Rune #16

Sheesh, I have literally posted three stories in one day! How crazy is that! For all who are still here, I give you, the next of Rune's adventures! Shoutout to Antman (Katelyn) for being so awesome and sticking by to read this series!

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Rune fell onto his backside, in shock. His face was blank, his breath tiny plumes. Goosebumps were raised on his bare arms. After only a few seconds, he trembled with cold. Tiny white flakes drifted from the sky. Rune’s ears twitched as they collected the white flakes.

He didn’t move.

Only breathed, his mind completely empty.

He had no thoughts.

Slowly, he sunk onto his back, cold seeping through his thin shirt. His deep purple eyes closed and his breath rushed out.

Only one word now loomed through his mind.

Why?

Rune seemed to collapse further, as if he could collapse while already being down so low.

Far up and far away, Artemis and Colden watched Rune as he gave up. In their minds, two words.

Get up.

Get up.

They were rooting for him. They needed him to come to his senses, to fight. To see a reason to rise.

Rune lay still among the tall, frozen grass. He thought of everyone who was out to get him, to have him locked up or killed.

Admiral Gallas wanted him mind controlled, unaware of his own body, acting out someone else’s will.

Artemis wanted him to overthrow his own people, thinking only for humans.

All other humans hated him.

Sarsh hated him now, too.

What was the point in fighting, in living, if there was no one to love, and no one to love him?

But then, Rune remembered something else.

His siblings. Tycho’s wide smile and loving character, Sharn’s quiet and thoughtful nature, Amarillius’s motherly, caring heart.

They loved him, yet he had given them no love.

They stayed with him, though he was never there for them.

And if he gave up, they would have no one to love them back.

Rune rose, a light dusting of snow falling off his chilled body.

Far away, Artemis and Colden breathed a sigh of relief. “Do we go get him?” Colden asked. Artemis shook his head.

“He is not ready. Just wait.”

“How will we know when to get him? There is no way for him to talk to us.”

“We will know, I assure you. If he is as smart as he seems, he will know what to do.”

Rune stood among the falling flakes, trembling with cold. Quickly, he morphed into a vayne. The creature’s fur would keep him warm until he found a solution. He bounded through the tall grass, a blue streak among brown and white.

He raced toward the woods as an idea formed in his mind. As he ran, he morphed back to himself and came to a stop at the base of a tree. It was small, but would serve his purpose. Rune’s arm transformed into the blade and seconds later, the ringing of metal on wood echoed through the silence.

The sarsh sweated freely as he worked; it chilled him to the bone and the shivering caused him to slip. Beside the gunshot wound, there was now a neat slice down his leg where he had accidentally cut himself while chopping a tree, hot silver blood welled from it, soaking his pant leg. His body felt frozen and stiff, but he kept moving.

One hour later, Rune was trembling so violently, his whole body ached. His skin was soaked with frozen sweat, his clothing dirty. But in front of him, a massive pile of freshly cut wood was stacked in a pyramid. The wood was rich with oil and would burn well. Exhausted and almost falling over, Rune held his cybernetic arm to the wood, the single blue flame licked against it. In seconds, it caught and spread, burning bright and hot. Rune’s shivering lessened as the warmth blasted upwards and outwards, the air wavering with it.

The sun disappeared below the trees, as the fire burned on, Rune kept moving, adding more wood and hoping Artemis would see somehow and come back. Colden had said they were watching, so they had to see the massive fire.

They didn’t, or if they did, they didn’t come.

But something else did.