Chapter Text
“Sir, we found someone by the southern edge of our territory!”
Prowl looked up sharply at the scout’s cry. Bumblebee was standing just inside the tent, flap still held in his hand as he delivered his brief report. “Someone? Do you have more specific details?”
“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t. Sideswipe sent a runner with the information but hasn’t returned to camp yet.”
“Which runner?” Prowl stood and reached for his cloak. A moment later he added his rank sigil, just to be certain the trespasser would know exactly who they were dealing with. Very few on the plains would dare to test the chief of the Praxian tribe.
“Bluestreak, sir. He says he can take you back as soon as he’s had a bit of fuel.”
“Excellent.” Prowl reached for his lantern and turned the wick down until the light extinguished. The oil it burned was too hard to acquire to leave it going while he was gone, even if he knew he could trust its safety to his cousin in the other room of the tent. “Smokescreen, I will return shortly. Please make certain that we are prepared for a guest. Or a prisoner. And alert the healers that they may be needed as well.”
“Yes, sir!” His cousin replied.
Prowl nodded and followed Bumblebee out into the night.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Over here, Prowl.” Bluestreak led him unerringly to the small formation of boulders that Sideswipe and his twin were crouched behind. Sunstreaker reached for the younger mech immediately, folding him into his arms and holding him against his chest in a possessive display that would have amused Prowl if they hadn’t been investigating someone who could be a threat to the tribe.
“Report, Sideswipe,” Prowl said softly.
“He’s over there,” Sideswipe said, extending a finger and pointing. Prowl followed the line of his gesture until he spotted a dark lump against the razor grass. “We spotted him just before he collapsed. Polyhexian, by frame and cloth. No rank markings. Probably a scout looking for new territory.”
“That does seem likely, but we will give him a chance to make his case before the elders.” Prowl stood, knowing that his white plating stood out sharply in the night. If the mech was simply faking his ailment, they would find out very quickly.
Nothing on the plains moved, not even the mech collapsed in the grass.
“We should make sure he’s dead,” Sunstreaker grumbled. “Better to be safe than invite a viper into our camp.”
“We will not murder him,” Prowl replied calmly, moving out from the shadow of the rocks. “Not even if he has been sent by our enemies to discover our weaknesses. We are better than that.”
“Right,” Bluestreak agreed. “What if we had done that when we found you two?”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Jazz came back to consciousness slowly, recognizing the flickering of a lamp before he realized he was hearing the sounds of a camp and not the laboring of his own systems. He stared at his immediate surroundings for a moment, trying to figure out who’s tent he had awakened in and why he didn’t remember getting there.
“Are you thirsty?” A strange voice asked in a heavily accented version of his tribe’s language.
With a start, everything came back to him and Jazz scrambled to put his back against the tent wall as he remember the attack by the Kaonites and his own people shooting him in the back as he ran for help.
“Please, do not be afraid.” The same gentle voice was accompanied by a black and white mech wearing a plain white waist cloth sliding into view. Elegant wings rose from the mech’s back and a simple charm dangled from his neck, indicating that he was someone of a high rank among this tribe. One of his hands was held up in a gesture that he thought was meant to indicate no harm, and the other was holding a small cup. “You are among the tribe of Praxus. You are safe.”
He had heard of the Praxian tribe, everyone had. They were nomads who roamed the prairies and traded carefully cultivated crystals and decorative goods for the things they couldn’t catch for themselves out in the wild. They had been to Polyhex once, when he was young and he had traded some candy to a Praxian youngling for a few beads. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere north of Polyhex. We can return you to your people if you wish.”
“No. I don’t…”
“I did not think you would want that. Our healers were very distressed by the injury to your back.” The black and white mech held out the cup again. “Are you thirsty?”
“Please.” Jazz let himself back down slightly and reached for the drink. It was liquid energon and was sweet as he drank it down. “Thank you. I don’t have a way to pay you back. I lost everything in Polyhex.”
“Your name will suffice, friend. You are a guest in my tent for the time being.”
He thought about giving a false name, but repaying his host with dishonesty was much more uncomfortable than it would have been before his own people betrayed him and sided with Megatron and the warriors from Kaon. “I’m called Jazz. I was a scout, before.”
“Welcome to Praxus, Jazz. I am Prowl, chieftain of the tribe of Praxus.” Prowl smiled, just a little, and Jazz let himself relax a bit more. If the Praxians were going to kill him, they wouldn’t have left him with their chief. “When you are ready, I would like to hear the story of what happened to your people.”
“Sure. Maybe over a little more of that sweet energon, if you have it to spare?” Maybe talking about it would help stave off the inevitable nightmares.