Friends Down Low (ONC2022)

Chapter 12 - My Devious Inclusion

"We'll see."

This was the last thing she said. She wheezed out one more breath and took no more. Her hand went slack. I folded her arms across her chest and plopped to a seat on the ground next to her.

I was alone.

Sil's blood coated my hands, but so far, I'd felt nothing. A quick lick of a finger could change that. It may be a preferable way to die, rather than face the Saint, and I'd be following my fallen defenders.

My friends.

Before I could summon the courage, the Saint's voice broke through the silence, calling my name. I looked back to Sil. Her blood still oozed from the wounds but slowed as the heart no longer pumped it. I held up my crimson-covered hands.

So much blood.

"Sorry, Sil. I can't run. I'm going to go chat with the Saint."

Once again, I stumbled through the dark woods. The moon shone bright but not enough light filtered through the treetops to make much of a difference.

The Saint called my name repeatedly. It came from my left. Then my right. North. South. East. West. Once it even sounded out from above me. But it was always just her voice, drifting on the wind. She said my name in a sing-song manner like a one-word nursery rhyme.

"Fin."

"Na."

"Ginn."

That's how it sounded.

It was maddening.

Eventually, I resolved not to follow it. I stopped in a small clearing, where enough moonlight granted me some sight. I'd wait and at least see her coming. Maybe she'd forget I was here, I thought with a dark smirk.

She didn't.

"Hello, Finnigan."

The Saint's voice emanated from the air itself. I turned a slow circle, searching the dark trees but saw nothing.

"What a night. Don't you agree?"

"I personally think it sucked," I replied.

The sound of her laughter sprinkled around me like the twinkling of bells. Too pretty for what she was. "I thought it was glorious."

"Why don't you show yourself? Let's get this over with. I'm freaking exhausted and not moving another step."

"You're also out of allies."

"That too." That comment stung, but I chewed back verbally lashing out.

"Here I come, Finnigan."

She appeared, or rather, her face did. It emerged from the shadows, like a corpse floating to the surface of dark waters. Her head hung there, seemingly bodiless, Cheshire-cat style, floating back and forth, a pale balloon. I managed my fear, but only because I was too damn tired to scream.

A pale-skinned leg kicked from the darkness, like a dancer dramatically emerging from a stage curtain. Then another. She dropped from the air itself and stood before me.

"Look at you. Blood all over your face. You look like a warrior born."

I snorted. "Most of the blood is mine from getting repeatedly pummeled in the soft parts of my head by your followers, so I'd slow down with the warrior label."