Andromeda wasn't taking any chances.

Peeking out of what appeared to be little more than an animal's "burrow hole," it was obvious to Chris that the queen was prepared for war against a nation.

And what did he have? His injured self and the princess. Though Cassie's fairy gifts were astounding, they were not in the brute strength category. And then there were four civilians and four fairy children. At least they could fly or were little enough for someone to carry long-term.

Otherwise, it was hard to tell that evil was in their midst. The forest was thriving with life. The day was unexpectedly warm for the early morning hour and their degree "north" of where "summer" could typically reach. The uninterrupted sunshine was there to provide him with a good sense of position, direction, and the layout of the land. Angelica had said they'd exit north of Pyxis. Based on his roundabout misadventures a few days prior, that seemed about right.

Chris ducked back underground. He re-covered their intended exit from the caves with browning pine needles and returned to the others.

They were sitting in a circle, waiting for his report—eating the last of their food, their tones hushed, probably to keep their opinions from reaching his or the children's ears.

"Here's what I've got," Chris said, squeezing into a kneeling position beside Cassie. "We send up a couple of fliers to act as scouts. When the coast is clear, we find my human pack. It's hidden in the branches of a balsam fir, not far away, I hope, and has the remaining supplies we would need to survive with ease out here. I recognize the area and know I left it northwest of the city. From there, we wait until nightfall. Then with all of you safely tucked away, I Modify and make a run for it. First, farther west to evade the worst of their bulk. All night if I have to. Then, once we feel it's safe, we'll turn south, then east."

There were unsure glances around the circle, but no nods of agreement.

Cassie was the first to speak: "Chris, that's too dangerous. There's one of you and likely thousands of them in one form or another. They could spot you within moments."

"I'm fast and I've done a similar operation in hostile territory before," Chris assured her. "And I lived to tell the tale."

"Yes, but you're injured."

"True. I'm not at my best."

Chris's fever had come down, but he was still experiencing a lot of discomfort at the site of the unicorn stitches. It wasn't just skin that tore. The cut went through muscle too. He felt much better when he took the "Poppy Tear Elixir," but it made him drowsy or a bit spacey if he pushed through the need to sleep. He therefore had to use it sparingly.

"I suppose the alternative would be to stay at fairy size for a while," Chris mentioned as well, his Plan B. "It would be better for the injury. I know from experience that during Modification, wounds aren't always an exact transfer. There can be tearing and bleeding. We'd more likely evade notice as well. But we'd lose the extra boost of might if we do get discovered, plus time, extra supplies, shelter, and human conveniences like GPS—that's an almost foolproof way to determine where we're going—and also the car I have about a two-day human hike from here, maybe three days when we consider our westward setback. The keys are too heavy to carry at fairy size and we'd probably never find the car without the GPS anyway." He looked from one worried face to another. "I think we should bring the pack. But I'm not going to force a decision on anyone just because I'm the 'big' one here. I'd say let's bring it to a vote. . . ."

They let ten-year-old Victor have a say in case of a tie. The final count was four to three. Chris was going to run through a barrier of Gray Coats and the hovering swarm of Crown Champions at human size and with an army transport pack strapped to his injured back.

As the others rose to prepare for the next phase, Chris and Cassie remained side by side, the weight of their disagreement heavy in the air. She was among the three to vote against his Plan A.

"I'm sorry."

"There's no right way," Cassie replied, face neutral, eyes forward. "You don't have to apologize." Then she left, too, without looking back.

So she says. . .

Not long after, Orion and Carina flew from the cave's escape route and signaled for clear passage. Then Vela, Angelica, and the children met them in the tree branches.

Chris looked to Cassie. It was their turn to go. They were bound to the forest floor because of their winglessness. Yet with her nod and a look that had more pull than gravity, they were linked by so much more. She may not have agreed with the group consensus, but she was behind him one hundred percent. And he needed that. Even if luck was on their side, it was going to be a rough few days.

With the scouts sent out ahead, Chris directed everyone uphill and north. Soon, though, they encountered a transformed Gray Coat stomping through the area. Everyone took cover. For lack of a better option, Chris and Cassie were forced inside a rotting tree trunk. It launched the inhabiting insects into angry motion.

The hissing, the tickling, the foaming—all the ingredients of creepy and gross—it was almost too much to handle, even for Chris and he was no stranger to the dank, dark crawly sort. At their size, it came with the territory. The princess, however, pressed the whole front of herself against Chris's body, and rattled as if the world were freezing over. In his embrace, he protected her from the wriggling onslaught as best he could. "You're doing fine. It'll be over soon," he whispered.

He felt her nod and thankfully, he spoke the truth. He heard Carina's "Pssst. All clear," just a few of Cassie's deep, labored breaths later.

The fresh air was a relief, but despite it all, he found himself missing the uninhibited closeness. There were never enough moments like that. The ones they had were never allowed to progress to any natural conclusion. There were too many eyes, too many interruptions, so much that was unknown to them, and thousands who wanted them dead. And if he failed today, they would never get their chance to be together.

The thought caused a deep ache that only success could remedy. So he squeezed Cassie's hand and glanced back at her, his source of strength. Chris used it to find his speed and push through the actual aches and pains. And without too much directionless wandering, they located the balsam fir concealing his pack.

Chris and Cassie climbed the cord and with the others, they waited until nightfall. They were another step closer to a new beginning.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

"Will you be all right in here?"

Cassie was tucked inside a pouch of Chris's pack and for the first time in many years, she was gazing up at his Modified face. The moonlight was enough to illuminate the dark streaks underneath his eyes, self-inflicted for camouflage. His anxiety and exhaustion provided their share of shadows too. But he only had to worry about his own safety. As long as he was doing well, she would be just fine.

She gulped down her own worry and nodded. "Is there anything else you need?"

Chris had his share of food and drink and had slept the afternoon away. The medicine helped. He so very much needed the rest.

Then came the Modification process. He was writhing in pain for a few very tense minutes. Fortunately, there was only a little bleeding and the agony gradually subsided to a sting, a burn, and then the wound resumed its usual ache, or so he said.

He lifted each shoulder, one at a time, and then arched and released the muscles in his back. "No, I'm good to go."

Chris wanted to say more. She could tell by the hesitancy in his voice. He was also giving off an affectionate vibe that was being punctured by a tangible fear of failure. But the fairies in their company were lined up in pouches around her and they were watching and listening as well.

Cassie closed her eyes and attempted to give him a message with more meaning. I love you too. And no matter what happens, I'll be with you, always.

Right before he closed the flap of his pack, she caught a flicker of a smile. Whether her message was clear or subtle, it appeared he captured her intent.

Cassie was then in dark that was absolute. Retreating into a ball at the bottom of the tight space, she could hear the whispers of the others. She was alone, though, the way she chose to be, and she did her best to tune them out. She wanted to feel, sense, or better yet, see what was happening on the outside. If she could. . .

Four years earlier, patience, practice, and some eventual time alone with Chris allowed her the occasional glimpse of his thoughts. Since she never meant to intrude, and wouldn't dare at a bad time, she believed it was a gift he gave to her. He had to lower his defenses and "open up." Every now and then, he had let himself be vulnerable in her company. Trust wasn't whole at the time, but there were moments of progress.

They had come so far since then. Yes, she was out of practice, but now their trust was truer, deeper, and more unconditional than ever before. No outside force could break it, not this time.

As Chris began his quest, his motion—a sprint, a crawl, a creep—or his sudden lack of movement—a dodge or a crouch—helped Cassie extract many additional sensations.

Even though heading west was logically the best option, Andromeda did, indeed, have a seemingly impassible perimeter in place around Pyxis.

Chris dropped to the ground. But in the dark, he could see. He was using some sort of night goggles.

Gray Coats, human sized, on patrol. Torchlight, flickering between the tree branches. The Crown Champions. Ground clusters, too, both winged and wingless. Not everywhere, but it would be a challenge to sneak through at human size. And that was his goal. Chris didn't want a fight. He didn't want any pursuers. One alert soldier would mean an alert army, and he would never be able to outrun or overpower more than a few of them.

He lurched for a blip, but then quickly resettled. He didn't have enough time or an ample enough opportunity. He needed something better. But would something better ever come?

Cassie tried to reach further into Chris's mind and beyond. What was in the forest that could help him?

The evil surrounding them was like a blanket of smoke, a pungent purple-black. And yet there were light strokes of bluish gray she was detecting in the breeze, a sign there was another type of brain activity out there.

There came a howl.

Come to me. . .

A gray wolf pack—one that did not particularly appreciate a certain group of "gray" invaders—began charging past Chris. They were noisy and aggressive, and their exact coloring, size, and pattern of movement were impossible to predict.

Scrambling along on all fours, Chris didn't hesitate to join their parade. In the dark and chaos, Gray Coats stumbled out of the way, Modified, or prepared themselves for defense. But they must have been too surprised, unmotivated, or bound to duty to launch a counterattack on the animals.

Movement remained frantic, jerky, bumpy, on terrain that nature didn't intend for man's easy passage. Chris stayed with the wolves. Or they stayed with him. Soon, though, he couldn't keep their pace. There were knobby hills and slick conditions, and he was in too much pain. It was so overwhelming for him that Cassie could feel it too.

The wolves veered north.

Thank you.

Chris fell to his knees and set his pack aside.

You're doing fine. The worst is over.

His eyes closed. As his breathing slowed, his thoughts went entirely inward.

Cassie drifted inside his imagination and was startled to see an image of herself—Chris's perception of her.

From what Cassie knew of "men," which really wasn't very much, she didn't expect Chris to hold her hand or gaze into her eyes for very long. But she wasn't expecting the immediate intensity and heat, either. Even more shocking, Cassie may have been more timid and less experienced of the two, but she certainly wasn't coming across that way.

They were in the forest, right where Chris stood. Clothing was a blur, but they got enough of it out their way. Then he picked her up, pressed her against . . . and himself inside . . . again and again . . . and she saw her own face over his shoulder. And she was ohhhh so. . .

Cassie pulled out of his mind, breathless. It was a lot to take in and understand, and it was an invasion of his privacy that she could no longer justify. Her curiosity wasn't a good enough excuse, but it was tugging her essence back to him in a way that was so frustratingly pleasurable that it was almost nauseating.

Before long, Chris was on two feet again, running. And Cassie retreated into her own mind for a while, seeking a different sort of strength. But she wasn't sure if she was hoping for patience or confidence. For now, she had neither.    

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Down Like Silver. Wolves.

~

"When I die you can push me out to sea

When I die set me free

When I die let the sharks come 'round to feed

When I die set me free"

https://youtu.be/j9A9NzS2WKY