𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 ༄

eleven

Tommy was lost. Again.

It wasn't his fucking fault that every tree looked the same and the forest floor was covered in weeds leaving it impossible to find his footprints. It didn't help that his mind was on a constant loop of flying, and wings, and sky. It felt like he had his own little track of thoughts running through his head, engineered by the bird part of him. Tommy's excitement from learning to fly was simply just uncontainable.

And distracting.

He hadn't wanted to let Techno know how flying had affected him, how it had made something spark up inside of him, how it seemed to literally flip his world upside down. So he lied and said he wanted to take a walk in the field. Techno didn't seem to care what Tommy did, just grunted in agreement and stalked off to the house. Once out of sight, Tommy darted to the side and snuck around to the woods. He knew Wilbur said that the woods weren't for humans, even part humans, but Tommy was no pussy. He just wanted to explore a bit and clear his head, as it currently felt like a million feathers had been released in his brain.

So there he was, stomping through the forest, picking his way around thorny bushes and ducking under overgrown vines, completely and utterly lost. Tommy hadn't meant to walk that far, but his thoughts ran wild and before he knew it the sun was setting, casting elongated shadows through the spiny trees. The woods got darker, and Tommy's heart rate got faster.

He wasn't too worried. He knew how to survive, he had been doing it his whole life. But seeing those gorgons, possibly Medusa herself, had awoken a newfound fear in Tommy. His instincts, both human and bird, told him to run. All of the time. His feet and hands itched to leap into motion constantly and he hated it. Why couldn't he have been a hybrid monster that's instincts were to fight, not flee. Running was for pussies, even if Tommy was fast.

He glanced up, cracking his neck in the process. His eyes locked on the darkening sky, pupils reflecting the slowly appearing stars. A smile crept over his face, as he remembered the feeling of wind in his wings and fresh air in his lungs. He missed it. It had been less than an hour and he missed flying. But it's where he belonged. Tales of Icarus didn't apply to him, because Tommy's place was in the sky, red and gold wings touching the clouds.

Entranced by the idea of flying again, Tommy didn't notice shadows creeping up around him, darkening the place where he stood. He didn't notice the stench of death and wet fur wafting around him. Tommy stood blissfully unaware of the monster towering over him, huffing out acid-like air.

Until he did. The hair on the back of his neck rose up in fear as Tommy finally noticed that he was very much not alone. He took in a silent breath, avoiding making noise at all costs. Carefully, Tommy turned around, his feet softly falling on dead leaves.

His dark blue eyes widened. Shit.

Briefly, another random mythology fact popped into his head as he stared up at the half-bull, half-man. The Minotaur was known for devouring men that braved the labyrinth built by Daedalus. The irony of Tommy face-to-face with it now while lost in these creepy fucking woods would have made him laugh if his heart wasn't frozen in his chest.

He had lied, by the way, earlier when Wilbur proposed a plan of attack, and Techno told Tommy he wasn't allowed to fight. Tommy had protested, saying he could fight, because it seemed like the right thing to say. It wasn't. Tommy was a shit fighter. His years of bruises accumulated on his body at the foster home could attest to that.

Tommy briefly wondered if he could persuade the Minotaur to leave him alone.

The Minotaur let loose a deafening roar, sending hot gas directly into his face.