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The Golden Guard… Guards did not run from fights. Probably. They were built to face adversity head on, most of the time intimidating troublemakers into submission before any futile violence even needed to happen. They were cool like that. Safe to bet, all of them probably faced their own horrific ends with admirable, stoic dignity. At least, that was what anyone would like to believe. The Golden Guards were untouchable.
Hunter, on the other hand… was sixteen and a coward and so, so dumb.
He was terrified. He knew that he was absolute toast, straight up going to die if he didn't get away from it all right now, and honestly?
He was beginning to suspect the rest felt no different when their time came.
Hunter’s boots hit the dirt hard as he ran, far enough for Luz’s screams to fade into the night. Hopefully far enough for her to make the smart decision and give up on him. He kept running, far enough that Flapjack lagged further and further behind, though without ever calling it quits. Good. He was never letting the bird out of his sight again. They ran, far enough that Hunter could no longer feel his feet.
Still not far enough.
The thicket grew denser as the forest closed in around him. He dashed through the first few messes of branches before it hit him that he was surrounded. His legs froze up, and he dropped to his knees. Barely breathing, he brought a trembling hand up to ease the sharp pain on his face. The glove came away covered in wood splinters. An entire forest’s worth of scratches, and what did he have to show for it? Titan, he couldn’t even bleed properly. He attempted to stand, but the foliage around him had other ideas.
I’m dead. His heart once again did that thing where it threatened to beat out of his chestplate. I’m going to die like all the others. He curled up on the dirt floor, wishing it would swallow him whole. There was no way he was getting out of this. It’s not enough that I’m going to die, it has to be at the hands of--
A warm bundle softly brushed against his cheek. Flapjack settled on Hunter’s shoulder. He said nothing, clearly waiting for Hunter to talk first.
“I…” Hunter sat up slowly. His eyes stung as he tried to force words out. “We need to leave, but…”
He trailed off. Realizing who he was talking to, he started to laugh, and the tears fell. Laughing hurt, but what else did he have left to do? Flapjack hovered in front of his face, staring at him with vague concern. Hunter only laughed more.
“I am… such an idiot!” he managed to say, in between shallow breaths. “Where am I even running? You! You’re right here!”
Hunter extended an open arm. Flapjack finally got the message and shifted into staff form, accompanied by the golden glow. With more fervor than needed, Hunter ripped through the forest canopy. He gripped the staff tight and willed it to blast off into the sky, but it would not cooperate.
“What are you waiting for?” Hunter kicked at the ground, as if that alone would be enough to propel them into the air. “We have to go!”
Flapjack let out a high pitched whistle, containing a piercing question Hunter wished he could answer.
“I… I don’t know where, okay?” he admitted. “Does it matter? Just… away! If he finds us, I’m done for, and Titan only knows what he’ll do to you and--”
Another question, far more annoying.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course I’m up for this right now!” he snapped, doing his level best to ignore how his shaking hands betrayed him. “I’ll be fine. I was literally born for this. You need to stay in your lane and do your job, or however this ends is gonna be on you!”
Silence. Hunter could have sworn he saw the bird’s wings drop for a second. Guilt shot through him.
“Hey, look, I didn’t…” He stopped himself. True as it was that he didn’t mean it, that if anything went south it would be his fault, not Flapjack’s, that the heap of dead smoking palismans haunted him relentlessly… another argument was the last thing they needed. Now wasn’t the time. The most important task was leaving. He sighed. “Forget it. Let’s just go. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
With that, they took flight under the cover of the dark, clouded sky. The path ahead was obscured by mist, but at least it was far removed from the suffocating mess below. The force of the wind forced Hunter’s eyes shut. At least his hands steadied themselves and his heart slowed down.
All the way down.
This… may have been a bad idea.
~~
Hunter woke up screaming, images of his predecessors’ graveyard still being branded into his mind. Flapjack was at his side in an instant, singing his usual reassurances. Hunter patted the bird’s head as acknowledgement and forced himself up, fully ready to laugh and dismiss the entire night’s events as simply the most messed up dream possible.
But he wasn’t in his room. It was night. He was propped against a tree, in his armor, which was digging into him harder than usual for some reason. Flapjack picked leaves out of his hair and… oh no. No way in hell. This could not be happening.
What were they still doing in the forest?
“Oh, that’s it, you little--” He held Flapjack right up to his face. “Why? We had a whole plan thing going!”
The answer didn’t contain the slightest hint of regret.
“It was… a reasonable basis for a later plan, at least!” Hunter went on, mostly undeterred. “So what if I passed out mid-air? You think this is the time to talk about safety? We’ll see what the bigger safety hazard is when you hear about the--”
Voices whispered nearby, startling Hunter into silence. Flapjack opened his mouth to talk, but Hunter held up a hand.
“Not a word,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. We can still make it out if we--”
An interruption. Far calmer than the situation demanded.
“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? What--” His heart raced. “What have you done? No one is supposed to know! If we get--”
Flapjack pulled at the free strand of Hunter’s hair. Just listen, he begged.
“Fine!” Hunter said. “I’m listening. For a few seconds. After that, we’re getting out of here. No more stalling.”
Carefully, he stepped toward the clearing, following the hushed voices as Flapjack nestled into his hair. Hunter hoped this information would be worth the risk and time. Or else a certain pancake was going to get it.
“Choose your next words wisely, songbird.”
Hunter froze. There was no mistaking that voice. He couldn't help it, he peeked out from behind a shrub. Two robed figures stood; clearly from the trio of rebels Hunter was sent out to stop, from going into…
Stop, he told himself. Not now. He needed to know why Darius was there.
“You know I'm right. The kid is not okay,” another familiar voice answered. Raine too? Were they talking about him? “He needs to be kept safe.”
Darius nodded. “Precisely. Which is why I refuse to let him out of my--”
Raine interrupted him with a quick gesture at something nearby, and Darius let his hood fall. Only when the two looked directly in his direction did Hunter realize that he had completely forgotten about staying hidden. He’d been caught.
“There you are!” Darius approached with a smile. “I’ve been--”
“No. Stay away!” Hunter stepped back, only to trip on his own feet. “Please. I don’t know what you’re all up to, but you can’t take me back there!”
Darius’ smile faded. “Hunter, it’s alright.” He held an arm forward to help him up. Hunter did not take it. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”
“And no one’s taking you back to the castle,” Raine said pointedly, with a glance at Darius. “That would be helping no one.”
Hunter stood and dusted himself off, finally taking in the silent conversation between Raine and Darius. “Since when has this been happening? Whose side are you two on?”
“Not the side you know us to be, clearly,” Darius said with a laugh. “A lot happens behind palace walls without your awareness.”
“I… yeah,” Hunter said quietly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. So much happened, and was likely continuing to happen, without his knowledge. Rebellions, power plays, cloning… He blinked back tears. Not now.
Darius placed a hand on his shoulder. “Through no fault of your own, of course,” he said. “Listen, we’re here to--”
“You knew,” Hunter said, pulling away. “Is that why? The previous Golden Guard, and you… when you said--”
Darius didn’t have to answer. His refusal to meet Hunter’s eyes said it all.
“You can’t stay here for much longer,” Raine said. “Eberwolf is on watch right now, but scouts will be raiding this area any moment. Have you thought of a good place to hide?”
“I’ve… been trying.” He glared upward. “Would have succeeded by now if someone let me make any progress.”
Flapjack protested the accusation loudly. Hunter ignored him, racking his brain over an actual place to hide now that a plan was being forcibly wrangled out of him.
“This is ridiculous,” Darius said. “He’ll be safest with us.”
“What exactly about our current position looks ‘safe’ to you?” Raine asked, unamused. “I swear, you haven’t changed a bit. This is just like school when--”
“School!” Hunter piped up. “Hexside, that’s it! I need to…” Without him having to say anything else, Flapjack appeared as a staff in his hand. He was tempted to ask where this perceptiveness was a few hours ago, but now that he had a destination, he no longer cared. “Okay. We’re doing this. Do… either of you know of a place I can be away from. You know, anyone?”
Darius raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to school, aren’t you better off getting help from your--”
“The auditorium,” Raine interrupted mercifully. “No one will come and bother you if you find the right spot backstage.”
“That… is true,” Darius admitted. “And please, at least change. Do you seriously plan to wear that while on the run?”
“Right. Almost forgot.” Hunter’s staff did away with that awful chafing armor and left him in… oh. His flier derby uniform. Appropriate.
Darius looked him up and down. “Slightly better, I suppose.”
“Good luck,” Raine said.
Hunter shot off into the night once again without another word. The two meant well, but he was done tempting fate about good things happening to him. Now was not the time to be picky about the crumbs he was given.
~~
It was shockingly fortunate for Hunter that Hexside had abysmal security. No one was present to stop him as he snuck his way in. He should have been immediately making a break for the famous auditorium spot.
Instead, he broke into the school library.
Flapjack wasted no time in calling out Hunter’s apparent hypocrisy.
“Yeah, well. Back there, you were just trying to slow us down,” he reasoned, combing through the alchemy section bookshelves through the sparse light his palisman provided. “We’re in hiding now. So shut up. I can do what I want.”
A pause. Then, a question. What do you want?
“Right now?” He gave up pretending the search was anything meticulous, and yanked out every title on Grimwalkers his eyes caught. “Peace and quiet, mostly. Would be great if you let me have that.”
Hunter ignored the unsatisfied prodding that followed. Whatever else there was to say, it could be worked out later. Carrying his newly procured pile of five entire books, Hunter left the library. Just like that. Without even checking a single one out. He was becoming a shameless rebel now, after all. If this was his new life, he was better off getting used to it.
In the auditorium at long last, he holed himself up in a corner backstage. A few haphazardly placed cushions and it was practically home… as long as ‘home’ referred to the narrow rock crevice he had to inhabit during the mountain test.
He cracked open the first of his books. The one on Grimwalker extinction, morbidly enough. “Hey, could I get a little light?”
No reply. Hunter instinctively reached for his own shoulder. Empty.
“...Flapjack?” He stood. “Come on, this isn’t funny!”
Still nothing. Hunter’s heart pounded as he fumbled for the string to draw open the curtains. He scanned the area for any sign. Where did he lose the bird? How did he lose the bird? So much for safety in hiding. Titan, couldn’t he do anything right? It was all falling apart and he was going to--
Something heavy dropped on the floor beside, accompanied by a familiar weight on his shoulder.
“You scared me,” Hunter said, his voice breaking with relief as he took Flapjack in his hands. “Like, a lot. Don’t do that.”
An apology. Then, a gesture downwards.
“Oh.” Hunter bent down and untied the improvised curtain sack Flapjack had got him. Inside was… a respectable supply of unhealthy cafeteria snacks. The thought was so unbelievably sweet, he had to smile. He chose not to mention his earlier intention of testing whether he even needed food. “Thanks. Just, please don’t disappear like that again, okay? Stick with me.”
An agreement.
He dropped back into his little corner and held the book open to a random page. The gamble paid off, giving him a diagram of a desecrated grave, complete with a contorted, dried up wooden husk of a creature crawling out of it, simply labeled “successful”. It was juxtaposed with a diagram beside it, where the grave only contained an unremarkable pile of bones, labeled “failed”.
Hunter let out a bitter laugh. In a luckier world, he could have been the latter.
He forced himself to read further and not think about how uncomfortable the dusty corner was compared to his bed. Or how he left all his journals behind. Or how his uncle was maybe not all that bad if leaving him meant living like this, and… as soon as Hunter let that thought surface, a million louder ones drowned it out, refusing to let him forget everything he’d seen.
The text swam together as Hunter’s vision blurred over with unwanted tears, but despite it all he still found himself detachedly wondering what workings of his artificial body simulated that function. Flapjack nuzzled in close next to his face, patiently providing him every bit of comfort possible.
“I’m okay,” Hunter managed to say, in an attempt to speak it into existence so the crying would stop. “Hey, is it… a little chilly in here? I could’ve sworn it wasn’t this cold just a few hours ago, and--” He stopped himself when it dawned on him. Of course he felt the autumn cold more now. He buried his face in his hands. “Stupid fucking cloak…”
Flapjack sprang into action, taking the piece of discarded curtain in his mouth and dragging it with considerable effort toward Hunter. He dropped it so it covered Hunter’s legs. Rest, he said.
“What, now? But I did, literally just an hour ago! Besides, I need to--”
No.
“I swear, you’re impossible sometimes,” Hunter said, begrudgingly accepting the curtain blanket. “Happy now?”
Satisfaction.
Hunter could not bring himself to stay mad. He ripped open a packet of hex mix and shoveled a fistful into his mouth, while also tossing grains forward so the bird could catch. Poor thing hadn’t eaten for hours. Giving the usual routine up, Hunter simply left an easy stash on the floor for Flapjack to pick at.
“Tell me,” Hunter said, through a mouthful of snacks, “are we going to be stuck like this now?”
A shrug. No answer. Continued eating.
“Yeah, fair.” Hunter leaned back against the cushions. “We don’t get to decide, do we? Never have. Not about to start now.”
An objection. We started today.
“Was that really a decision, though?” he argued. “You’re like. Magically bound to me or whatever, of course you followed. And I ran. I didn’t choose anything.”
Bemused frustration, as if Hunter was missing the most obvious thing in the world. You chose to live.
“Wow,” Hunter said, unimpressed. “You know, you have depressingly low standards. If you think that counts for anything, your old witches must have been really disappointing.”
Flapjack, predictably, ignored the comment and curled up beside Hunter. The only response he bothered to spare Hunter was a simple Love you.
“I… yeah,” Hunter said, failing to keep his voice even. “I love you too.”
That marked the end of the fruitless conversation, and also the entire day. He could partition it off and pretend to start over now.
~~
Early next morning, Hunter retreated to the broom closet as soon as he heard people filing in outside. He set himself to the task of examining the mirror closely, through the light provided by his staff.
He could now rattle off the components that made up a Grimwalker by heart. Running through his mental checklist, Hunter confirmed every item with the image in front of him.
Unsettlingly bright pink eyes? Check. A layer of selkidomus scales, resistant to damage? Oh yeah, explained a lot about everything he’d successfully weathered. Galderstone heart and stonesleeper lungs? Most likely, though the way they were acting lately made him suspect they were defective. Palistrom wood? He glanced at his staff and smiled. Yet another thing they had in common. All there so far. Resemblance to the body used for the process? No real way to know, except…
“Out of all the Grimwalkers, you look the most like him.”
Whoever “him” was. He shook the thought off. Not now.
What else did Hunter have that was vaguely notable? There was that scar from the time when one of Belos’ “accidents” struck him and he didn’t notice till it hit. And that other time he did notice but didn’t move out of the way fast enough. And of course, the several times he stopped bothering and let them come because if he messed up badly enough to upset his only family, he probably deserved it and--
Hunter turned away, pulling the shoddily stitched curtain cloak tighter around himself to hide the marks.
It was so obvious in hindsight. He should have known. Not once did Belos’ strikes make him bleed. To think, Hunter’s excuse was that they weren’t that serious, because none of them cut deep enough.
He assumed Belos must have cared enough to hold back, even in that condition.
Titan, he was stupid.
He kicked open the broom closet door and rushed back to his stage corner with Flapjack following close behind. He buried himself back in his heap of hoarded belongings, trying to convince his heart to calm down. He wished the students outside would be quieter. Every noise outside made him think they found him and if that didn’t stop soon, he’d have good reason to regret choosing this place even more.
Flapjack asked if he wanted breakfast.
“Sure,” he said, barely thinking. “Might as well.”
It only hit him when Flapjack started to leave.
“Wait!” he called. “If you’re not back in two minutes, I’m going to do something really dumb. You better not make me.”
A reassurance. Then, he flew off.
Hunter knew this miserable state was the only thing left for him. The best he could do now? Survive. Count down the hours before the coven found him there too. Conduct unsuccessful research with content he can barely stomach. Try to pretend to be a real person until the grave he dug for himself rotted away whatever was left of him.
So, the same things he’d been doing throughout his sorry, dubious life. Great.