A/N: Why, this is very long. 

___________________________

Friend or foe—

I don't know.

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The unsettled rain that clouded the sparrow's mind was not one that would vanish as quickly as it had come. It manifested in his anxious eyes that darted every now and then at a rustling bush or falling leaf that was the result of a mere breeze.

Io was sure, then—that he was worried about Luka.

What exactly was he upset about?

Was it a sheer instinct of fear that incited unnecessary emotions? And was he to trust them?

The prey's thoughts—in the midst of their unraveling—paused to coil back into a messy ball underneath the bed of his mind when he was offered a chocolate energy bar.

Slayne had produced the snack out of his own bag of rations, tore the wrapping in a swift, soundless movement, and given it to Io without much of a smile or a frown.

The sparrow accepted it gratefully, ensuring that Pipa was leaning safely against a tree as support before taking a bite of the tasteless bar.

He touched her hand.

It wasn't as cold as before.

A weak wave of relief lapped against his heart and Io promised—to no one in particular—that everything was going to be just...fine.

Well, but that was until he heard a falcon's call from the skies above—which again, sent him into a jittery frenzy of panic.

The snowy owl hushed him, stretching out a hand in Io's path to stop him from going anywhere.

Soon enough, Dimitri made an unnecessarily garish and flamboyant landing that consisted of nothing but a flurry of striped hazel feathers; followed by the appearance of the human form of what seemed to Io more like a golden statue than anything else.

Of course, he had messy blond hair.

Io didn't know why he associated that to golden statues, but he did. If he asked, Pipa would have said that he wasn't badly built at all.

Built. Built, like how you build a statue but also referring to someone's form at the same time—

Slayne snapped his fingers in front of Io's eyes, chasing away distracting thoughts that often surfaced whenever the sparrow was over-reacting.

Dmitri stepped forward, inspecting the subject of the trade. Yes, to him it was a mere subject that simply happened to have the same number he did—the Ace. After all, he already had his current prey to entertain himself with—

Wait.

No; wait.

Dmitri thought the girl quite resembled his pleasing red-factor canary.

The shape of her nose; the small of her lips; even her chin.

The falcon was amused—very amused.

Perhaps this season wouldn't be so boring after all. He was beginning to feel Kipa's reluctance when listening to his orders. He had needed something...someone to spice things up.

He reached for her arm to tug her upright but Io cut in fearfully, shaking his head as a sort of timid objection. Dmitri frowned disapprovingly, glancing to Slayne with a raise of his brow.

The latter sighed, slipping the crumpled origami paper out of his back pocket and pointing to the words he had written just moments ago.

He will bring your friend to the exit safely.

There were many doubts in the sparrow's head and they seemed to tangle with the others from before but none seemed to point to the possibility of choice at all.

Helpless; he could only watch as his grip on Pipa's arm slackened, and Dmitri hoisted the girl over his shoulders effortlessly. Glancing at Lyra who had Pipa's Avian in a makeshift hammock, the predator beckoned with a finger—transferring the unmoving bird into his canvas bag.

Io was very worried that Sylvester might not even have sufficient oxygen in that stuffy bag or might even get his wing broken in such an uncomfortable position; but he knew not how to break it to the falcon.

Not that he could in the first place. They weren't allowed to speak.

Dmitri wasted nothing more than a second in taking Pipa's charm from her neck, transferring it to his own Avian instead—as if bestowing a gold medal upon a champion.

He did not bother about bidding the pair goodbye; nor did he do anything specific to thank Slayne for the free catch. He simply started in the opposite direction, in which he came from, but now with Pipa on his back and Sylvester in his bag.

And of course, a gold medal on his Avian's neck.

The Nocturne watched his fellow predator's back recede—the silent rule of space obeyed before his eyes. If predators were to meet, it was regarded as proper for them to leave in opposite directions as a sign of a truce. The reverse of this, however, would be a sign of hostility.

Slayne began writing his last note to the sparrow before they would set off in search for the finish.

He handed it to a glum sitting Io, who read it lifelessly.

It's regarded as the third and the final phase now, searching for the exit. We need to stay safe. Is your charm with the golden eagle?

Io nodded. He hoped so, at the very least.

The last thing he wanted was his charm to be in the hands of the vulture.

At that point of time, Io hadn't considered what the possession of his charm really meant. In all truth, he had only thought about the Joker's Mark as a sign of victory. Having spent some time with Luka, he had found it less consequential for the eagle to win. The vulture however—it was clear he had something to do with Pipa's state, but what?

Either way, was it alright to let someone like that win?

But then again, what could he do to prevent—

Slayne held out a hand to the sparrow, offering to help him up. Io accepted it, a little reluctantly, and it was in that moment when he felt a dark shiver running like a shock from where they had connected. He held his breath the entire time until he was helped up to a standing position, then jerked his hand away.

The Nocturne didn't make much of that. He knew what a predator's touch could do—why wouldn't he? There wasn't a time when Jiro didn't flinch at their contact, no matter how hard it seemed to tug at his chest.

Taking their rations and setting off northwards with Slayne's Avian skimming just above the forest, the search for the finish had come—with a nasty surprise that awaited beyond.

_________________________________

It was hard to call it a pleasant journey; even if Io were to summon all the courage he had to be as positive and cheery as his friend Pipa, the prospect of a smooth and delightful search just seemed bleaker than Io's future. Or so he thought.

Though glad that he wasn't alone, it sure felt like he was. Somewhere along the way, Io had begun to miss the conversations that he had with the golden eagle just the night before.

At present, the afternoon sun was close to the peak of its rage and all the sparrow could think about was how thankful he was that someone was leading him—although of course, that person could have been a little more friendly as company.

It wasn't that Slayne was being unfriendly, per se. He simply thought little of striking up conversation with someone he didn't need to converse with. Moreover; he was, for all intents and purposes, tired. He hated the sun. He despised the heat of the day. He loathed the cheerful sky—and his Avian couldn't help but agree.

She was leading them towards a high point that she had spotted, just a little to the west on their journey. Had Io not slowed them down with his ant-like speed of traversing, forcing her to be more aware of their surroundings, surely the owl would have missed the bit of rock jutting out of the greens.

But that was not the only thing that came into view.

There was a lake below it—a small one, barely noticeable due to the trees that concealed it in their embrace. Slayne's Avian informed him of the water source, and he commended her on the find.

.

Io should have known.

He should have noticed that the weight in his legs were getting heavier and heavier—

He should have noticed that they were going uphill.

But he didn't.

He was too tired to react to the gradual incline in the forest, or the fact that the undergrowth was thinning to stone.

So when he was faced with a good fifteen-meter-drop (without stairs, mind you), the blues of a lake underneath lapping calmly against rock, the only rational thing he could do was to panic.

Slayne hadn't turned to the jittery sparrow trying to catch his attention.

Instead, his eyes remained fixed ahead—trying to gain a good advantage of this view.

There.

There it was;

The tiny, almost miniscule hole from where he stood, only visible from a certain angle blocked by towering trees, looking as if it was cut out from the walls of the Box itself—the rectangular hole missing its door that Slayne had seen many a time since he first entered in the season games, clinching one of the top predatory positions—the Finish.

The exit; just perhaps about a mile away.

Slayne turned to Io, triumphant—only to see that the sparrow hadn't noticed what he was looking at. He snapped his fingers impatiently, tugging Io to the edge where he was standing but Io was frightened.

He jumped with a start, pulling away violently with a shake of his head—refusing to take the Nocturne's place.

Slayne let go; confused.

And he had very good reason to be, for he did not know of the sparrow's fear of heights.

Io squatted down, hugging his knees that were more than just slightly wobbly. His eyes fixed themselves on his shoes.

Slayne knew that they had no time to waste. One; they were out in the open. Two; someone could see them and catch on to the exit. Three; that person could very well be Vaughn or one of his many eyes—spies.

There was no communication involved.

Slayne didn't want to take out paper and pen once again just to write a long (perhaps illegible) speech of how Io should just overcome his fears once and for all. Not to mention, the origami paper he had used from before was filled with his previous messages. He wasn't in the mood to reduce his letters to the size of a fly.

Grabbing the prey's arm quite forcibly, he yanked once.

"No!"

The cry was involuntary—a reflex. Io hadn't meant it at all.

The word rang sharp in their ears, holding the air fixed in time for a brief second—

Before a warning call sounded in response.

Someone was coming.

Slayne snapped towards the sparrow, eyes narrowing in blame and frustration.

He glanced over his shoulder; searching the skies for something—someone.

They were empty. Not even a single cloud.

It seemed to Slayne that they were making way for something bigger; the arrival of an honored guest.

He turned to Io once again, ice in his eyes.

"Listen, the eagle banked on me to take you to the exit. We have a total of five miserable bars left—that's not enough for us to make a turn down again or last for another day so are you just going to sit here, starve, and die, or take the fucking jump and finish before nightfall?"

The Nocturne knew that he would be coming soon, and since one of them had already broken a rule he figured might as well put his point across for the sparrow to fully comprehend the situation.

Io took a step back from Slayne, the darkness in the latter's gaze livid. His words pushed onto the sparrow a sharpened truth that stabbed through paper-thin lies, splattering the remnants of its craft over his red heart.

No—no, it was too high. Too much; too far; too great—

His legs gave way and Io was no longer crouching. He was kneeling.

"Get the fuck up—" Slayne had started under a breath of frustration, hooking his arm under Io's in attempt to help him up but the call of a hawk seemed to dictate a change in plans.

It was a sign of arrival.

The sun encroached on Io's field of vision, blinding half of it with strange black spots when he raised his head in response to the call.

There was something there—Io felt its presence and he found it frighteningly familiar.

Slayne's Avian informed him of the hawk's arrival, but he brushed it aside for it was a fact that he had already known. The predator in flight had a peculiar item snagged between its claws—something far too big to ensure a swift journey—but the hawk held it all the same.

Diving silently upon nearing the lake, its wings spread wide to a slow, landing without a sound as it morphed into a he.

It was Faustes—the Deputy Headmaster.

The man shook his head with a sigh.

"You two again?"

Io had already taken more than three steps back upon noticing the closing distance of the predator; but it was only after recognizing the man as the professor who had briefed him about the season games when he decidedly took a few more steps back.

This time, he was definitely in trouble.

Neither of the pair responded to Faustes rhetoric; with Slayne glaring at Io—who seemed to be more interested in his shoes than anything else—and the latter simply trying his best to avoid conflict.

The click of a pen was heard followed by the sound of it moving across paper. Io noted that the peculiar item that the hawk had between its talons turned out to be a clipboard—which was probably what he should be fearing the most because it seemed to be dishing out the punishment for his breaking of the rules.

"Right. I need you to check the committed offence," The professor on duty went on languidly, handing the clipboard with a list attached to it, "Sign beside your breed, and remember to serve your punishment after the games. If you're still alive, anyway."

He said all of this very simply—as if he had done so many a time.

Io stared palely at the list.

Apparently, he wasn't the first to breach the rules. There were other names above his; poor souls who had, just like him, forgotten them on a whim, had no choice, or had perhaps decided that it was worth the punishment—whatever that involved.

He gulped, glancing up at Faustes.

"Sign it."

Io shook his head once, insistent, but afraid of the consequence.

Faustes sighed. "Going against the umpire is also considered as breaking the rules."

But why?

Why him—the owl spoke too! Shouldn't both their names be on the list?

"I—I'm sorry," Io swallowed all protests, signing beside the offence that stated: Speaking without permission.

Before he handed the clipboard back to the professor who appeared very eager to leave, the sparrow blurted something which he soon regretted.

"Are you sure you don't need to write another name?"

Faustes turned on him in full surprise, seemingly shocked before he narrowed his eyes. "No, sparrow. I don't."

Slayne didn't look surprised at all. He merely clicked his tongue in annoyance—as if making a point that this was all a waste of his time. His eyes trained on the finish right ahead, focused; yet distracted.

"But—"

"Another word from you and that will be your second offence," The Deputy Headmaster added as a warning, clicking his pen once more almost as if that was a threat itself. How he had heard Io's voice from such a distance—the boy did not want to know. Everything seemed absurd at this point;

The whole world seemed to be watching—

Pointing fingers at him.

Io swallowed every word once more, doing his best to calm the monsters rattling at the bars of his cage—yearning the imminent escape.

Faustes, not wanting any more to do with the pair of troublemakers—more specifically a certain talkative sparrow, or so he thought—shifted into his Avian's form and took to the skies in return to his post.

Io stood very still; heart beating furiously in its cage.

His questions thrived—

But there was no one to answer them.

______________________________

No!

Luka froze, head snapping towards the desperate whisper that the west wind had decided to pick up.

But it wasn't a whisper; it was a cry. A cry that wasn't too loud at all save for ears like his and—

Why—what a desperate voice! How pleasant. The eagle had heard Vaughn's thoughts and needless to say, he was disgusted.

Both predators had been engaged in close combat for quite some time; perhaps initiated by the vulture in attempt to hold his foe back and steal the most precious and irretrievable possession of all: time.

Stalling—yes, Luka knew that was what the vulture was trying to do and of course, someone like himself, though cunning, knew not the others who stood on the extreme of this spectrum. The ones who were willing to take risks; the ones who come from behind.

The eagle had established the difference in their strengths well throughout the flight, accelerating and changing courses at will but it didn't take him long to realize that Vaughn was a sort of leech that clung to human skin. There was no shaking him off when the latter had access to his tailwind.

It was then; in that moment of foolish condescendence, that Luka had turned to sink the fact of his strength into Vaughn's mind when his wings were met with the scaly sensation of a vulture's talons about to sink into flesh—

Fuck, that was close. He had banked, dropping in altitude at the last second before realizing that the vulture was planning to attack him.

This was, really, a typical example of how Vaughn managed to catch predators off guard.

One—at a time.

Only because they viewed him as something unworthy; something inferior; something—like a scavenger.

.

It's not—

Luka, it is! Victoria rarely panicked. She never did, really; this was the first time Luka had heard her voice grow sharp and jittery with impatience. The sparrow—it's him. That's his voice—we heard him just last night, don't you remember?

The eagle snapped that he did. Of course he remembered.

After all, how could he forget?

Why—what a desperate voice! How pleasant. Luka stilled, eyes wide at the very sound of his voice. It wasn't how he thought it would sound at all.

Scaly; slurred; unpleasantly gruff; throaty, even—but no.

Vaughn's voice was so...so sweet—

As if he had sucked and extracted it from the sap of life itself to store it in his selfish throat—it was awfully, awfully sweet.

The voice lined with silk lasted long in the back Luka's mind, weaving a web of fear.

No—no, The eagle dispelled the encroaching darkness. Get a grip, he doesn't know. He cannot possibly know—he hasn't even heard the sparrow's voice before.

Only I have—

What perfect eyes you have now; they are filled with worry. Could it be—ah, yes. The sparrow? Vaughn's thoughts hit the mark and it hurt more than Luka had thought it would. The eagle cursed himself. He cursed fate for allowing them to meet; both the sparrow and this disgusting scavenger.

Don't lose it, idiot. He can't hear your thoughts just yet, Victoria was quick to hold her Winged up as support. Though equally concerned about the sparrow, her pride allowed no compromise.

Not a single predator was to get ahead of the golden eagle.

Play him, she ordered.

Thinking.

There's no time to think, Luka—

Was he? Vaughn tilted his head satisfactorily at the response that he managed to yield. Luka had a nice voice too. I don't pay attention to the breeds of prey—they all look the same.

Vaughn was quick to reply.

Ah, yes. They are all prey after all—aren't they?

It's their Mark I'm after, Luka spun the tale effortlessly. And are we just going to stand here and talk?

Vaughn laughed out loud, softly—pleasantly.

Oh of course not. You have my apologies—I'd merely thought you had wished for a break; the way you froze at the cry. You looked as if you knew who it was; as if you would fly to that person in a beat of your heart.

Luka made his disgust clear. He was very much disturbed by how accurate the vulture seemed to be at interpreting his emotions just by looking at his body language.

It wasn't a comfortable feeling—being watched. Examined.

Then you are mistaken, the eagle sounded hostile even to himself. Victoria was both impressed and surprised.

Vaughn raised his hands as if to surrender; a rather dramatic attempt that only seemed to irk Luka even further. Yes, I shall admit that I am. But is it not natural for a human to make—

The vulture lunged, mid-sentence, at the unguarded eagle.

Making a sudden grab for his hands in effort to pin him down, Vaughn had kept up his act with such ease that no one, not even this predator, could tell what exactly went on in that cunning mind of his. Luka barely side-stepped the incoming impact and it didn't help that Vaughn's Avian had assisted with a swift spread of its wings acting as a black screen—blinding the eagle and his Avian for a mere second.

Unsheathing the dagger at his hip, Luka swung it sharply across the vulture's midriff; but the latter stepped backwards, dodging it just in time.

—mistakes? His eyes were laughing in mock amusement. I see that the headmistress was right about your abilities.

How? He just continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

You are not human, Luka found himself thinking, the narrowing of his eyes displaying utmost dislike and hostility towards his foe.

Ah! You wound me, Vaughn responded in false rue. I apologize for being...inhuman.

The predators stilled, each giving the other a forcefully mannered space between themselves; calculating, for a brief moment, the prospects that the other could bring. Vaughn wanted the Mark of the Joker. Luka, who has it, desired it all the same—but what he desired was more than that. He, too, wanted the owner of the Mark.

Why?

He knew not why.

Luka weighed the possibilities in a blink; considering the swift taste of victory that lay somewhere ahead—he could smell it already—at the finish, that came hand in hand with the possession of the Mark that he had now, and back-tracking to search for the cause of the cry.

There was an unsettling tremor in his chest. A sort of darting, gripping unrest that he had never felt before.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be worry, could it?

An eagle had no time to worry about some meagre prey.

Worry would imply concern and concern would suggest affection and affection—

Affection would only mean weakness.

Luka would go for the finish. He didn't care about what would happen to that sparrow—it was none of his concern at all.

Victoria was left stunned with her Winged's final decision. She rejected his request to take on her form and fly towards the finish.

She was greatly disappointed, and yet—painfully impressed. The golden eagle had chosen well. Luka was a perfect eagle. Yet—what was this? This awful, bitter...it wasn't regret, was it?

Why, that hawk bodes ill, Vaughn was looking at the fair gap amidst the canopies of trees that splayed above them. High up in altitude, a red tailed hawk soared across the skies and disappeared beyond view in mere seconds; just enough to catch Luka's attention as well.

The first thought that latched itself onto the eagle's heart was one that seemed too obvious even for his foe who stood before him.

Something must have happened, the vulture knew that this would be an easy push, and there was nothing that stopped him from taking the advantage. I wonder who's going to die next.

It was a statement that sounded very much like a question.

Death. Yes—it wasn't as if he had never heard of it before. It seemed so much like another unspoken rule of the game.

Along with the survival of the fittest, there would always be death.

Death, as a partner. A friend. Or perhaps, a foe.

What do they call it? Vaughn asked thoughtfully, to no one in particular. He brought a finger to his lips. Natural selection?

Luka thought he didn't care about what would happen to that sparrow. He really did. But that was before he actually considered the possibility of death.

The eagle stared, reading the vulture. Something. He must have done something to the girl—that canary. She wasn't dead; neither was she alive—so what did he do to her? He's got something up his sleeve. But what? Should he take the risk?

Questions, they haunted his mind and there were no answers that could dispel such ghosts.

That was when Luka decided that perhaps he'd do the regretting—a little later.

.

Is something the matter? I was sure it did not concern you in the least—ah. There he goes. Vaughn watched as Luke left the scene, not expecting the predator to have come to a decision so quickly. It had been a mere few seconds in reality, but he thought it must have took a few years off his lifespan, surely. The vulture was glad, nevertheless, because the eagle had took off westwards—

Towards a little sparrow.

______________________________

Slayne was sure he felt about pushing the stupid sparrow into the lake down below just for the sake of doing it because his fear of heights was really, really starting to get on his nerves. He tried, once, to bring their Links together but to no avail.

The snowy owl had expected this in the very least anyway. Jiro couldn't do that either...though it would have been nice to hear his thoughts once in a while.

Io was crouching on the ground, knees to his chin as he felt little sensation in his legs that were numb with fear. The fifteen-meter drop was just too much for someone like him, and minutes after having met Faustes—the darkness that manifested in his cage still would not leave.

Just when the Nocturne's mind wished to yell at the sparrow about the ticking time and setting sun, and the latter's heart slowed to a death-like surrender of defeat;

A friend decided that it was too early for anyone to abandon someone else, or themselves.

.

Luka swooped down by the lake, greeting the pair with a winning call that lit up Io's eyes. He saw—upon his descent—how they smiled in relief and his heart stilled with a single strong beat.

Victoria was delighted to see the sparrow. She couldn't have been any more eager to watch his eyes sparkle in admiration, again, at her beautiful wings as she and Luka landed beside him and the Nocturne in one body.

The eagle knew, straight away, what he would do. It wasn't that he had eavesdropped on the brief exchange between Slayne and Io—he didn't particularly care what the owl wanted to say to Io—Luka had inferred in an instance, by the fifteen-meter drop and the way his sparrow had curled up hugging his knees; that he had a problem with heights.

Well, not that he had already found out last night at the creek, but never mind that—Luka preferred to think that he hadn't noticed each and every single detail of the sparrow's amusing expressions.

He was human once again, in a mere blink, and it took a roll of Slayne's eyes and a casual pat on Io's head for them to settle into a temporary alliance.

It wasn't officially established, per se. But rather a silent agreement.

Slayne couldn't be bothered with a stupid sparrow;

Said stupid sparrow felt relieved to have a friend by his side;

And said friend who insisted that he was not a friend was satisfied with the situation all the same.

A strange breeze picked up—

Calming in an instance.

When Io turned to look up at his friend once again, he almost fell into the lake.

Luka had wings on his back.

Surely, the sparrow had seen him take on the form of his Avian; and of course he knew that the Winged could borrow the wings of their Avians because he'd seen his flight instructor, the swallow, do that but—

But, still.

An eagle's wings were far more magnificent than any other pair that he had seen.

A swallow's could never compare.

Slayne looked positively stunned that Luka was able to Borrow. Even he, a fourth year, could do no such thing. This was—perhaps—why the headmistress had so desired for the eagle to play in the games.

You're not going to last long in that, the Nocturne warned his fellow predator. The sun is going to set soon; it's not your time.

Luka glanced over with a subtle smirk, observing the envy in Slayne's eyes. I know.

And I don't care, the owl sighed. Please get on with it. If we fly, we can get to the finish before nightfall.

I know that, too. Luka replied simply.

Io wasn't really reacting to anything. Drawn towards those widespread wings of Victoria's that spanned almost twice of himself, he thought Luka looked so much like a dark angel—those fantasies that Pipa loved to read and rave about. His finger ran along the edges of a single feather on the eagle's right wing, and the latter took his hand.

It happened really quickly—the eagle pulled Io into his arms, holding the sparrow's head into his chest while the other arm held his waist in a tight grip.

Io didn't even have the chance to protest. Not a single yelp was made before he realized that his feet were not touching ground.

Don't look down, Luka mused, just in case the other could hear him. Io couldn't. He hung on to dear, cruel life, in which this case, appeared to be the eagle's strong back.

His heart stormed inside; a racket so loud that even Luka could feel it through their contact.

Victoria laughed, and she herself felt a strange tingling when the sparrow tightened his hold on Luka.

The eagle looked ahead; at Slayne who had taken on the form of his Avian to lead the two towards their destination.

He felt a little tired;

A little triumphant—at his imminent victory;

And strangely,

A little sad.

_______________________________

Defeat rose like a thorn, piercing through skin and flesh

Melting warm hopes and resolve

To a freezing shudder of empty death.

There, perching on the ledge above the exit, watching—

Waiting; was the vulture.

For that was what they did;

Watch—

And wait.

__________________________________

A/N: Ah! I'm so sorry for the late update ;_; *flips tables of homework and assignments* I cri.

Can't wait for the next chapter though, I'm excited myself o.o weird is me.

Have a pleasant day ahead and say hello to the birds! (Always say hello to them they be mad if you ignore them)

-Cuppiecake.