Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m tired,” Techno complains quietly, tugging on the skirt of his mother’s clothes.

She glances down at him shortly, face mostly obscured by the shadows of night. Her hands are occupied, relieving some of the weight of the baby strapped to her front. The birth of whom marked the time when Techno would have to start walking the entire time that the party does. Too big to be carried, since he's bigger than the baby.

It was fun at first. Now it’s getting closer to the cold months and they walk into the night. His face and hands are cold. His feet hurt. His father no longer indulges him to ride on his back.

His mother sighs, sounding tired too. Immediately, Techno’s stomach twists in guilt. He doesn’t mean to be trouble, but the moon is so high and every other step makes him trip with how heavy his legs are.

“Just a little longer,” His mother urges.

Stupidly, pressure builds up behind Techno’s eyes. He tries to blink it back quickly, tipping his face to the ground so that it can’t be seen. But that just allows gravity to free the tears onto the tops of his cheeks. He softly sniffles, nose scrunching at the saltiness.

His mother sighs again, now annoyed and tired. Swear it up and down, Techno’s trying to be good! But his lips are traitors and they wobble even when he valiantly holds back any cries.

“Sleep in the back of the cart, then. Be silent,” His mother says.

Rubbing the back of his hand across his face, Techno stumbles to keep up with his mother as she walks ahead. The topless cart is clicking behind the horse, carrying its own food, some supplies, and a dome shape covered by a blanket.

“Quick,” His mother scolds, leaning over.

She catches him under his arms, hoisting him with a soft groan. There’s a slight fall as he’s placed over the edge, but he swallows down the oof.

“Sleep, now,” His mother says, no nonsense.

As directed, Techno lays flat on his back. It’s not as comfortable as if they had stopped and set up bedrolls and tents. The wood below him is cold, too.

The exhaustion still pulls his eyes closed, just in time to see his mother’s retreating back. His father was waving her over. Now she’ll be scolded too, for indulging Techno. He rolls over and hugs his knees to his chest.

“Hello?” A soft voice asks, right by Techno’s ear.

The surprise makes him jolt, eyes popping open. But the sight of the blanket being lifted so that bits of the cage below it are shown has him squishing his eyes shut tightly again. 

“Hello?” The voice calls again, a smidge louder. “Please…”

“Quiet or you will be punished,” Techno whispers back.

For a moment it is quiet, and Techno thinks it worked. His brain starts to grow fuzzy, drifting off in the slight breeze that is chilling the tip of his nose numb.

Just barely, Techno feels the tips of fingers grace him.

He jolts, eyes snapping open and shifting backwards. The hybrid’s face is fully showing, pressed close to the cage with how they’re awkwardly reaching out to reach him. The tip of their nose is wrinkled up too, but twitching. Covered in soft brown fur to match the droopy ears on the top of their head.

The child is likely only a few years older than Techno, not even old enough to go on a real hunt. If hybrids go on hunts, that is. They probably hunt humans.

“Please,” The rabbit hybrid begs him, wide, wet eyes staring into Techno’s. “Help me. Just open the door, I’ll be quiet.”

They have the same shade of eyes as Techno, just about. Blue, but only technically. More like the color of the sky on a terrible winter day, warning of freezing snows to come. 

Techno’s eyes are the same color as the sky was the day his brother fell in the river and froze to death.

The hybrid weeps, fear falling from their eyes. There’s clotted up blood on their face, dried thickly around their hairline. Maybe a bit more and their hair would be dyed as pink as Techno's too. Though their fingers are rubbing that blood into the edge of the blanket. It sets a wrinkle to Techno’s nose.

“Quiet or die,” Techno scolds, voice sounding like his mother, repeating the words his father has said a lot.

From how the hybrid flinches back, it obviously works. A bit of pride almost swells up within him, fighting with the wriggly feelings in his guts. They won’t kill this hybrid, because they go for more money alive. Their group is too small to catch most hybrids alive, but this one is smaller and weaker.

It’s also the reason that they’re walking so long into the night. They’re nearly to town, will be there by morning at this rate. Techno hopes the hybrid goes for a lot and they can buy bread instead of oats.

Laying back down, he closes his eyes and tucks his hands to his neck. He dreams of warm bread and his father being in too good of a mood to lecture him about weakness.

—

For the millionth time, Techno tightens the ribbon around the bottom of his braid. He’s paranoid that it’s going to fall out at the worst moment, getting hair into his eyes and blinding him. His father constantly brings the idea up, every time the group pulls out shears to chop off their hair.

It’s not like Techno is the only one with long hair. The older men and some of the younger women do too. But his father just scoffs that those people will have to bury Techno when it gets him killed then. 

Or, that he doesn’t care if those people die, I care about you.

His mother had hair to her shoulders and she died. The hair didn’t get her killed though.

When his father turns from where he’s inspecting a bow to look, Techno quickly drops his hands and scrabbles onto his spear. With a single hand, his father corrects his hold. Which Techno has to hold back an eye roll at, it’s not like he was going to hunt with that casual hold.

“Remember, us with the bows will shoot it down first, then you can go get it,” His father repeats.

“I know,” Techno says.

And he does. It’s not the first time that they’ve trained for this. In fact, they do that basically everyday, wouldn’t you know.

It is the first time that Techno is really partaking in a hunt, though. It almost seems like his father is anxious about it. Looking down at his spear, Techno tightens his hold resolutely. He is not going to screw this up. He can’t.

“It’s an avian, you can—”

“Tell from how the track starts and stops around broken tree branches,” Techno finishes.

“Yes,” His father agrees. “Don’t sass.”

Simply nodding, his father continues.

“I’m thinking it might be young. We’ll try to take it back alive, but if the time comes where you’re at risk: kill it,” His father says firmly.

Slightly slower, Techno nods again.

It’s not technically the first time he’s killed something. He hunts food and fishes, knows how to dissect out their innards properly all on his own. But, well…

With a hybrid, it’s a little different, isn’t it?

They’re smarter, is all. And more dangerous. If Techno had to guess, it must be like hunting a big cat. Luckily there’s not any mountain lions where they travel, but he doesn’t think that’s the sort of animal someone hunts for food.

Not that they hunt the hybrids for food. It’s survival.

“I will,” Techno eventually reaffirms, because his father is still looking at him.

With his own nod, his father ruffles Techno’s hair for just a second, before turning away. Reaching upwards, Techno touches at the flyaways with slight befuddlement. 

“And you’ve gotta cut that hair,” His father scolds.

Typical. Techno sighs and tightens his hair tie once more before heading over to the main hunting group, spear in hand. It’ll be okay. Just a baby avian. 

Techno will catch it alive and make enough money to buy flour for a month.

That’s his thoughts as they head into the woods. It takes more concentration for Techno to keep his steps as light as everyone else’s. It’ll come with experience, surely. He’s certainly more quiet than when he first started hunting animals.

He almost grows dizzy with how much his eyes are flicking up and down.

Up, scan the trees for snatches of abnormal color. Down, step around an askew stick. Up, look for any movement that doesn’t go with the flow of the wind. Down, avoid a pile of crisp leaves. Up, don’t chuck his spear at a particularly boisterous bird.

The longer they walk, the higher the tension grows. They know that the avian is close by, carefully pinned inwards before it could realize what they were doing.

At least avians don’t usually hide well. They hate going underground or into caves, even if it would save them. Typical hybrid, really. Like an animal, but with pride.

Nose wrinkling, Techno looks up from a fallen branch and catches sight of bright red.

The short whistle is out of Techno’s mouth before he even thinks about it. With a burst of brilliant feathers, the avian takes off to the next tree, hopping with grand, desperate leaps.

Techno breaks into a run, spear crossed over his chest. He whistles again, slightly long this time. He gets three in return.

When one of the men reaches him, Techno lets himself slow to a jog. The man has got a bow, and so does one of the others who draws ahead. They’ll take it down, then they can think about subduing it.

His father passes him by with a glance. Techno breaks away, running in a more roundabout way, in case the avian manages to break away from its tail. It’s already in the center of the snare, now they just have to tighten it.

Forcing his legs faster, Techno follows the trail of familiar whistles, noting the messages within them. All on their own, his legs respond. Follow the commands.

Suddenly, all the times that the adults would whistle about while the kids did chores or played makes sense. It’s not so different from this, not at all. Short inquiries and long warnings. Now it’s about a little avian getting within distance to a hunter—no different from a child having left their mother’s eyes—or the avian breaking in a certain direction—at risk of slipping, just as much as a child too close to a surging river. Short noises that don't take hardly any air guide his mind and feet.

Using his own leap, Techno propels himself off of a felled tree. It has him sprinting, nearly right into the avian. He was right, it tried to split off from the bowmen.

Techno doesn’t pause in running towards the avian, spear shifted into an offensive point. It does its job, the avian turns and heads the other way, back towards the others. And after stuttering a second too.

Gasping out one breath in recognition of himself, Techno takes off again.

It’s not long now till an arrow twangs and is answered with a long squawk. Hit. Techno turns to draw closer to the others, running and then jogging when he sees that the others have slowed a bit now.

The snare is around the avian’s neck.

Naturally riding up beside his father, Techno’s eyes narrow in on the crawling form of the bird creature. It’s not been struck through the wing, unfortunately, but it doesn’t bother trying to flap away anyway. Why? Is it too exhausted?

There’s an arrow sticking out of the thing’s shoulder, grabbed in one hand. Must have been enough to knock it down and they’ve reached an incline, enough to slow even an uninjured man.

Their luck is good.

A soft tap hits Techno’s shoulder. His father, a glance shows. Right, right.

Everyone is waiting for Techno, giving him a bit of a chance. It’s nearly embarrassing, but when the other hunters with spears follow him closely, it feels thrilling. In a way, they’re following his lead.

The avian hisses at Techno when he draws near, pupils nearly thin slits from panic. Through the wing, Techno decides. That’ll keep it alive. Break its morale, keep it immobile.

The breath on Techno’s lips shakes a bit. His own exhaustion surely, he’s winded from running. It’s fine.

Face furrowing, Techno steps closer with his spear poised to strike, watching for movement.

At that moment, the avian opens its own mouth. Techno thinks it’s about to speak, maybe plead for its life. Plead for help. Techno’s ready to show it what happens with that.

But it just shrieks instead.

The sound is loud enough to make Techno flinch, though he corrects himself quickly. A bit too quickly, he stabs forward with too much haste, allowing the avian to fall backwards and be missed. 

It’s fine, it’s still on the ground. He can try again, he can—

Techno yanks the spear out of the topsoil with so much force that he stumbles back a step. A mere second, his balance catches itself while his hands are still moving to re-prepare for a strike.

But that’s all the time it takes for a veil of darkness to crash to the ground between them.

Wind gushes out from the dark figure due to the force of its impact. The chill buffets Techno's eyes and hair, forcing him to blink and scrunch backwards. He tightens his hold on the spear, raising it so that the top of his chest and face are slightly better protected. Not that it totally matters, considering that there’s the telltale shifting of feathers and bird-like creaking filtering through ribs.

It’s not an avian, that much Techno knows before his eyes hardly have a chance to reopen. Not so much from looks, even. But the air was silent before it fell on them and there hasn’t been a lick of a trail to indicate any other hybrids were around.

This can only be an elytrian.

Everything within Techno screams at him to turn and run. Including a good portion of his brain, because he won’t even be allowed on any hunts that might include elytrains for years still! It’s not even something that he would argue against either. There’s no way Techno can fight an elytrian! The figure towers over him, wings spread and looking ready to engulf him in darkness forever.

A shred of good sense smacks Techno over the head and reminds him that running will just leave his back open to be sliced into. Stifling a gasp, he stabs forward with his spear instead, hoping to hit something.

The wings aren’t an option, they’re covered by a hard shell layer that cheap metal won’t break easily. The same with parts of the body, curled around where the most important organs lie. There’s no way that he’ll manage to pin a limb either.

He goes for the neck.

It’s a stretch of pale skin between pitch feathers and golden hair. Thicker than an arm and curving up into a jawline. Techno shoves all of his strength into the stab, facing squishing with the effort.

With a swipe so quick that Techno only catches a blur of darkness, the tip of the spear is shoved backwards. It flies out of his fingers, over his shoulder and away behind him. Before the thought of turning to grab it can enter his mind, the thing's other hand is wrapping around his wrist and yanking.

His face smashes into the elytrian’s front, knocking his skull backwards and mixing up the brains within. An huff leaves his lips as his legs legs weaken, nearly making him fall. Instead, another arm wraps around him, tightening till his ribs scream and his feet leave the ground.

They turn enough for Techno to see the other hunters, frozen in their mad dash forwards. Their weapons are still out, pointed and shifting in desperate fingers. Their eyes are on Techno’s throat now.

There’s claws wrapped around it, digging in and ready to tear his esophagus straight out.

The elytrian is clicking dangerously. It draws its thumb nail down the side of his throat, breaking the very top layer of skin. Techno gasps more in shock and fear than at the slight stinging.

“I’ll kill him,” The elytrian threatens. “Who's in charge?”

There’s shifting behind them. Techno can just about tell that avian has stood and scrambled away, up the incline behind them. A few people in the group twitch, thinking about going after it.

His heart pounds so hard that his jugular digs into the claw with every beat. He struggles not to swallow nervously.

“Leader, talk to me or I kill him,” The elytrian threatens again, squeezing Techno even further.

His father is shifting towards the front of the group, watching Techno closely. The bow in his hands is lifted, trying to find somewhere to strike. He can hit the thing’s arm, can’t he? Then Techno will run. He should have run and taken the sliced up back.

A tiny wheeze leaves him, forcing him to cringe hard at the threat it heightens around his throat.

No one speaks up though, still shifting around in a semicircle, eyeing the situation. The leader isn’t here, if they even have a real one. Not that it would matter. Techno doesn’t think the man would be speaking up now either.

“Now—”

The elytrian is cut off by something hitting its back, hard. Techno jerks forward along with the beast, five pinpoints of pain stabbing into his throat as he gags roughly around the blow. 

Just barely, he can hear strings twanging and the whistling of arrows. One flies too high. One strikes the elytrian in the arm.

It must miss bone, since it sinks through, right into Techno flesh below.

He shouts, body jerking with pain. The elytrian is hissing now, violent and loud right into Techno’s ear. He tries to squirm away from that too, but the thing is shifting its arms around him to hold him tighter, scooping his legs up.

With a cracking beat of wings, the elytrian takes off into the air. Techno goes with, though he swears that his organs stay behind, falling to the ground. He gasps, freezing wind around him invading his lungs and then the prominent pain still berating his chest. Burning, stinging.

Techno whines stupidly, before the elytrian forcibly yanks his arm away from Techno’s middle, pulling the arrow out with him. The sound chokes off, peeling into a scream.

“Fuckers,” The elyrtrian blithes angrily, still soaring higher and higher, past the protection of the tree tops.

Techno’s going to be dropped. Will it hurt more or less to smack into the tree branches before the ground, or if he manages to go straight into the dirt? His spine is straight, eyes wide. Frozen by the intense cold of the sky and the fear.

The elytrian pushes Techno from his body, dropping him now, surely, surely, it’ll hurt—

His measly human fingernails don’t even scrape at the man as he's tossed, though he hits the beast again before he can even scream. His hips and waist are hooked over its shoulder, leaving his top half to dangle down while only his legs are held onto.

The position shoves into his floating ribs hard. He swears he can feel the wound there tear further as he sputters.

Turning, the elytrian takes off in some direction, far faster than before.

It feels like falling, in a way. The force of the draft and the jouncing movements, each one threatening to buck him off or break him apart. Grand gasps leave him quickly, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Not that it works. His head spins more and more, if anything. The organs in his abdomen feel twisted together, only making him huff more.

Creaky noises escape him, but not much more.

Techno should scream. He should fight. 

It's all he can do to keep his eyes open.

The fingers shifting on his legs reminds him of just the thing he's being held by. Hair tries to stab into his eyes as he watches the forest start to disappear. Oh no.

“S-stop,” Techno tries to demand. It comes out half stuttered.

His heart is in his ears. It's getting harder to see around the black splotches. Desperately, Techno digs his fingers into the wings he's hanging so close too.

“Let me go!”

The elytrian practically stumbles in the air. Falling does actually feel different than the horrific flying apparently, since the pair drops several feet before its wings can straighten back out. Techno must look like he's spasming with how bad his shaking grows, gasping hard.

“Do that again and I drop you,” The elytrian threatens.

As though showing he means it, those claws dig into Techno's legs, around the back of his knees. Just enough to hurt.

Blearily, Techno watches the trees below them blur and fade away. There's fields now, he thinks. Lots of green. Chunks of gray rocks.

Blobs of red drop off of his chin repeatedly, dripping all the way to the ground.

That's good, his father can find him. Blood trails are easy to follow. Even if elytrians are too fast for that…

His eyes are sticky, weak and useless. Difficult to keep open. Techno thinks about grabbing onto the wings so they both fall, at least. He thinks they're too far for their corpses to be worth anything though. And it's getting harder to move his individual fingers anyway.

The cold seeps to his bones, all of him more ice than person now. At least if he falls, he'll just shatter now and not splat into stewed meat.

That's about to happen, he thinks, because the little bones in his ears are suddenly crushed as they start to fall again. Far longer than a couple seconds, Techno struggles to open his eyes he didn't realize he closed. His legs kick and his hands try to bunch up in the dark fabric on the thing's back, half successful as a croak slips out around a gasp.

Dropping and dropping, the motion has Techno needing to cling to not rise right off of its shoulder. Though he practically thinks that his brain is still floating. His hair whips behind him, straight upwards as the strands writhe in a way he can’t.

Grand beats of wings wrench them up, right before they hit the ground. The meat of his stomach smashes into the bony shoulder, forcing a pained squelch out of him as his wound seems to pop. 

The elytrian has to run, as teetering as on a tightrope as he lands on the ground, not quite slow enough.

“Dammnit,” It murmurs, whipping around while its wings rankle.

The wind has stopped around Techno, but it somehow still feels there. Drifting between his ribs and knocking the air out of his lungs. Techno struggles to breathe as noises that could be considered sobs try to escape. They’re not, he’s not crying. But they sound too close with his lungs practically torn up.

Those claws run over his legs again. They feel like knives, even if they don’t split him open this time.

Lifting his shaking hand as far as he can, Techno balls it up before driving it downward on its back. Then again and again.

“Let me go!” Techno screams. “Foul beast!”

“Fowl beast? I guess,” The thing snorts with dry amusement.

“Let—” Techno surges forwards, grabbing into the elytrian’s feathers, yanking. “GO–oh!”

This time when Techno dropped, he really does hit the ground. The pain seizes his diaphragm, forcing him silent and twitching all over. Though his mouth is still gaping like a fish. His entire chest must be cracking open at this point, his insides feel like they’re mashing in the dirt.

“I warned you,” The elytrian says.

A tiny whine creaks through the agony.

He almost doesn’t notice when his hair begins to stand on edge. There’s static on his tongue, like he’s been pulled below a thick wool blanket. Strange…

“Phil,” A new voice says, shimmery around the edges. Techno jolts, forcing himself to roll over. There’s… some kind of hybrid. Blue hair and strange floaty bits. Techno isn’t quite sure what kind. But it must be. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Should be arriving shortly. If he follows the plan,” The elytrian huffs.

Is it’s name… Phil?

It’s so mundane, like some man in a random village. Even they use more interesting names than that in the hunter group. Stronger names.

Must be a poor imitation. Stupid.

“And what’s… that?”

The new hybrid turns to look down at Techno, face slightly scrunched in distaste. Techno tries to draw his legs towards his middle, forcing his face stony. There’s a tiny wobble to his lips, but he hopes it’s not visible.

He’s dismissed easily by the two.

“Negotiation tactic. Didn’t go to plan,” The elytrian spits. Like it’s not going around calling itself Phil. Too haughty.

Slowly, Techno pushes himself up onto his folded legs. It makes him wheeze with the effort and the swell of new warmth on his skin sings of weeping wounds. Heavily leaning on his hands, he watches them through his eyelashes. Not that much of their attention is on him.

“Shoot. Think they’re still coming this way?” The blue haired hybrid asks, hand on his hip.

“Considering we have their hatchling now?” Phil says back sarcastically. “They brought it with, Smajor. It is a child, isn’t it?”

There’s a hybrid name. Far more appropriate. He glares at the guy hard, baring his teeth.

“Definitely. It’s punier than Tommy.”

“Then they’ll certainly come. But we have leverage now at least,” The elytrian clicks with a tilted head.

Carefully, Techno reaches into his boot. The pair of shoes are too tight, has been for about a season now. But they’re still loose around the tops from being worn so long, laces loosened further over the ordeal.

There’s a tiny blade tucked against his ankle.

Really, it can’t even be considered a knife with how small it is. The type of thing to shorten fingernails or shuck a stick for kindling. His mother had tucked it in before they went into a town once, and Techno has kept up the routine.

It slides out of the sheath easily. He squeezes it in his hand, breathing out to try and shove down the pain and wavering.

Techno lunges forward quickly, teeth gritting to keep a shout in. The Smajor thing turns, enough time to raise its eyebrows before Techno just about reaches it. That’s when the static grows louder, grabbing at his ears and teeth till they ring. He tries to stab up at the thing’s throat anyway.

He doesn’t have a chance to make contact, since he’s tackled by the elytrian before he can touch the other.

All sharp edges and heavy weight, it smashes Techno into the ground alongside an angry caw. A knee sinks deeply into the wound under his ribs. Something cracks. He screams.

His back arches off the ground despite at least the weight of a grown man holding him down. It’s as though his body thinks it can escape the pain physically. Gods, Techno is willing to try too. At the same time, his eyes roll back in his head, practically falling blind despite his eyelids being wide open.

It hurts, it’s bad, it, it—

Sour dredges surge out of his nose and mouth, choking his screams down. Now he’s burning too, but it hardly touches him among the rest.

The claws are back on his skin. He can’t even flinch.

Garbled wet sounds burble up. His throat tastes like iron.

—

His head is strange and fuzzy in a way that Techno never wakes up like. It could almost be peaceful. Like sleeping in a cloud, or a pile of fresh snow.

Then reality hits. The cloud is wet, the snow is cold, his body is soaked in pain.

Techno tries to curl up more, the tiniest of groans leaving him. Is he sick? This feels like more than sickness. And his chest twinges like he's been stabbed, forcing him to freeze roughly. Not that it matters, since his arms refuse to move forwards.

It’s confusing, almost enough to break through the pain. He pants while wiggling his fingers. By the time that panicked sweat cools over his skin, his body has simmered down to a just few points of pounding. His neck and chest, down his abdomen, mostly. Careful not to jostle the areas, he tugs on his arms.

They’re stuck behind him, attached at the wrist. When he pulls harder, it hurts. Something is rough around them, cutting.

Face scrunching up, enough for him to realize that his head definitely hurts too, he forces his eyes open. The room he’s in is dimmer than he’s used to, but that might just be because it’s a room and not a tent. There are windows scattered about, sunlight shining in. The bed below him is admittedly terribly soft, and there’s useless things set about the place, like bedside tables and dressers. Despite the domestic sight, Techno’s breath catches in his throat in panic.

Where is he? Why is he here? He’s never been in a place like this before and being trapped here is only more scary—

The elytrian. Techno gasps so hard that his lungs spasm, making him cough even at the starburst of pain it causes. Gods, his front hurts. He’d been stabbed, or something, right?

A glance down shows that his organs aren’t spilling out of his shirt, but he can’t move his hands to examine the wound further. Maybe they’re just hidden below the fabric. If this is what a liver snagging on a shirt feels like, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Though, he also belatedly recognizes that it isn’t his shirt. He should have realized earlier, since it’s thin and flowy in a way that’s asking for death. His sluggishness makes his panic worse.

Why have the hybrids tied him up like this? Are they just prolonging his suffering, or do they have a different plan? Something about his group, but.

Techno looks up as resolutely as he can, narrowing in on the window. He needs out. Now.

Somehow, he’ll stumble back through the woods back to his group. He can track and a group of their size can’t hide themselves very well, he can find them. Hopefully his father asked to stay put a couple days to give him time. He might’ve.

The logical part of his brain points out that however long the elytrian flew with him, it’ll be days worth of walking on foot, probably. If not more. And that’s not accounting for how hurt he is, how he’s lacking supplies.

Kicking, Techno manages to swing his legs forward to the edge of the bed. They’re bound together at the ankles too. He’s barefoot.

Everything hurts too much for logic. Logic is stupid. Techno needs out and away from these animals, not any logistics!

It’s impossible to get his upper body sitting, arms barely able to get an inch of leverage and core too weak to do anything. Not to mention how even trying to feels like being split in half all over again. Nothing splatters onto his lap or the mattress, so he must be mostly in one piece for now.

Techno chews on his tongue, before resigning himself. There’s no time for grousing or giving in to pain.

Still laying on his side, he scooches his legs over the edge of the bed. His body has to stretch awkwardly to allow for the angle, legs twisting further and further away. Lots of focus keeps his sounds to just tiny, stifled things, but his eyes are horribly shiny afterwards.

Almost brushing the ground, his body tips forwards when the uneven weight grows too much. All of him is dragged down, smacking first onto his knees and thighs, then his head with a thunk. 

His headache is no longer the last pain he notices, white bursting over his vision. At least it slows his descent so that it’s only a small agony when his front touches the floor.

The floor is wooden, shiny and smooth. Too cold on his cheek, his breath puffs moisture onto the surface. If only it was literally getting the dullness out of him too.

Belatedly, Techno realizes that the fall might have made a sound. The already mounting exhaustion grows stronger, nearly urging him to sleep. But he pushes beyond with practice, even if this is worse than most late nights. Every limb, a thousand pounds and cemented to him. All his blood wriggles at his injuries, half his body weight, it must be. Oh, he would take walking for a week over this.

He still has to walk for a week, probably. Like this.

The thought is almost enough to double his exhaustion, bringing frustration to mix with his headache. That, he tries to push away too.

He’s practically an adult now, and even if he failed in his very first hunt, that just means he has to prove it more. No room for weakness. Weak ends get chopped off so the rest of them don't have to fight through this type of heaviness themselves.

Techno’s heaviness taunts him, motivating him to roll onto his knees and chest.

It’s a bad position for his body: neck barred back and stomach pulling. Carefully, he starts inching forwards, using his legs and chin. Every movement is a brand new wave of excruciatiation. It moves him practically nowhere at all.

The sunlight spilling onto the floor from the window is the only thing that he can keep his eyes on. He’s almost there. Almost there. Just gotta get there.

When he reaches the window, the tiredness poses even more of a problem. How does he get upright?

Two seconds to close his eyes, only two, just to rest them. It’s been two seconds, open, open, open—

Techno leans his forehead against the wall and starts levering himself upward.

It’s terrible. His balance is shot to nothing and the pain won’t leave him for a single second. He declares that he’s over it, but it’s still there so much. Has he ever been hurt this badly before? No.

But he’s never been captured by hybrids before either. Focus, focus.

Breathing sloppily, Techno scrapes his face into the wall until his body has to follow. After a couple minutes, he could almost be considered sitting up.

All the color has drained from his eyesight and black blobs are trying to fight their way in. There’s a numbness sitting on his lips and cheeks. It promises fainting. Maybe all his blood really is in his stomach. It’s certainly not in the veins going up to his head.

He breathes heavier to make up for it. So close now.

His chin edges onto the window sill, allowing him the smallest reprieve. He could cry—metaphorically. The shine in his eyes is from the light, beaming into his face now and warming him just a little. This is good, he’s so close.

Techno almost swears that he hears something from outside the room, but it’s lost in the ringing of his ears. He doesn’t have the strength to turn and look, to better position himself to hear.

He pushes on.

Eyes jittering, he looks out about the space outside the window. It’s beyond a pane of glass, a barrier he’s not thinking about right now. But it seems mostly normal, serene. There’s grass and trees, a big blue sky enveloping everything.

There’s no one to be seen in his limited range of sight. That’s good.

The barrier of the future is really the barrier of now. Allowing himself to whine, just a fraction of a second, Techno shuffles forwards and sets his jaw against the bottom of the window.

It’s nearly a futile task, Techno can tell. The pain in his neck, across his throat, had been building all this time, but now it really shines bright. Not to mention the angle he’s going for digs the bump on his head into the hard glass. All of the strength in his body pushing up right into the window still barely makes it move at all.

No, he can do this! He already whined once, no more. A couple more spill out, till he thunks he’s jaw roughly. No more!

Somehow shoving his chin even closer to the crack where the window meets the sill, his back strains with how hard he pushes up. The muscles in his abdomen spasm with him, sharp tearing burning at his rib line.

The faint sound of window paint unsticking and grinding sounds prettier than any bird song, trickling water, or coins falling into palms. Wind gushes into the tiny crack, cold against his skin like welcoming fingers. They have claws, but not dark or too sharp.

When Techno’s eyes fall down through his bout of gasping, he notices some streaks of red upon the window sill. Where’s it from? His front is still clean, but maybe his neck…

Shaking his head, he wedges his jaw into the crack of the window, repeating the process of pushing up. It hurts, but it’s easier. Eventually he has to stand to get it up any further, but his shaking legs somehow hold him with the support of the wall.

The window sits open at about a foot and half, just big enough for him to squeeze through. He did it, he really did it.

Now, again.

Techno climbs out of the window with his shoulders and tucked in elbows and a lot of squirming. Gods, the hard wood tries to flay him in half in the middle, but he just wiggles faster at the urging of the electricity zapping out. And by that point, he’s tipping forwards.

The grass is softer than wood, but not by much. His legs hit the window on the way through, barely a drop in the sea. It does freeze them up, not that he would move when everything is spinning so much right now.

Maybe the dirt will swallow him up completely. If he lays there long enough, it’ll be true. The grass will grow over him, knot up in his hair and push under his skin. It can take away the heat around his wounds, if it wants. That would be nice. The darkness.

A bird call over his head makes him flinch. Not right now.

Crawling with his knees and chin seems a bit easier after all that, even if his body is really growing worse off. No more windows or falling, so he can make it. Just disappear into some trees, find a bush, curl up like a wounded animal. It's a good plan.

Then, Techno almost topples off a cliff to his death.

Since he's using his face to shove himself forwards, it tips off the edge first. The sudden loss of ground below his eyes, expansive blue and the world far far below, makes him flinch violently from vertigo. All of his body flails, trying to push him away from the steep drop. He manages to fall off of his knees and scrape his chin on the edge of the cliff, downed flat on his aching stomach.

Eyes not quite comprehending the terrible distance, and his body shaking despite laying down now, it takes Techno a few long seconds to really take in what he's seeing. And then a few more to blink and consider that he's going crazy.

He is not looking over the edge of a cliff or river or any other natural scenery. There's absolutely nothing natural about the sight at all.

Instead, a piece of the earth has been scooped out of the ground far, far below, and is now suspended in the sky.

It doesn't make sense. The earth in the sky. Nothing below it.

Even though he shouldn’t, Techno pushes his face further over the edge, straining to see what could explain this. There must be a pillar of land connecting them to the planet, it’s impossible without something holding them up. As illogical as a human being flying.

There’s nothing under them but pillars of water and glowing liquid, falling endlessly to the ground like hair off a head. A severed head. 

The nausea that gripes Techno suddenly is so strong that his teeth smash together. Faintly, he gags, but nothing comes up. For the best, he doesn’t think puking off of a floating island is a good idea. Maybe it’ll piss off whatever is holding them up. Techno’s sick of falling.

Which raises the question, how the heck does he get down?

There doesn’t seem to be any staircases going down. He’s had enough lessons about not playing in waterfalls to know it’ll smash him to bits before gravity even matters. A few smaller, equally mind boggling chunks of land are strewn out towards the ground, but far too far to jump to.

Techno closes his eyes, groaning as the pain and uselessness hits him. This is too much. It’s—

The strands of hair hanging loosely around his face swing as his shoulder gives out. His collarbones hit the ground, scrapped up by the rock and hard dirt. Until it crumbles slightly at his weight.

And lets his weight tumble fully over.

Techno gasps, struck silent and still while falling, as though that would ever help! By the time he thinks to scream, he’s already in the air. This time, there’s nothing to grab. He was right, the island is truly held up by nothing. And neither is he.

Smashing his eyes shut, his body twists violently in the limited range of motion. He can’t even flail with how his limbs are bound together. Though, they do try to pop themselves out of their joints with how much he’s straining against them.

Doesn’t really matter, since he’s going to die.

He thinks it gets him, that the ground came faster than he thought it would. It certainly hurts like a bad fall and all the air is shoved out of his body. Death has arms that squeeze and an annoying clicking throat.

“Jesus fuck!” A shockingly normal voice growls. “Human children have a fucking death wish?!”

Peeling his weepy eyes open, Techno takes in Phil’s blurred face over him. Grand flaps of wings drag him higher, also dragging out a groan. No, please…

The elytrian lands on the floating island easily, wings sounding like leaves as they shake out. The thing strides into the building, feet tapping as they transition to that strangely homey wood.

Techno pinches his eyes shut again, wheezing as he’s set upon the floor.

“How the hell did you get outside?” Phil asks, sounding like it's walking around him.

It worsens his dizziness. Round and round. Looping around so he can’t break off and escape.

“Do human fledglings chuck themselves off high places too?” Phil says, nearly sounding like he’s joking, but far too annoyed.

With a wobbly breath, filling his chest with bee stings, Techno opens his eyes and glares. The elytrian raises an eyebrow, then smiles a little.

“You don’t have any feathers, mate.”

He tries to grit his teeth and bare them. The second that he parts his lips, a forceful cough pops right out. It’s wet, slightly metallic tasting. He curls towards his middle with the force of them, shoulders being wrenched backwards along the curve of his spine.

The center of his abdomen is wet.

“Dear Death, give me strength.” Mutters sprinkle around him.

His upper arm is grabbed and pulled backwards. All over, it feels like being torn. Hissing, Techno starts kicking his legs and jerking his arms. They move about an inch even with all of his strength behind it.

He wrenches harder, till his wrists and ankles burn.

The elytrian caws loudly, but he lets go. “Are you seriously trying to die?”

Face pressed to his knees, Techno practically hisses. It makes him feel like a cornered animal. Well, he’s being tied up before they slit his throat or whatever they’re going to do. Might as well be a pathetic rabbit.

Forcibly, he puts a glare onto his face while peeking his eyes out.

Phil is visibly pissed, wings puffed up behind it. A hand is on its hip, seemingly watching him closely. A slight smirk pushes across its lips. His pain must be amusing. He glares harder. It spreads the teeth further, somewhere between a sneer and a smile.

“Stubborn, aren’t you? Not very befitting a human.”

With a huff, Techno forces his eyes to stay open. He’s still spinning despite the solid ground.

“Let me clear some things up before you kill yourself, despite my best efforts.” Phil crouches beside Techno, meeting his eyes intently. They’re not actually black this close up. Dark green. “You will stay alive until your little group of killers come for you. I will give you back in exchange for all of you fucking off. Understood?”

The lines that unwittingly come over Techno’s face don’t denote that he does. Is that really these beasts’ plan? It… 

Sounds too good to be true.

Hybrids don’t let humans live, they slaughter them mercilessly. So they must be very scared of the hunter group in order to negotiate. Except, Techno can admit that their group is small. They’re not backed by any nobles or royals, they just do small bounties. It’s enough to stay alive and that’s it.

And perhaps that would be enough usually, hybrids are unorganized and can’t think as well as humans. That slight avian was a great example. Easy to corral. But this is a whole group of hybrids, with a floating island. They must have magic, somehow.

Even without Techno held hostage, they’d usually avoid attacking these hybrids head on. They would probably stick around and pick off any individuals that strayed too far, though.

Is that enough fear for hybrids to go to this trouble? Seems unlikely.

It must be a trick of some sort. A trap or a lie, something that involves Techno being alive, or at least believing that he will be kept alive. There’s a chance that it ends up with his group being hurt by these things too.

He wants to believe Phil's words, but he can’t. He keeps his glare steady.

The elytrian sighs. Good. 

Techno isn’t stupid.

“Wretched, mulish, fledgling,” Phil mutters to himself, grabbing for Techno. He flinches, but the claws just wrap around him. “And a bald one too. Tragic wretch.”

If his insides weren’t scorching, he’d strike out for all the insults. As is, he falls limp and twitching within the hold, silent in a tight throated way. Vaguely, with a terrible sense of dread, he recognizes that he’s being taken back to the room he woke up in.

From the top of the far too plush bedding, he writhes through the pain as though he can somehow slip away again. A single hand keeps him down, with Phil seeming like it’s not even trying.

“If you’re going to act up so much, you need to follow through successfully, mate,” Phil mutters.

Then it grabs Techno’s stinging wrists and wrenches them upwards. A tiny gasp pops out of his chest.

A length of rope is tied to the knots around his wrists, and then round and round the headboard poles. There’s enough range for Techno’s arms to be flat against his back still, luckily not pried above his shoulders, but not much more.

Still, he tries to break them free with little tugs. As though genuinely seeing if he can, Phil watches. Then nods when he can’t.

Techno scowls hard.

“You really brought it upon yourself. No jumping off islands, sorry. You can do that once you're safe and sound with your little humans. We don’t do refunds.”

Again, the guy has the gall to sound amused, almost. The— thing. Elytrian.

“Just stay put a while.”

With a wave and a shake of it’s head, the elytrian turns and leaves the room. Techno’s tension drops like a bow snapping at the tightest point. The sting is certainly there.

He can only squirm in the restraints for a few moments before his eyes slip shut and won’t open.

Chapter Text

There’s a bird perched at the end of the bed.

Techno sees the red feathers sway through his hazy eyes as he blinks awake, not reacting for one second, two. The scarlet pain around his wrists hits him then and he jolts upright hard, eyes snapping wide.

The avian raises an eyebrow at him, hostile face twisting further. Techno forces himself to glare, evening his breaths out. Though his pulse is still pounding and he feels suffocated. At least those aren't visible.

A short staring contest pulls out, but it only allows Techno to gather more steadiness. He remembers where he is, what happened, and who this thing is.

It’s the avian that their group was hunting before the elytrian jumped in and grabbed him.

The glare on Techno’s face grows more hostile, easier.

“You tried to stab me,” The avian accuses.

“Of course,” Techno says back.

“You’re not even denying it?!”

The avian breaks first. Of course. It throws its hands in the air and puffs itself up. One of its arms goes up only three-quarters as high as the other. The arrow wound. Apparently the avian walks it off slightly more poorly than the elytrian. Though neither of them got one to the guts like Techno, so it figures.

“Why would I?” Techno says evenly.

He can think of exactly one reason not to admit to such a thing. Shame. Techno failed at stabbing the pathetic little avian, hardly even bigger than Techno. Well, hardly bigger width wise, the avian is quite a bit more lanky, but still.

Shame is just proof of failure, though. Techno allows the hot brand to befall himself, setting his lips and taking it. He brought it upon himself.

Technically, about half brought it upon himself. No one could have predicted the elytrian jumping in and saving the thing. The avian cheated, setting up a trap like that. That’s what it must have been, right? This was all planned.

Subtly, Techno rubs his wrists up and down, trying to loosen the ropes. The burning pain sets in immediately, well familiar at this point. He spends most of his time trying to shrug out of the ropes. If he has free hands, he can actually escape this time. Tell his father and group about the hybrids’ stupid plans.

Otherwise…

“Cause you’re fucking tied up and I’m not?” The avian says. Like Techno’s the stupid one right now. “I could gut you.”

Slowly, Techno bends his bound legs to his front, as sat up as he can be. He tugs his wrists harder, more insistently. They absolutely scream.

“Try it,” He says flatly.

The avian outright tilts its head to the side, sizing up Techno. Blond curls fall into the thing’s clear blue eyes, making it look terribly boyish. A crooked smile crosses its lips.

It sqwauks with laughter.

“Christ, you’re a right bitch,” The thing laughs at him.

Since its attention is slightly lower in its mirth, Techno slouches a tad more. A shaky breath rattles out of him. Every bruise, scrape, and bump across his body sings for his attention, causing a real cacophony alongside the shining stars of his bleeding wounds. 

He’s so tired. He wants to sleep.

No time for weakness, the beast is watching.

“You’re lucky Phil has a plan for you. Someone would knock the snobby look off your face otherwise, you know,” The thing says.

“You’re lucky Phil tied me up or more than a look would be knocked off your face,” Techno practically growls.

Those red feathers puff up more. The wings nearly tower enough to feel engulfed from here. If only Techno had gotten that damned spear through them.

“All humans really are terrible,” The boyish thing says, practically pouting.

Techno’s stomach hurts. Not because of the words, they are the exact sort of thing he’d expect a hybrid to say. But because for a moment, the avian sounded and looked horribly like Techno’s older cousin. Might as well have been his brother, really. After the boy’s sister died, he spent a lot of time with Techno instead.

Until he left them. Not dead. But worse. Left all of them for dead. Including Techno.

Scoffing, Techno grits his teeth until the wretched feelings within him get shoved back down. But it’s a difficult battle to keep his eyes empty.

“Whatever…”

“Why are you indig-nant?” The avian gripes, messing up the last word. Doesn’t mess up its bluster, though. “You’re the ones who came here and tried to kill us!”

“Well, obviously. If we didn’t, you’d kill us uninhibited,” Techno says.

“That’s such bullshit! What, killing us before we even do anything?!”

“You said yourself, you'd kill me if I didn't have bargaining power,” Techno says evenly.

“I did not say that!” The bird shouts.

Unbothered, Techno turns his head and stares at the wall. Or that’s how he’s quite certain he appears on the outside. An apathetic expression always goes down well, he’s had a lot of practice with it. Turning away from the creature, measly avian as it is, triggers his blood to churn roughly.

Especially since his ignoring makes the blond even more incensed. The avian jumps up, fluttering its feathers so audibly that Techno has to peek for a second. But aside from just barely leaning closer, forcing him to swallow a flinch, it doesn't advance.

“Whatever! Just wait here in silence till you get saved by your parents,” The avian hisses, before stomping out of the room.

As though that’s some sort of punishment. 

Techno relaxes when the footsteps only retreat and no one comes in again. Then, he really puts his back and arms into breaking the ropes around his wrists.

Admittedly, the slight towards needing to be saved by his parents kind of stings. Only because it’s true, at least right now. If he can’t get himself free, then he’s truly burdening everyone in his group.

They don’t need any more burdens right now. Techno was supposed to stop being a burden because of this hunt, but it all went the other way.

He frowns and rubs his wrists together harder. They can move perhaps a centimeter more than when the ropes first went on. Or that could be the slick of blood making his skin slippery against the ropes. Whatever helps get him out of here.

Because he does have a new escape plan, better than the last one. Well, there wasn’t much of a plan last time, since he hardly remembers it, what with how he was half unconscious and slathered in pain. The pain hasn’t changed much regardless of how the elytrian changed the bandages around his angry wounds, so that they’re only half soaked through. But he feels a tad more awake.

There has to be a way down from this island. The avian being up here proves that. Although avians can fly, with juveniles it’s in the same way that chickens can. A bit of gliding and perhaps a few feet into the air to get up onto a tree.

There must be something that the boy— bird climbed to get up here. Which means that Techno can climb it to get down. Perfect.

Now he just needs to get his wrists free, which. Techno wrenches his shoulder up, sending an absolute seer of pain over the inside of his arm but doing little else. He’s been working on that for a couple days in between the deep pits of unconsciousness. Progress is minimal.

If only Techno hadn’t used his hidden knife around those hybrids and gotten it taken. Then it would only be a few minutes to cut himself free. Stupid. He wouldn’t have been able to take them both down, why didn’t he think?

This is what his father means about him not being ready for responsibility. 

Too quick and brash and stupid!

He rocks his wrists back and forth, over and over, using the force of his entire upper body. The pain rises with it, until eventually he’s gasping against his will. Giant breaths that cut off and try to force tears out.

Techno doesn’t let himself cry or stop moving. He’s done enough wrong. He needs to fix this.

It’s hard when he’s so tired, exhaustion beating over him just as heavily as the bright panic. Plus the agony makes his whole body shake. All of him, he feels close to dying under it.

See how wretched it feels? Dying? If Techno doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want his family to die, he has to push through.

Biting his tongue, he pushes on.

There does seem to be a bit of progress. His wet hands get some more movement as his hairline pricks with sweat. Eventually he has to slump over, dizzy and weak. But he keeps moving his wrists behind him. Remembers why he has to…

He doesn’t hear the footsteps until they’re nearly upon him.

Freezing, Techno rolls fully onto his back so that his hands are sandwiched below him. The pressure is hellish, shoving the ropes into the bleeding wounds, deep. He swears he can feel every thread and curve of the twine against his open flesh. But he forces his eyes stiff on the doorway.

It’s the elytrian. He squints further.

A smile is his only response. Slightly ironic and crooked. Techno only stops himself from glaring more because it would close his eyes completely.

“Tommy is a shit babysitter, hm?” Phil asks, acidicly amused.

Techno doesn’t even know where to start with that question. That annoying chil—avian? Babysitting Techno? It’s a funny term for watching a captive, and anyway. Well. Techno supposes the avian was a bad warden.

“Though you can’t blame him, you tried to kill him,” Phil shrugs.

This again.

“It was us or you,” Techno mutters, looking away. “And anyway, I know it was a set-up.”

“Do you?” Phil asks, walking closer and sitting. Luckily in a chair. He’s got a water bottle in his hands. “You didn’t know at the time, though. And that didn’t stop you.”

Techno huffs, licking his dry lips. “Us or you all, I just said. Use your ears if not your brain.”

Phil laughs, showing off his sharp teeth.

“Oh dear, what a mouth on you. You’ve used your ears, obviously. Brain? Hm.”

Techno rolls his eyes, but jerks his head when Phil leans over. The man just picks up the water, uncapping it. Techno has the impulse to to turn his head from the elytrian bringing the glass to his lips, but he has been insatiably thirsty this whole time.

Carefully, the sharp black nails tip the water into his mouth. He half expects that the whole thing will be dumped on him, blotting out his oxygen. The expectation alone makes him cringe. But Phil just gently tips the glass, keeping his mouth and nose clear enough.

Setting the mostly empty bottle aside, Phil crosses his arms and looks out the window. Techno almost appreciates it, embarrassed by having to drink from someone else’s hands. His wrists twist in the ropes as subtly as he can.

“Does your stomach hurt?” Phil asks.

“What do you think?” Techno asks. The wound hurts with every jerk of his arms. If anything, it’s motivation to keep going.

Frowning at the answer, the elytrian turns and grabs at Techno’s face. His head smacks into the bedframe with the force that he flinches backwards away from the hand, eyes pinching shut. Though, as a breath shakes out of him, no touch ever comes.

When he peeks his eyes open, Phil’s overly razored hand is paused a few inches away, frowning harder. Slowly, it brings it down and presses it to Techno’s forehead. It’s slightly cold, but only on the talons part. The palm is warm, slightly calloused. Kind of like his mom’s hands.

Not at all, though. She didn’t have monstrous nails on her fingers. Techno forces his face to turn away.

“You’ve got a fever,” Phil says. “Damn arrow…”

“Didn’t seem to hurt you,” Techno mumbles.

“I didn’t shoot at a child, mate. Those were your people,” Phil says, sounding kind peeved off.

“Almost like they were trying to save me or something,” Techno says.

“I’d have handed you over if they fucking stopped to talk.”

“What? Alive?” Techno asks.

He’s never known when to shut his mouth. That’s another common complaint of his parents, his father. But it’d be impossible to stop now.

His stomach hurts.

Phil sucks in a very large breath, lungs seeming to swelter from the air. His wings, too, puff up. The dark feathers are long, some longer than Techno’s whole forearm. Truly, they are like obsidian swords. Sharpened until they are so thin that they could cut skin without any pressure.

Techno drops his gaze to his own shoulder, keeping his breath steady and glare frigid. Mostly.

“Have you ever talked to a hybrid before now?” Phil asks.

“Sure,” Techno says shortly.

“A proper conversation, with no injuries or bindings or murder attempts involved?”

That one… slightly more difficult to place.

“Obviously not. I’d be dead before I opened my mouth,” Techno ends on.

“I’m not going to act like every hybrid on earth is a saint and most don’t trust humans to throw them, but you can hardly say you know well enough on the topic until you properly talk to a few hybrids, can you? It’s only logical,” Phil says.

That one… even more difficult to place. To an extent, Techno does understand where the elytrian is coming from. One goes to the cobbler to know about shoes, the baker for bread. Hybrids would know about hybrids.

But shoes and bread do not speak on themselves. Their makers do. And their unmakers.

That’s what those who hunt hybrids are. Techno’s father, mother, family.

This man—no, creature—has already tricked Techno once. It’s all that this all is. Hybrids look and talk and act like humans as a mimic, to trick people in cruel ways so that they’re easier to kill. If Techno tried talking to one, he’d be killed.

He refuses to be easy prey. To let them continue on to hurt more humans.

The elytrian sighs at his silence. Annoyed that Techno’s seen through its trick?

“You’re as stubborn as a mule. Sure you don’t have some of that hybrid in you?” Phil asks sarcastically.

Cruel thing to say. “How many humans have you talked to without hurting or killing or tying them up?”

“Quite a few. Can’t say I like many of them, and you all don’t tend to like me. But I’ve met some that are kind. And things were different in this nation once upon a time,” Phil flicks at his clothes, picking through the first aid supplies discarded on a table.

“Humans and hybrids, living hand and hand?” Techno asks sarcastically right back.

Phil snorts out a laugh.

“No. But closer to it. Peace for the most part, trading and shit.”

Techno doesn’t believe that. You can’t ask a wolf not to kill you. Even if the wolf can talk back, can promise and lie. There are always claws on their fingers.

It’s a nice story though, he supposes.

“That must have been a very long time ago,” Techno mumbles.

“Yes. Though we didn’t end it,” Phil walks back over to him, pressing a wet cloth against his forehead. It stinks of herbs and flowers. “There’s no traveling groups of little human-hunting hybrids, are there?”

The cloth drips into Techno’s eyes, half blinding him. Phil fiddles it back up while forcing Techno flat so that it will stay put. Then he brazenly pats Techno on the head and turns to leave.

“Sleep, rest, yell if you need anything.”

The door is swung even further open as Phil leaves, but he does seem to fully leave. The hall outside is quiet, nearly as much as the room itself.

Techno gasps, the insides of his ribs feeling shredded. Did that arrow knick his lungs too? Something’s spread up to them at least.

That hybrid is trying to mess his head up. Just as much as his organs.

Sure, it is true that hybrids don’t team up the same way that humans do. That humans have to. But that’s because a normal hybrid fighting a normal human, the hybrid will always win. They’re wild animals, they’ve got the parts made for murder. And humans are weak and puny and die all the time.

If they don’t have training. Or they do something stupid. Like Techno did…

And this whole situation just shows what it would be like if hybrids teamed up to take out humans. So it’s good that they don’t…

Can’t. They must not be able to. Or else they would. If it was this successful.

There’s three different hybrids here, somehow. At least. They’re not supposed to co-mingle like that. Too many vulnerabilities. Doesn’t work with survival of the fittest. Doesn’t make sense when food gets short and things fall apart. They’d tear each other to shreds.

Even humans sometimes…

Techno lets out a huff as his heavy lids fall shut. The cloth on his head is freezing, but somehow that’s making him sleepy. Still, he wrests at his wrists below him. Over and over as he drifts off to the confusing thoughts.

—

It’s… getting hard to keep going.

His entire arms feel ready to slough off, more tired and pained than ever in his life before. It’s worse than his stomach. Which is saying something since that wound is surely infected from how a fiery fever has consumed him. That, too, is probably why everything hurts so damned bad.

A terrible whine pearls out of him, as he forces himself to continue. If he can shove at the ropes for long enough, they’ll have to loosen. He can already peel his sticky arms apart far more than before. But his stupid thumbs are still catching. If only he could slip them free, then, then—

Techno gasps as a horrid wave of sickliness washes over him. He feels close to fainting, though he clings to consciousness terribly. He’s slept too much, time keeps passing and his family could be falling into the trap at any second now.

This is survival. Techno’s done too much bad, he can’t let this hurt everyone too!

The sickness drops from his head, but it doesn’t dissipate. Instead, it sinks into his stomach and twists hard. Groaning, Techno jerks his head to the side, pinching his eyes shut as everything pinches up his throat.

Creaking retches force their way out of him, caustic around the edges. It goes on forever, making him more and more breathless. He wishes the sick would just come up so it would at least be over. Until finally, a bit of bile splatters out of his mouth, hardly a candle to the tears down his face.

It’s impossible to hold back the sobs he has been grasping at this whole time. He’s not a weak kid, he can’t let himself! And, and, he did this to himself!

Crying, Techno bites down on his already stinging tongue until the burst of pain shocks him. Then he bites even more.

No. No crying. No being any more weak than he already has been. Not until he fixes this. He refuses.

It’s hard to pull it all back inside himself, but he forces himself to. The pain, let it center himself. Even though it doesn’t. It just hurts really, really bad. Push further.

The angle rolled onto his side pulls the rope around his wrists taut, fully extended. His weight hanging on them is excruciating, but the loop is snug around the fat part of his hand, right about the first joint of his thumb. If it just slides over that…

Techno pants, quick and heavy. His head goes fuzzy with it, but that will help. He contorts his body so that his spine curves uncomfortably and his legs stretch back. All of his muscles hate him for it, especially the ones around his stomach wound. The pull makes him growl.

But just about, he can wedge the back of his heel between his wrists, pushing against the rope. He grits his teeth.

Then, with all his might, Techno slams his foot down and jerks his upper body forwards.

He’s ripped his arms off. 

Techno’s certain of it. The pain is horrific, far, far worse than being shot in the gut with an arrow or smashed about terribly. He only knows that he’s screaming from the numbness in his mouth, unnoticeable if he hadn’t fallen forwards and slammed into the ground.

His arms pop free, bouncing on the ground up towards his head. It colors his head white, fuzzy, but not even close to cotton fluff. No. Razor blades through pure rabbit fat.

The fear from just how bad the pain is makes his jittering eyes gravitate towards his arms, terrified of what he’ll find there. If there will be anything to find there, or just empty puddles of blood—

His gasp cuts off his noises, convinced that he is right. Then, a spasm that he feels every inch of goes through the limb and he knows most of it must still be attached.

Though, holding on by how much, he’s not sure.

And Techno can’t figure it out, since pounding footsteps, coming right towards him, announces the end of his plan before it has even begun. No, he can’t! Not after this, this, it’s too much!

Jolting forwards, even caving below his broken arms, Techno grabs the chair beside the bed. Gods, it is agony and his fingers hardly obey him with their atrocious complaints.

But he forces them to. This is life or death.

The red wing avian flies into the room, mouth open to let out those same wretched cries that got Techno into this situation to begin with. Techno hauls his body up, showering blood and lopsided.

“Wh-what the fuck—?”

Techno swings the chair forwards with all the might and the weight in his body. It hits the avian hard, though his shout is drowned out by Techno’s own. Through the moisture smearing everything, Techno turns and run out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

There’s nothing to be done with the fiddly door knob when his hands are all blood. And Gods are they all blood, black and pink and red, not a shred of flesh color on them. But he jams the chunk of wood from the chair under the door’s crack with his foot, uncaring of the damage it does. It doesn't even hurt to kick roughly through the agony.

Then, he’s too busy turning and running.

The front of the building and floating island, that must be where the way down is. It just makes sense, most hybrids would need that way to climb up, and that’s just how buildings work. And, and— It just has to be there.

Large globs of blood splash on the ground and walls behind him. A trail that even an infant could follow right to him. There’s nothing to be done to cover it right now. Once he gets onto the ground. Then he will, somehow. Just.

Down. He needs down.

Techno throws the front door of the blessedly empty building open, hardly caring to slow as he steps outside. He can’t just fall over the side again, though he feels like he might anyway, considering how everything is spinning. But he stumbles to a stop, looking around jerkily.

There’s some posts of wood in the ground, making up what almost looks like a docking port. Though there’s no boats to be had here. It’s—

Techno leans heavily on the post, groaning through his teeth. Looking down sends his head tumbling, round and round and round. He squints through it, starting to laugh.

There’s a ladder, impossibly still and supported on the sides by wooden hand holds. Techno’s still certain he will fall down it, but less of a chance than it should be. The fact that it is a ladder at all.

Choked noises leave him instead of the deep breath he wanted, but it’s close enough. He all but closes his eyes as he leans over and grabs on, twisting his body down onto it. He doesn’t want to see the mess of himself while trying not to yelp or crumble. It hurts too much even without seeing.

Holding on to the first rung, sharp lines of fire run up his arms with the movement and the grabbing and his weight hanging on them. That’s all a ladder is. Over and over and over. Techno can’t count the rungs, but there must be hundreds.

The tears try to fall again, rivaling his wrists in how wretched it is to hold them back. But he does. Somehow, he continues down.

The world smears and shakes and is agony. Or that could just be his body. The rungs are so slick with blood that he keeps almost falling, weak grasp hardly enough. Techno almost wishes he would fall. At least it’d be over quickly.

But his family wouldn’t know, they’d be all the easier to trick into hurting without him to tell them. Can’t, Techno can’t do that. The guilt weighs so much. It drags him down. Makes his limbs keep moving him down. He’s so, so thankful for it.

His wet fingers go numb as they slip over one rung, then two. He tries to hold on, but the pain is so—

Techno hits something firmly, air knocked from his lungs. He gags around his spasming diaphragm, eyes searching about. He’s near certain that the elytrian has caught him again. But—

His back is flat on grass and dirt. The world stretches out, all around him.

He made it.

Not, not yet. What was it that he had in mind…

The woods. Once he’s in the woods, he’s perfect. Free. Back to his family.

Techno makes himself roll over, then onto his knees, then up, up, up. He stumbles forwards, towards the closest smears of green and brown.

Utterly reckless and half blind, it’s a miracle he isn’t seen or caught by anyone. Because it’s obvious that more hybrids do live here. There’s buildings all about, many shaped odd and sandwiched between fields, but definitely places where people live. A whole tiny village. Full of hybrids.

At least the windows make him able to run despite it all, egging him on insistently. He keeps his arms pressed to his chest, trying to stop them from shaking, stem the blood dripping onto the ground. Neither are totally successful.

Still, somehow, he gets swallowed up by the trees, and then taller and taller brush as he staggers into the forest. Although he doesn’t want to stop, and it’s probably a bad idea considering how he’s slower than he should be, eventually he knows he’s just too close to falling over to not pause. Just for a minute. Just enough time for the pain to fade.

His back falls against the rough wood of a tree, stopping the spinning just a tad. Not enough though. His breaths are heavy and uncontrollable. They claw all the way up his throat, nails and all.

Talons.

Techno knows what he has to do now. He has to take stock of himself, put himself together as much as he can, and find a direction to start walking. It’s the only way that he’ll get some decent distance from this place, back towards his family.

The pain sings through his upper limbs, louder and brighter than anything conceived before. It even makes his ears hurt. Not even metaphorically. The pain is so bad that it leeches into the bones of his ears, making it hard not to sob.

But he forces his arms away from his torso, coughing roughly at the sensation of cloth peeling from open wounds. Some skin must get stuck to his shirt, since it distinctly snags and tears.

He falls down into a crouch, balanced on his knees, just about. Though the tree is still doing the major work.

With all the force he can muster, Techno lowers his eyes to his wrists.

They’re… not torn off of his body. He supposes. It’s far closer than anyone could ever want, though.

His right thumb is hanging awkwardly, nearly reaching to the end of his pointer finger from the odd angle. And though his left one doesn’t look quite as bad, it’s still resting far too far to the side. They obviously still had to pop out of the sockets to free his hands from the rope.

Though really, they aren’t the area of concern. If anything, Techno only noticed them because it was easier for him to conceptualize. 

Around his wrists, thick as though someone has grabbed the limb and squeezed, is a deep, rubbed open, blistering wound.

It’s not that bad in theory. What someone would expect from ropes rubbing against skin for hours and hours, days and days.

Except for how the wounds go clean down to his bones.

It’s not everywhere and the state of the injuries are difficult to make out through the thickly oozing blood. But across the backs of his wrists, where the ropes sat and he rubbed the most vigorously, the sharp white of bone peeks out. The skin has peeled back, like a horribly flayed fish, bubbly around the edges and so so irritated red.

The glistening, almost pretty, look of the bones and moving tendons—

Techno shoves his hands out of his line of sight, gagging. He thinks he’s going to be sick again, especially considering the sucking within his head and the horrific pain. But he just chokes in his throat until he wobbles to the ground.

Gods, it’s—

N-no. This is alright, he knew he'd have wounds to take care of when he escaped the ropes. He just needs to wrap them up right now so he can’t see them.

Or, no, so the blood doesn’t leave a trail to follow. Right, that’s why. Sparing a glance, Techno hiccups at the sight of blood splattering down like a candle thrown straight into an inferno. The wax is leaving him too quick for him to stay together.

But he grits his teeth. Even hiccuping and heaving behind his teeth. Techno… Techno did this. He has to take responsibility. And fix everything.

Sloppily, he tugs up his shirt and grabs at the bandages below. They’re wound too tight, especially when his fingers hardly listen and they make his arms hurt so bad. After several rough tugs and a growl, some of the bandages rip free.

They’re already stained with blood, but it’s better than nothing. Has to be.

He shoves the bandages against his wrists with a hiss, closing his eyes against the black spots that try to take him. 

Soon, Techno will be back with his family. He’s so close! They’ll be mad, but they’ll help him. And he’ll make it up to them. Everything can still be fixed.

He can still be useful. And survive.

Dizzily, Techno pushes himself up from the ground. It’s almost too difficult, like he’s on quick sand or something. More like quick-mud. That’s more dangerous in the woods, since there’s no sand and, and. There is mud. Streaks of red mix into the grass below his feet, staining it deeply.

All the more reason to get away from here. The sooner he loses the trail, the better.

If only it was easy to keep his steps light and purposeful. That’s alright, the blood is the real problem. Hybrids can smell it, somehow. They probably don’t know to look for tracks. Except, his parents did say it was important to learn how to hide them. So maybe they can?

His brain can’t make up or down of it. All he can think of is a hunting group of hybrids, right on his tail. They don’t do that though, they’re not smart enough. Only humans do that to hybrids, limping along…

A familiar crack in the air makes Techno gasp and freeze up. After a moment, he jolts under a tree and forces himself even stiller than just ice. He needs to turn to nothing, invisible beneath the black smudge of wings streaking across the sky above.

Techno holds his breath until it’s gone, and then a little longer.

Then he takes off into the closest approximation of a sprint as he can manage.

Elytrians fly so fast, Techno can’t even hope to out pace him. No head start would have helped, but he’d bet that Phil knows that he's gone by now. Which means that at least the one creature is looking for him, and maybe others.

All Techno can do is hide. Get far away and hide and then further away and hide again. Over and over, it’s the only chance. Right?

That’s the only plan Techno can think of, though the searing thirst in his throat sings that he’s missing something. He needs to find a water source, to start collecting food, to actually treat his wounds. Those things will take him out in a few days, slower than any hybrid, but just as deadly. Even though the survival skills have been ingrained in him, his mind is screaming too loudly beneath the feeling of being hunted to listen to it.

Techno doesn’t want to be killed. 

He can feel the air of an elytrian on his back, claws closing around his neck and squeezing. The lines there burn, hardly even a touch among the screaming pain throughout him. But that just makes the rest of him paint talons over his stomach and wrists, imagining just how bad it will feel when they dig in.

Techno can’t take more of the pain. It already hurts so bad and all he wants is his mom—

His foot catches beneath a branch, sending him forwards. It’s not the first time, and he’s already stopped trying to catch himself with his hands, since that’s unbearable. Plus, they must be close to falling right off of him. But this time, he doesn’t just smack into the ground roughly.

The ground falls away below him and he tumbles straight down and down. A gasp is punched out of him as he bounces off of a wall, violent and thrashing. Techno hardly knows when he actually hits the ground, spinning within the small basin.

Though, small describes the width more than anything. Techno looks up in confusion, groaning hazily. The sky is so far above him.

Eventually, he realizes that he should be looking at the sides of the earth instead, since that’s what he needs to crawl out of. But they don’t seem much closer to him than the sky. Easily taller than him. Possibly close to double his size.

Climbing up… should be easy.

But it isn’t. Techno knows without trying that it will be impossible.

That doesn’t stop him from trying. He really, really does. He can imagine his father’s disappointed face looking down at him, and it encourages his palms against the ground to push him up. But a single grain of his weight has him crying out and collapsing.

Techno tries a few times. He grits his teeth and breathes deeply and imagines himself out there, his family just out of the ditch.

He can’t get up.

At least… At least this place is kind of hidden. He needed to hide himself, so this is good, really. Techno will rest and he’ll feel better when he wakes up.

Then… he can finally get home.

—

No one knows when his mother started getting sick.

It was slow, she’d get better and then worse again. A flu or a cold or a spot of pneumonia. Techno’s still half convinced that’s all it was. Because maybe she was just tired.

One day she sat down and couldn’t get back up again.

It wasn’t the first day where it was like that. They’ve stalled a few days before till she was better. A couple times. Let her ride in the cart and went slow. Gave her a shoulder to lean on.

But a look went around when she couldn’t stand this time, and it was like everyone knew. Including her.

If you can’t walk, you can’t live in a traveling group.

But his mother did live in their traveling group! And so did his father, and his siblings. So did Techno!

He was the only one that didn’t know, it seemed.

“Just get up, then you can go a little longer!” Techno said.

He grabbed his mother’s arm, trying to pull her up. The limb was thin, just like the rest of her. So frail that he was afraid he’d break her. It’s not unfounded, she broke a rib coughing a couple weeks back. It wasn’t even a bad cough.

The circles below her eyes are dark and deep as she looks into Techno’s eyes. Her gaze looks like a sea, dead right before a storm. Or however the saying goes. Techno’s never seen the ocean. And he doesn’t like this look. She pulls her arm out of his grasp, clasping her hands together on her lap.

She looks tired. And not much more.

“Go on, already, you’re holding everyone up. Listen to your father, take care of your siblings.”

Techno wants to scream and lash out and do something until his mom listens to him and gets up! Or until someone helps her, or, or they all stay. She just needs one more day, Techno knows it!

But instead, he grits his teeth and turns away. 

One more day with his mother is just one less day making progress. They’re far from any towns and the nights are already getting colder. They haven’t caught enough things to buy food for the winter. Haven’t found any good trails. The little kids who haven’t learned yet are starting to whine through the nights.

Still, Techno’s shoulder hitch and his throat aches. The pain is terrible, even if he finds it slightly shameful. More people are staring at him than back at his mother. They’ve all already accepted it and moved on.

Everyone but Techno. With a hiccup, hot tears escape from his eyes.

It physically hurts. Why does crying hurt so bad?

As he curls around his middle and stumbles closer to the group, his father meets him a few steps away. For a moment, Techno doesn’t have any clue what the man will say. He knows that his parents love each other in some sort of way. The same sort of way that they love Techno and his siblings. It’s probably the same way that Techno loves them, right? Yet, he's leaving his mother behind. They both are.

Techno doesn’t know. His father is silent, there’s deep lines on his tanned face. Then, he lifts his hand towards Techno’s face, palm facing in.

The shock is enough that Techno pauses. All of him, even his breath, and probably his heart. The motion is very obviously not a hit, too slow, though Techno nearly finds himself expecting one. Perhaps because of the shame inside of him. His father does not hit him often, but it’d make more sense than anything else with a palm against his cheek.

And then, he does press his palm there. His father rests the pad of his thumb, calloused and warm, against Techno’s cheekbone. Right over the tear track marring his skin.

It's almost soft, almost warm.

His father wicks the tear away, a tad too much pressure.

“You're being weak. You know what will happen.” He will die. He does know. “Stop crying.”

It’s all finished then. His father walks off, calls for the men to gather and get the cart rolling, to pull their bows on in case something comes up. Everyone walks off, not a second glance back.

Except Techno’s younger brother. Except, he’s not looking at their mother. He’s looking at Techno.

The boy’s face is completely blank, though for the slightest of seconds, he looks into Techno’s eyes and seems deeply confused. The two of them aren’t far apart in age, they look very similar. Though his brother has less control, is less respectful, plays and whines too much.

He’s not crying. No one is. Except Techno.

His brother turns and leaves him behind too. The feeling of his mother behind him is palpable, like she’s somehow still close enough for him to feel her warmth. 

She hasn’t been that warm in a while, though.

Carefully, he does glance back at her once more as he starts away.

She’s looking at the sky, dull pink hair limp around her shoulders and hiding half of her face. The parts that peak out, sharp and carved in, are… calm. Her face is tipped to the treetops. She’s watching the sky, hands still clasped loosely in her lap.

Techno takes in a grand breath, forcing it not to choke on the way down. This is how it is. Don’t be weak. It will get him killed. It will get his family killed. The weak can not remain, they only hurt the rest of them. Like a rotting wound in the side of an animal.

Roughly, he shoves the saline down. It aches, it burns. The pain is as excruciating as molten razors, Techno feels it tear something. He gasps at the feeling, clasps his chest.

But that is all. The tears are done. Techno catches up to his family and heads onward.

—

“ —il! Fucking Gods, this is, this is ridiculous!”

Groggily, Techno’s brain dredges him upwards. He can feel that he’s on the cusp of something truly painful, dustings of ache gracing him. It’s hot and overfilling, dangerous adrenaline and iron.

An inhuman vwooping noise reaches him, stabbing sharply. It’s an utterly inhuman noise, though foaming with agitation.

Techno’s eyes are prying open and he’s sitting up at that before he can see, let alone think.

“And— Oh, great, great. Stay still down there, won’t you?” That reedy voice calls. “Phil!”

The world is smeared and gray around the edges, only growing darker as his quick pants ramp up his pain. It’s everywhere, hitting him so hard that he feels jolted forwards by it. He truly thinks that he’s been physically hit across the back of his head until he sightlessly reaches for his skull and finds that his arms have been replaced by liquid torment instead. His back slams into the dirt wall as he chokes on it.

“Phil! I found him! Where the hell is that stupid bird?”

The thing has continued to shout about, staticy sound filling the air and lifting the hair on Techno’s neck. Even that hurts, somehow.

Still, he sets his brow and forces his eyes to focus by sheer will alone. Everything is still washed out and blurry, but he can see enough.

It’s an enderman hybrid.

The purple skin is pretty obvious. Dark hair and towering tall, bending dizzily above him. The frilly dress they’re wearing can hardly be scoffed at, what with the mismatched glowing eyes and dangerous posture overshadowing.

Techno’s fingers dig into the soil behind him, a burst of pain from the motion shocking him. His upper limbs give out, a choked yelp balled up in his throat. Crumpled up in the bottom of the deep pit with an enderman hybrid over him, the pain feels like a rightful precursor to death. There’s enough blood for it, or he assumes with all the red around his peripherals.

As another angry clashing sound leaves the creature’s vocal cords, Techno turns and starts scrambling desperately at the tall walls of the embankment.

“Phil—Hey! Stop that, you’re going to— Phil! PHIL!” The enderman hybrid yells louder.

Techno has to jam his elbows into the wall for traction. Using his hands just makes his wrists hurt too damned much, making him black out and slip back down. His elbows still crash pain through his bones, but it’s an inch less bad, so that’s enough. Painstakingly, he can climb.

He forces himself faster, panic from having his back turned to the dangerous creature fueling him.

An uncontrollable cry leaves Techno as he’s forced to touch the wall with his whole hand for a second, in order to not slip down any further. He’s only a few more clawing steps away from the edge, if only.

“Oh, Godsdamnit, that foolish bird,” The enderman shouts, foot stomping, before a horrid vwoop splits the air.

The enderman is right before Techno then, leaning over the edge. The hand that reaches out for him is an even darker purple, nearly black down the long clawed fingers. The glowing freckles on their face and predator-like slitted eyes look so inhuman, Techno flinches on instinct.

His hold on the wall of the ditch falls away, and he falls right back down.

Except the thing’s limbs are so long and those dangerous claws snap him up before he can hit anything. The pair of them almost tumble forwards into the hole together, the enderman wheeling and stomping on their own skirt’s edge. But they end up crashing backwards with Techno tight in their arms, close enough to feel the displeased buzzing they’re making. It vibrates in his wounds horribly.

A sticky second ticks past, but then Techno is pushing away and thrashing. As much as he can, anyway. All of his limbs are too sluggish, but he manages a few kicks away, to the point he almost tips into the pit again.

The enderman grabs him, outright growling now.

“Stop it already! Urgh, stupid human—”

The enderman scraps with him, using every inch of their height against him. Perhaps in a different situation, Techno could break free. But there’s just so little left within him.

With a rough shove, the enderman upends him, holding down his shoulders and planting a knee right into his belly.

Techno gags as his eyes roll backwards, falling limp and fuzzy at the pop of pain that spreads from his split open middle. The pointy knee has stabbed his liver and lung clean through, it truly feels like it. All he can do is breathe shakily and waver.

“Ah, sh-shit…”

The weight lightens on him slightly and he can feel a sharp finger on his face, but he can’t do anything more than twitch and wheeze. His throat tastes like blood.

A faint noise graces the air, restarting the endermans’s incessant screaming of Phil’s name. Techno tries to kick but can barely shift his legs.

“Phil!”

“What happened?” The familiar voice follows a great wave of air from wings dropping towards them.

Struggling, Techno tries to get his body to move. He can just about shift before falling still from exhaustion.

“I—I don’t know! You said I didn’t have to touch him, but he kept trying to hurt himself. I held him down and he, he, I don’t know!” The enderman hybrid chitters.

“It’s fine, he was already hurt. Move over,” Phil says, kneeling beside Techno.

It’s like swimming up from the bottom of the ocean, but Techno manages to scowl at the elytrian. It sighs and shakes its head at him, before reaching for his arms.

“Death, what have you done to yourself?” Phil murmurs, gracing his wrists.

For a moment, Techno closes his eyes. He breathes deep and quick, filling himself with as much oxygen as he can. Anything to overpower the pain and weakness. He can still do it. He can, he can. 

He has to.

Desperately, Techno shoves his whole body to the side, swiping out towards Phil’s face. It’s sudden enough that Phil cringes back, but before he can land the hit, his hand is plucked up and he’s shoved back into the ground by his shoulders.

Techno kicks and thrashes and lets out a stupid scream. But then it’s gone. There’s no more, not right now. He collapses.

Phil sighs even larger now, breath rattling. His keen eyes are looking over him, examining the wounds, especially on his wrists. With a slight hiss, the elytrian clasps Techno’s elbows together so he can restrain his arm with one hand. Then he takes a look at the mess of bandages on his stomach, dripping blood again.

“Full of vim and vinegar, aren’t you? I didn’t truly mean it when I said to prove your confidence right, if it meant you getting killed, fledgling,” Phil says, laughing with only a smidge of amusement.

All Techno can do is glare, so he does his best at it.

The elytrian clicks at him, moving carefully until he picks him up. Techno tries to shove at Phil’s face, but a single push hurts his wrist too bad. He puts all of his effort into gritting his teeth, boxing up his insides as much as he can.

Vaguely, he can hear the enderman hybrid stomping behind them. Mostly because they are literally stomping and huffing and making a loud fuss. Phil doesn’t react much, which Techno supposes makes sense considering that its not the one at risk from the dangerous hybrid.

Enderman hybrid…

Makes sense that an elytrian and enderman hybrid are allies. Both of them are dangerous, not worth the effort of hunting. Though elytrians are more so, if only because they have less weaknesses. And they fight instead of flee.

But the fleeing part of endermen hybrids is the dangerous part. They can literally teleport. 

Makes tracking hard, though not impossible. They can’t teleport that far. In a way, it’s like young avians and their little baby flights. As long as one knows what to look for, it’s not too bad. But actually catching them is basically impossible. They can teleport away from spears and arrows, from reaching hands. And if one of them is skilled enough, it can even teleport right behind the human, slash them up before they even know it…

It’s only worth hunting enderman hybrids when it’s raining out. They hide in caves in these types of woods. And the caves here aren’t deep. Simple enough to corner them in there.

The claws around Techno squeeze slightly. He squishes his eyes shut, boxes everything in tighter.

“I got some blood on me. It’s disgusting,” The enderman hybrid complains, stomping closer. “Phil, you said—”

“I know. Thank you very much for helping out, Ranboo, no one else could do it,” Phil says.

“Well. Yes, that is true,” Ranboo says.

“Did the blood burn you? I can fix you up,” Phil says.

“No, I don’t think so. I rubbed it off quickly enough, but it almost did!” The enderman stomps closer. “And look! My skirt! And sleeves! Filthy!”

“I’ve got a deal for you,” Phil says. Techno stifles a cough. The elytrian walks faster.

It doesn’t affect Ranboo’s ability to stomp within earshot. Long legs.

“Oh?” The enderman asks.

“You let me use some of those special potions you have squirreled away on our little project here, and I’ll fix your clothes up, good as new.”

The conversation is bizarre, swirling within Techno’s head in the few seconds of deliberating silence. Clothes and… something. Who could ever care about such a thing. Is it a sign of impaired cognition? Stupidity.

Reminds Techno of some of those girls in town. The ones who made their hair and clothes pretty. Techno could never make his braids look like that, no matter how much he tried. Those girls didn’t seem stupid…

Mimicry then. Yeah, it has to be. Another trick.

“How many potions? Cause I really don’t have them, you know. But if I did, wasting them on a human is a bit much, don’t you think?” Ranboo eventually says.

Phil guffaws. “We want him alive, don’t we? He’s bled himself dry.”

“That’s not my fault, that he’s stupid,” The enderman hybrid mutters.

Something raw tugs at Techno’s chest, making his ribs squeeze tighter. It’s suffocating. Shame, but not just that. It’s not right for something like that creature to say that.

It is stupid when Techno tries to shove against Phil’s chest though, a useless escape attempt. The man doesn’t even respond beyond another chuckle. The trees are thinning around them, filling Techno with despair. He doesn’t know if he can do this again. And how will he even get further and succeed. He can’t have failed.

But he did. Again.

Maybe he is stupid.

“I appreciate it. Go on ahead, we’ll be in the community center,” Phil says.

The enderman audibly scowls some more, garbled inhuman noises. But then they’re gone in a poof. Techno thinly flinches. The elytrian hums down at him.

It takes off in a grand leap and flap of its wings.

The rush of gravity on Techno makes him gasp, feeling like he’s falling. All of his brain goes mushy, draining through the cracks in his skull. He tries to hold on, but he can barely even stifle his whines as everything wanes.

He blinks stickly, turning his head into something soft. Impulse makes him try to jerk away, though it’s not really successful. Luckily, it’s just a pillow, he notices eventually. The rest of him is limp on the hard ground.

He’s back in that damned building on the island.

A terribly exhausted sigh leaves him.

“Back with me?” Phil asks, tilting his cheek.

“Unfortunately,” Techno murmurs, barely a word.

Phil laughs. He’s gone for a moment, and then back with things. Clicking around his useless limp body. It could be dissection tools, preparing to flay him for dinner. Techno tries to sit up, but fails before he starts.

The elytrian clicks on in displeasure.

“Do you ever give up?”

“No,” Techno grits out.

Phil laughs again, breathy in an exasperated way. Techno doesn’t like the look in the man’s eye—creature’s eyes. It’s shining in some sort of way, soft. It must think Techno’s stupid struggles are amusing.

“You really are going to die at this rate, it’s obvious that you’re stubborn enough. Use your brain too. Live to fight another day and all that shit,” Phil says, picking through the supplies. “I’m sure one day you’ll be an unstoppable hybrid murdering force. Almost makes me want to see it…”

Techno breathes heavily through barred teeth. He hates the man and his patronizing. His false kind advice.

But, there’s a small point to it. Techno needs put back together before he can think about trying again. His lips slide shut and his head falls limply to the side.

“Did you faint?” Phil asks, leaning closer. At the sight of his open eyes, it sits back. “No? Alright, let me try to fix your wounds.”

From the bottom of Phil’s throat, Techno can hear a faint cooing noise. The vibrations feel strange on his tongue. Gingerly, Phil starts peeling back the ripped bandages, giving Techno something to focus on.

Namely, holding back screams and cries and thrashing and begging. He bites his tongue heavily.

The wound on his stomach is far worse. A thick layer of off white fluid splits for blood as the surface is revealed. It smells like puss and is hot as much as it is painful, skin purple-red in a thick ring all around.

“Fucking hell,” Phil mutters.

Suddenly, the elytrian snaps forward and grabs Techno’s chin hard. His breath freezes.

“Look. See? No more escape attempts that hurt yourself. Fucking understood?”

Widely, Techno blinks a couple times. Then, he remembers that his face actually shows those expressions and he squints roughly, jerking his face out of the grip. Phil lets him go, but lets out displeased bird noises.

“Pigheaded fledglings,” Phil mutters to himself. “Take a breath.”

Then, the elytrian dumps a cup of herb scented water over the wound.

Techno understands the instruction, since the splashing liquid punches all of the air out of his lungs. Thready little gasps try to scratch at his throat, but it’s impossible. His entire abdomen is full of too much fire, it’s eating up the oxygen greedily. The heat makes him sweat all over, somehow freezing at the same time.

Shivering and jerking, Techno slams his jaw shut. He nearly swallows his tongue, but it forces down the pitiful noises too, so all the better. He doesn’t dare blink until the sheen in his eyes disappears.

Blood is flowing more quickly now, scalding against Techno’s skin. He shivers without a word.

“If the infection gets any worse, the tissue will have to be cut away, or else it will get into your organs. Even stubborn humans can’t will themselves not dead from that,” Phil says.

Just about, Techno manages to roll his fluttering eyes. Phil snorts.

More of the stinging liquid is poured over him, curdling below his skin. He only has trouble holding back his gasp when the elytrian pulls out a cloth and starts gently rubbing the injury.

“Oh, ew,” A snarky voice says. Techno chokes on an annoyed sigh he lets out.

Ranboo is back. They’re carrying bottles of glowing liquid and a few other things. Nothing Techno really knows about. Probably creepy-enderman-floaty-island-dumb stuff.

“Not everyone understands me-time and rest like you do, Ranboo,” Phil snarks right back.

“Well, good to know my actions have been proven inarguably correct once more,” Ranboo says, smiling. Looks a little forced as they edge around the blood puddle.

“Of course.” Phil holds its hand out, accepting the bottle when it’s set in it.

It really is glowing. That’s weird. Bright pink glowing liquids are not normal. Why’s Techno the only one that finds it abnormal?

Oh, right, cause they’re hybrids. And freaky glowy stuff isn’t weird to an enderman hybrid and their— its, its weird, evil, elytrian friend.

Phil douses a cloth in the suspicious liquid before laying it right on the open wound. 

Techno bites through his tongue, does not hiss or let his eyes water, and kicks Ranboo right in the fashionably, but not strategically appropriate, exposed ankle.

“Ow! What the hell? This is why I didn’t bring you a golden apple!” Ranboo yells.

“Sorry, I meant it for—” Techno says, before kicking Phil in his wing.

“Oh, okay, fair. And also I didn’t bring you a golden apple, cause humans can’t have them. Right, Phil? Phil?”

“Right,” Phil sighs. Why is he lowkey smiling? Techno would kick him again if his side wasn’t on fire.

Oh, right. The potion or whatever, it is hot where it touches his skin. And he’s quite certain that it’s actually temperature hot and not just his burning nerves. Though they’re definitely sizzling up to his throat, trying to wrench something out of him. He refuses, watching the slightly warm cloth for any signs of actual sizzling beyond the wisps of steam.

“I don’t think you used enough, he’s not screaming enough,” Ranboo says.

“Humans can’t be exposed to a lot of magic, remember Ranboo? What you just said?” Phil says.

“I know, and it was a good point for you to remember, but I think he should be screaming a little,” Ranboo says.

Phil hums in acknowledgement, peering at Techno’s face.

“I’ll make you scream a lot-le,” Techno threatens. Blood drips out of the side of his mouth.

“Definitely enough potion,” Phil says, tossing the cloth away. 

The wound is more red and fresh with blood, but less fester-y. It gets covered up by clean bandages, tied tight enough to make his vision go out for seven solid seconds before the pain fades. Well, it doesn’t fade, but his vision comes back and all the moisture stayed inside his eyelids. So just as good.

“Wrist time. Can you sit up?” Phil says, grabbing a whole dish of the horrid herb-y water, dripping some horrid potion in it too.

Techno shoves his palms into the ground, bites a chunk of his cheek out, and sits up.

“Hm,” Ranboo says. “It’s getting creepy.”

“You’re creepy,” Techno says, pointing at the tall purple guy. Creature.

Except his very nearly sawed through wrist can not hold up the weight of his hand, falling limply from the damaged tendons and looking a second from sloughing off. Phil grabs his elbow, pulling it away and holding it firmly. More scoldy bird noises. Techno very nearly copies the sounds inadvertently when stifling his pain.

“Save your spite to stay conscious for this, why don’t you,” Phil says, manhandling Techno’s wrists over the bowl.

As if. Techno sets his jaw even harder, willing his face to stone.

It’s hard when Phil starts carefully pouring water over the burnt and burrowed into skin. It also dabs away the congealed blood, which reveals the full depth of the wounds, and the nasty blisters all around the edges. Ranboo quickly makes  disgusted noise before turning away and walking off.

Techno doesn’t let himself waver, doesn’t pay mind to the shaking in his lungs. If he does, the dam will crack and everything will pour out, down into the swirling red water. Dizziness and nausea mount within him, but he swallows mouthfuls of sweet saliva and blinks liberally. Helps keep his eyes completely dry, as they should be.

His arms are spasming by the time Phil wraps warm, potion covered cloth around them. It burns up his bones, through his veins, over his tendons. The sun is being shoved in him.

Phil is looking at him, into his face. It allows Techno to glare, just barely.

That only makes whatever confusing expression is on Phil’s face, in his—its dark eyes, deepen. Techno bares teeth, which just has Phil layer a small, crooked smile on it too.