smiling gently. “He’s talking. He’s stable. Parrot did everything right. He’s going to be okay.”
Flame’s eyes filled instantly, tears spilling over before he could stop them. He let out a shaky, broken breath — half‑sob, half‑relief — and pressed a hand over his mouth.
Wemmbu placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “He wants to see you.”
That was all Flame needed.
Flame didn’t walk down the stairs so much as fall down them in slow motion.
His legs were still trembling, his breaths uneven, his mind a fragile, buzzing mess. Every step felt like it might give out beneath him. His hand dragged along the railing, knuckles white, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
He could hear voices before he saw anything.
Soft ones.
Tired ones.
Ones that didn’t sound like panic anymore.
But he didn’t trust it.
He didn’t trust anything.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he reached the bottom step. He hesitated there, frozen, staring into the grand room like it was a doorway to something he wasn’t sure he could face.
Then he stepped forward.
The room opened up around him — the bloodstains, the towels, the shattered window, the bucket, the chaos still lingering in the air like smoke after a fire.
But all Flame saw was the couch.
Lomedy.
Alive.
Propped up on pillows, pale and exhausted, but awake. Talking. Breathing. Smiling faintly at something Theo said.
Flame’s breath caught so sharply it hurt.
His feet moved before he realized he was walking.
Then he was walking faster.
Then faster.
The others noticed him.
Theo looked up first, eyes widening.
Egg straightened, wiping his face.
Mapicc shifted aside instinctively.
Parrot stepped back without a word.
Spoke moved out of the way, giving Flame a clear path.
No one said anything.
No one stopped him.
They just parted around him like water around a stone.
Flame crossed the room in seconds, but it felt like miles.
When he reached the couch, he didn’t speak. He didn’t think. He didn’t breathe.
He just dropped to his knees beside Lomedy and wrapped his arms around him so fast Lomedy barely had time to react.
Flame buried his face in Lomedy’s shoulder, gripping him like he was afraid he’d disappear if he let go. His breath hitched, a broken, desperate sound.
“Are you okay?” Flame whispered, voice cracking. “Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you—”
Lomedy let out a soft, tired laugh, leaning into him. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Flame. I promise.”
Flame shook his head, pulling him closer, tears slipping down his cheeks. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Lomedy smiled weakly. “Yeah… I scared myself too.”
Flame let out a shaky breath that was half a sob, half a laugh. He didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Not yet.
The others watched quietly — not intruding, not interrupting — just letting Flame have this moment he so desperately needed.
And for the first time since the creature vanished…
Flame felt like he could breathe again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house felt too full.
Too loud, even in its silence.
Too heavy with everything that had just happened.
So when Lomedy finally drifted into a light, exhausted sleep and Flame stayed beside him, hand resting gently on the couch cushion, the others slipped outside onto the porch — not to leave, not to escape, but to breathe.
The night air was cool, brushing against their skin like a reminder that the world outside hadn’t shattered the way their insides had. The porch light flickered softly, casting long shadows across the wooden boards.
Egg sat on the steps, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.
Theo leaned against the railing, arms crossed tightly.
Mapicc paced in slow, uneven lines, still too wired to sit still.
Spoke hovered near the door, glancing back inside every few seconds.
Parrot stood a little apart from all of them.
Not far — just enough that the distance felt intentional. He was facing the yard, hands gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were white. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, his wings pulled tight against his back.
He didn’t look like the calm, commanding leader from earlier.
He looked like someone holding himself together by threads.
Wemmbu noticed first.
He nudged Spoke gently, and the two of them walked over to Parrot, stopping beside him without saying anything at first. They just stood there, letting the quiet settle around them.
After a long moment, Spoke asked softly, “What’s on your mind?”
Parrot didn’t answer right away.
He kept staring out at the dark yard, eyes unfocused, as if he was afraid that if he blinked, something else would come crawling out of the shadows.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Rough. Honest.
“We almost lost someone today.”
Wemmbu and Spoke exchanged a glance.
Parrot swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the railing. “I don’t… I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
There was something in the way he said it — something heavy, something old, something the others didn’t understand yet. A history they hadn’t heard. A wound they hadn’t seen.
Wemmbu opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t push. He didn’t pry. He just stood there, offering quiet presence instead of questions.
Parrot exhaled shakily. “Our group isn’t enough.”
Spoke frowned. “What do you mean?”
Parrot finally turned to look at them, eyes tired and raw. “We need more people. People who can fight. People who can cook. People who can help if something like this happens again. People who can protect the others if some of us…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “If some of us aren’t here.”
Wemmbu’s wings twitched. “Parrot…”
“I’m serious,” Parrot said, voice firm but trembling at the edges. “We can’t keep doing this with just us. We need more hands. More eyes. More everything.”
Spoke nodded slowly. “Okay. So… who?”
Parrot looked back out at the yard, the night stretching endlessly in front of them.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But someone. Anyone. We can’t be the only ones left.”
Behind them, the door creaked open.
Flame stepped out, closing it softly behind him. His eyes were still red, but his breathing was steady now. He walked over to the group, joining them at the railing.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.
Wemmbu answered for them. “We’re talking about getting more people.”
Flame blinked, processing that. “More people?”
Parrot turned to him fully, expression serious. “Do you know anyone? Anyone at all who might still be alive?”
Flame hesitated — not because he didn’t understand, but because the question felt so big, so heavy, so final.
Parrot didn’t let the silence stretch.
He stepped closer, voice steady, resolute, carrying the weight of everything they’d just survived.
“Call anyone. Get in contact with somebody you know that may still be alive, and get them here.”