Chapter Text
“That just looks plain silly,” Midvalley the Hornfreak comments as he watches Ninelives drive the truck behind the Goodman manor. It stutters and swerves around as it barely keeps on track.
“I think they like the idea of some normality,” Hoppered’s gaze follows the sight. “Driving a car, having a house. Those are things normal people do.” Both pairs of eyes fall onto the trail of blood following the car’s route. “You think someone is still alive in there?,” Hoppered adds with hesitation.
“I doubt that Bluesummers is so neglectful to let anyone live.”
“But… but… they were just doing their job! We… Couldn’t we just let them leave? We are breaking camp anyway…,” the living bullet casts his eyes down.
“And leave something, anything behind for them to find us?”
“They wouldn’t. We barely know where Knives wants us!”
“Yeah?”, Midvalley points to the manor. “Are you completely sure that we didn’t leave anything behind? That Ninelives has picked up every last page, it dropped a week ago? That nothing, no crumb, no scribble cast aside neglectfully is left for a bloodhound to take chase?”
Hoppered crumbles. “No, I am not. But I also think Knives is inevitable.”
Midvalley listens. Legato is far away enough, concentrating on his mode of transport. “It may be. But I doubt it counts every human it will kill. Some may be able to hide and lay low,” Midvalley presses his lips to a fine line.
“In today’s day and age, that is a lofty goal.”
“Maybe…”
"I hope you reach your goal, Midvalley."