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The night is still- far too still, in Punz’s opinion. It has a tension to it, the sort of stillness that screams danger . Everything is quiet- no crickets chirping, owls calling, leaves crunching as foxes dart through the underbrush. Just the almost-silent wind rustling through the trees, whispering as if in warning. Something is going to happen tonight, Punz is sure of it. Something important.
He paces back and forth in the small clearing where he and Sam had chosen to set up camp for the night. It’s tucked away in a small forest at the edge of a village; normally even small towns would be humming at night, but here it’s quiet. Too quiet. Sam had left to patrol the area, and Punz knows his partner can handle himself, but a part of him still worries. He can’t lose his only ally and friend- and if there’s another reason why he’s afraid for Sam, a reason tucked carefully away in the depths of his heart, it doesn’t matter.
Punz glances at the sky. It’s a clear night, and the moon is like a shining pearl amidst a blanket of stars. By its position, he guesses that time is approaching midnight. Sam should be back soon- and if he’s not in an hour, then Punz will have to go after him.
He continues to pace, his stomach fluttering with nerves. Too wrapped up in his racing thoughts and worries, he doesn’t hear Sam approaching. Then again, he rarely ever does. But one moment he’s alone, and the next there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Punz.”
Punz bites back a yelp and nearly jumps out of his own skin. “By all the gods, Sam,” he gasps. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry.” Sam’s eyes crinkle in the corners, a sure sign that he’s smiling beneath his mask. He sits cross-legged on the ground and begins to crack open a canteen of water. “No one’s in the vicinity. I swept the whole area, but it’s empty. We’re the only ones.”
“That’s good.” Punz blows out a breath and sits down next to Sam. Without meaning to, he lets his eyes flick to the shine of Sam’s dark-colored hair under the moonlight. Some part of him yearns to reach out and feel the silky strands between his fingers, but he shoves the urge away. There’s no time for that, and even if there was, it’s not like Punz can exactly do that.
Sam takes a swig of the water, then opens a small pouch and scoops out a handful of sweet berries. He offers the pouch to Punz; Punz takes it and gives one of the berries a careful nibble. Not nearly as sweet as he would like, but he doesn’t exactly have the luxury of being picky. Still, he resolves to go hunting tomorrow and see if he can’t catch a rabbit. Anything would be better than slightly sour berries.
“Where are we heading tomorrow?” he asks as he forces down a few more berries.
“South again, I suppose,” Sam replies. “Away.” The rest of the sentence goes unspoken- away from the Church. Away from their mistakes, from Phil’s wrath and the people chasing them.
Punz sighs. “Yeah. Away.” He glances at Sam. “When are we going to be far enough?”
“When we can see the southern sky, I suppose,” his partner murmurs, tipping his head back to gaze at the stars. “When we can smell the sea breeze and admire the jasmine flowers.”
“Those are in the west, you idiot.”
“Oh. My bad.” Sam gives a sheepish chuckle, and Punz’s chest warms with fondness. “Well, the other things, then. We just go until we’re safe.”
“Why’d we agree to that mission, anyways? Why did we listen to Wilbur?” Punz mutters as he pokes the ground with a stick. He’d forgotten his frustration for a few hours while they were traveling, but now it comes rushing back. Everything had been fine until they’d gone on that stupid mission from Wilbur. In hindsight, Punz supposes that they should’ve looked into their targets first. Then again, Wilbur shouldn’t have sent them to kill an allied group.
That stupid idiot and his stupid hair , Punz thinks, jabbing his stick into the ground. Now he and Sam have a group of angry hitmen after them, wanting to kill them for hurting their leader. Curse Wilbur for sending them to do that. Phil is probably livid now, too, so even if they weren’t being chased, Punz and Sam wouldn’t be able to return to the Church anyways.
Next to him, Sam sighs and drops his head into his arms. “Why did we listen to Wilbur?” His voice is muffled. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Well, he is the leader,” Punz points out. “How were we supposed to know?”
“Why did he send us after the Gormans, though? Didn’t he know we had a truce with their leader?”
“Knowing Wilbur, he probably didn’t.” Punz stabs the stick harder into the earth. “If we ever go back, I’m gonna kill that idiot. He’s screwed us over.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” Sam bumps his shoulder into Punz’s, ever-optimistic. Sometimes, Punz wonders how his partner manages to cling onto that cheerfulness. They’re on the run from a group of people who want to kill them, unable to even return home because their own leaders are probably furious- but Sam still has room for optimism. It’s startling- and quite frankly a little endearing.
“We got this,” Sam continues. “We just gotta lay low for a while. It’s not like it was even our fault. Phil will calm down, the others will find out it was Wilbur, and we’ll be allowed back.”
Punz snorts. “Phil? Calm down? Doubtful.” But he takes a deep breath and lets it fill his lungs, loosening the tight frustration in his chest. Things will be fine. They just need to stay alive until the other Head Blades figure out that it was Wilbur’s plan, and then they can go back and everything will be normal again. Easy-peasy.
With a sigh, he allows himself to slump forward. “Gods above, I’m exhausted.”
“You sleep, then,” his partner says, already settling in and drawing his draggers. “I’ll keep first watch.”
“Thanks,” Punz murmurs. He curls up, flipping his hood over his head and resting it on the earth. It’s nowhere near the soft, downy pillow he had back at the Church, but it’ll do. He’ll be up in a few hours for second watch anyways.
He closes his eyes, but even as he begins to drift off, he still can’t shake the eerie stillness- the humming sense that something is about to happen.
---
Punz feels like he’d just closed his eyes when he’s shaken awake by Sam for second watch. With the moon starting to dip lower in the sky, he drags himself to a sitting position and places his axe in his lap, just in case. Sam curls up on the ground next to him, and Punz can’t help but let his eyes stray- watching the gentle rise and fall of his friend’s chest, the way some of his dark hair falls out of his hood. His mask is still tucked over his nose, but he looks peaceful.
For a long while, Punz just sits there and allows himself to stare like he wouldn’t be able to if Sam were awake. A part of him is embarrassed about it, but the rest of him doesn’t care. Besides, he tells himself, he’s just watching out for Sam, like a good friend. Yeah.
Slowly, the sky begins to lighten. The horizon turns a shade of rosy pink as the moon disappears below and the sun emerges, casting its golden, early-morning light over the clearing. Punz lets it warm his back as he gently shakes Sam awake. “C’mon, buddy. Time to go.”
They pack what little they have, eat the rest of the berries, then set off again. Punz’s legs still ache a little from yesterday, but he and Sam have no choice but to keep moving. If they stop for even one day, then their hunters could be upon them- and as much as Punz loves a good fight, he doesn’t fancy the odds of a 2v20.
For a long while they walk in silence, occasionally taking swigs from their water canteens. They wind their way through the thick oak forest, stepping over rotting logs and patches of mushrooms. The oak forest blends into a dark oak one, and Punz shivers slightly as the trees turn the color of chocolate, their branches stretching wide enough for the jade green leaves to nearly block out the sun. “I hate dark oak forests.”
“They’re spooky, aren’t they?” Sam whispers, brushing his hair out of his face. “Too many places to hide.”
With amazing comedic timing- so comedic that Punz might’ve laughed- a twig snaps nearby. Punz immediately whirls around, his axe in hand. Sam draws two daggers and takes position behind Punz, their backs to each other. Punz can hear their breathing synced, feel the warmth of Sam’s back pressed against his own. It gives him confidence even as his palms begin to sweat around the hilt of his axe. He scans the surrounding trees, keeping his eyes and ears open. A fox? A wolf? Or something more sinister?
He can feel his own heart thumping nervously in his chest, adrenaline racing through his veins. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary- no movement in the trees, no more crunching of twigs. Just the gentle rustling of the leaves.
Punz slowly, slowly lowers his axe. “I think it was just an animal.”
“Yeah,” Sam whispers. He steps away, and then-
Whoosh .
Punz’s instincts are what save him. He tucks into a roll, and the throwing star flies over his head. Sam, however, is a little too slow- the star clips his shoulder and snags the fabric of his cloak, pinning it to a tree trunk.
A slender guy steps out from behind a tree, clutching another throwing star in each hand. He has blonde curls and sharp, clever green eyes that immediately lock onto Punz. He’s wearing a dark green cloak with the hood down and a pair of tall black boots; strapped to his thighs are long daggers. Hanging from his waist is a diamond axe, and criss-crossed on his back are two hook swords.
The guy smirks at Punz. “Hello, gorgeous.” And then he lunges. The throwing stars in his hands flash as he launches them, one after the other. Punz dodges the first one, but the second slices through his sleeve, just barely missing his skin.
He grips his axe tightly, his heart pounding in his chest, and ducks into another roll, aiming to slice at his attacker’s calves. But the guy easily flips over his head, landing with a thud. Punz spins around, still on his knees, and he and the guy stare at each other for a moment, analyzing.
There’s a flash of movement from behind the guy in the green cloak. Sam had managed to extract himself from the tree. His arm is spotted with blood, but he’s still lightning fast as he draws two daggers and throws them at the blonde’s back. Somehow, the guy dodges both. With one fluid movement, he produces another throwing star and whips around, launching it at Sam.
But Sam snags it out of the air with the tip of a dagger and launches it back. It just barely misses their attacker, and he smirks. “Is that all you got? And here I thought I was being sent after the best assassins in the land.”
“Oh, you little-” Punz mutters, scowling. He can take three arrows to the arm and a knife to the leg, but a blow to his ego? Unacceptable. New energy rushes through his veins, and he leaps at the mysterious assailant, ready to end this fight.
The blonde turns to meet him, axe in hand. Their blades meet, and Punz grits his teeth as the force of the collision sends jarring pain down his arm. He puts all his weight into his axe, and his attacker is forced a few steps back.
It occurs to Punz, suddenly, that the boots his attacker is wearing have rather high heels- which means that Punz has the height and strength advantage here. In hand to hand combat, then, he can easily win. He just needs to keep this weirdly agile guy from slipping away.
He swings again, and their axes meet with a clang. For a moment they stay there, a fight of wills, neither able to overpower the other. The hitman’s eyes (he surely must be a hitman; no proper assassin fights with such flair) meet Punz’s over their crossed blades, and Punz is suddenly struck by how green they are- the same color as polished emeralds in the sun.
Then his opponent’s axe dips lower, and Punz is sucked into the familiar rhythm of battle. He dodges his attacker’s blows, occasionally meeting them with his own. As the guy steps to the side, Punz spots an opportunity and darts in, slashing his axe at his opponent’s calf. But the guy digs his axe into his ground and uses it to vault over Punz’s head yet again. “Missed me,” he calls tauntingly.
Punz curses, his cheeks heating. What is this guy made of, water? Punz had gone through a lot of training to prepare himself for his assassin career, but he’s never faced anyone as effortlessly agile as this guy. Not even Sam, and Sam is about as slippery as they get.
Speaking of Sam- Punz’s partner suddenly leaps out from behind a tree and throws a dagger, hard, at the blonde guy’s chest. In one swift movement, the guy unsheathes his two swords. Punz gets a glimpse of the strange hooks on the end before the guy snags the dagger out of the air and chucks it back at Sam. Sam leaps to the side and crouches, two more daggers appearing in his hands, his eyes narrowed. Punz’s heart does a strange jump at the sight, but he tears his gaze away and focuses on his opponent.
He quickly assesses the situation. He still has his axe, as well as the crossbow at his hip and the sword on his back- though he’s not sure how much use the crossbow will be against someone who can bend around missiles like sugarcane in the breeze. Sam has his daggers as well- there’s at least a few left- but he’s bleeding from his shoulder still. Their attacker, meanwhile, is still standing uninjured and confident. His axe is at his feet now; Punz has never seen swords like the ones the guy is holding before, but he can’t deny that they look scary.
Punz glances at Sam, who gives him a barely perceptible nod. They need to work together or they’ll never stand a chance.
“Well? Are you going to get me? Or are you just going to stand there?” the guy calls, a smirk on his face. He has freckles, Punz suddenly realizes- a smattering of them across his cheeks and nose. Cute , Punz thinks idly, his neck warm. Then he scowls and shoves that thought away. What the hell, Punz, he’s literally trying to kill you. Focus, you nimwit .
He glances at Sam again. His partner takes the hint and lunges at the guy, his daggers flashing silver. Sam rolls between the hitman’s legs and slashes at his thigh; the blonde just barely manages to leap out of the way. One of his swords comes swinging down, and Sam rolls to the side, blocking the sword with one of his daggers.
“I’ll give it to you,” the hitman says, smirking down at Sam. “You’re faster than your friend.”
Punz snarls under his breath and pulls out his crossbow, loading it and aiming. His finger rests on the trigger, ready to pull- but before he can, the hitman lashes out with his sword and snags Punz’s crossbow out of his hand.
“Sorry,” the guy says, his eyes gleaming, “but I like my games up close and personal.”
Fine , Punz thinks, feeling a surge of anger. If that’s how you want to play . He yanks his sword from its sheath and lunges forward. At the same time, Sam leaps to his feet and jabs his dagger at the hitman’s chest.
But even pinned between Punz and Sam, the guy somehow dodges again . He hooks the tip of his sword around Punz’s, forcing Punz’s sword down, then launches himself over Punz’s head. Sam throws his dagger; it only barely clips the hitman’s shoulder, leaving only a thin cut in the fabric of his cloak.
The hitman doesn’t even blink. He spins around, leaps gracefully around Punz, and runs straight at Sam, pulling a coil of rope from his waist as he does so. The rope lashes out and snags Sam’s ankle, yanking him to the ground. It swings at Punz next, but Punz dodges it and lunges as fast as he can at the hitman, forcing his opponent to block his strike.
As they’re struggling, Sam leaps to his feet and slashes his dagger across the hitman’s calf, making the first proper cut. Punz sees his opponent’s confident stance falter just briefly, but it’s enough for him to shove forward with all his strength and knock the hitman backwards. The hitman staggers, pants stained with blood, and crosses both swords in front of him in a defensive position.
“Not so confident now, are you?” Punz mutters under his breath. He didn’t think the hitman could hear, but the blonde smirks.
“Why don’t you come and get me, then?” he coos, his swords flashing in the sunlight. “Come on. I thought you were scary assassins.”
“Do you ever stop talking?” Punz snaps before he can stop himself. He tightens his grip on his sword and attacks again.
“I’ve hardly talked at all, but if you like my voice so much, I can keep going,” his opponent purrs, blocking his strike, green eyes locking with his. They flash prettily as the sun shifts through the leaves, and Punz stares for just a bit too long. The next thing he knows, he’s staggering backwards as pain shoots up his thigh.
The hitman smirks, his sword stained red with Punz’s blood. “Come on now. You’re an assassin. I thought you’d know better than to stare for too long.”
Dammit , Punz curses himself. What the hell are you doing? Why had he let himself get distracted by a pair of pretty eyes? Now there’s a gash in his thigh and a limp in his step. No way can he win a fight like this.
But he’s not alone. Sam suddenly appears behind the hitman, his daggers glinting. He’s near silent as he lunges, and the hitman is too slow in turning around. One of Sam’s daggers catches him in the arm; the other grazes his side. He winces ever so slightly and backs up, his swords crossed again.
“What happened to not staring for too long?” Punz mocks. His crossbow is lying on the ground nearby; he uses his foot to flip it up and catches it out of the air. He aims it at the hitman, one finger on the trigger, ready to fire. “Any last words?”
For a moment his opponent is silent; blades still crossed defensively, blood dripping from his side, eyes flicking back and forth between Punz and Sam, who's crouching nearby with his daggers drawn. Then, slowly, the hitman smiles- the grin of a fox, or a cat that's just caught its prey. “Yeah. Don’t get confident in your victory so easily.”
With one swift movement, he kicks Sam in the stomach, knocking the brunette to the ground, and pulls out something small and metallic- a grappling hook. He tosses it at a branch arcing over their heads, and it latches on, yanking him up.
Punz fires, but his shot goes wide. The hitman pulls himself up onto the branch and balances there. From a hidden pocket in his cloak, he pulls out a small green orb and chucks it up through the thick canopy of leaves.
“He’s ender pearling!” Sam shouts, throwing one of his daggers. The hitman knocks it out of the air with one of his swords, then sheathes it and salutes sarcastically. A moment later he’s gone, grappling hook and all; the only thing that remains is a few purple particles floating where he was.
“God dammit,” Punz snarls, clenching his fists in frustration. “We almost had him!”
Sam walks over, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Who was that?”
“Someone who wanted to kill us, clearly.” Punz sits down heavily and fumbles for the bandages he keeps in his cloak. “Should we go after him?”
“Why would we go chasing after someone who can kill us?”
“He’s injured!”
“And he could probably still run circles around us. You saw those moves.” Sam begins walking around the area, yanking the daggers that he’d thrown out of trees and the ground. He pauses by the tree he’d been pinned to when the battle first started; there’s a throwing star lying on the ground.
“Can I see that?” Punz asks.
Sam carries it over and hands it to Punz. Punz turns it over in his hand, examining it. The edges are razor sharp, the little wings engraved with elegant loops. It’s heavy, but not overwhelmingly so- the perfect weight to be thrown with accuracy.
Punz shakes his head. “He had these, an axe, those weird swords, and a grappling hook. Seriously, who’s his supplier? I need to talk to them.”
Sam laughs, and that singular sound- light and familiar- expels some of the tension in Punz’s chest. He sighs, slumping as exhaustion hits him with the force of a ravager. It’s been so long since he’d fought a truly difficult opponent that he’d forgotten the pure exhaustion that follows a battle. Now that the adrenaline's gone, he just feels like curling up and passing out.
He turns the throwing star over in his palm again. “I wonder if he’ll come back,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
His friend casts him a questioning look. “Do you want him to come back?”
“No!” Punz yelps, his cheeks flushing. Except maybe he does- purely because that guy was a worthy opponent, though. Not for any other reason involving pretty green eyes and messy blonde curls.
He tears off a strip of gauze and presses it to the cut on his thigh, trying to soak up some of the bleeding. “I’m just wondering if he’ll try to kill us again, that’s all.” Sam raises an eyebrow at him, and he scowls, blushing. “Fine, and maybe I do kind of want to fight him again.”
Sam shakes his head. “It was a good fight. But I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who was so hard to beat.”
“You’re just too good, huh,” Punz teases.
“I never said that.” Sam grins sheepishly as he pulls off his shirt and begins to wrap the cut on his shoulder. Punz quickly averts his eyes, his neck warm, his heart beating a little harder in his chest. By all the gods, what is wrong with him? He’s got to stop doing this. He’s an assassin, for the gods’ sake, not some schoolboy with a crush on his friend.
He begins to wrap his own injuries as Sam keeps talking. “My point is, it was a good fight. I’m just not sure I want to repeat it. That guy was scary. And he was obviously trying to kill us.”
“But there’s only one of him,” Punz points out. “There’s two of us.”
“And he still managed to get us pretty good.”
“True,” Punz sighs. He eyes the throwing star, lying on the ground next to him. “If he does come back, though, I’m gonna get him with his own star.”
Sam laughs quietly. “I believe in you.”
They finish wrapping their injuries in silence. Sam cleans the blood from his daggers as Punz turns the throwing star in his hand again, tracing his fingers along the engraved lines. His mind goes back to the fight- to that hitman, his movements like water, vaulting over Punz’s head like it was nothing. Punz almost wants another fight just to see him do it again, see him practically fly through the air with all the grace of a bird.
Punz scowls and shakes the thought from his head. If he wants another fight, it’s only for a rematch, a chance to rightfully beat that hitman up. Not for any other reason. Certainly not to admire those graceful moves, the ease with which he used those swords and throwing stars, the way his eyes caught the sunlight.
I need a good, strong punch in the face , Punz thinks as he tucks the throwing star away and stands up. “Come on,” he says to Sam. “We should go.”
His friend nods and gets to his feet. Together they continue their way through the woods, walking in silence. The only sound is the twigs snapping beneath their feet and the wind rustling through the leaves, whispering softly.
After a while, Sam speaks up. "Do you think he's working with the Gormans? Trying to kill us?"
Punz rubs a thumb over the inside pocket of his cloak, feeling the sharp edges of the throwing star through the fabric.
"I don't know," he says. "But I have a feeling we'll be seeing him again soon."