. . .
"The animals who play with the most abandon are the predators."
—Brenda Cooper
. . .
Now, he understands why.
Proserpina had personally attacked them out of nowhere. They weren't even doing anything... yet. Buck hadn't remembered much to be honest.
It had been so random, so quick, and they were all caught completely off guard... but he sure as hell remembered the burning feeling of his left arm being hacked right off of him, the cool glint of blade against the fading light as he stared down at his missing limb in muted shock for a moment or two before the shock becomes terror.
He paralyzed far longer than he cared to admit.
Now, he chokes at the memory, fearfully clutching at his throat—the too-vivid memory of Jazz, the frozen look of terror on his face as his head goes flying from his shoulders haunting him—along with Nikki's eyes.
Dull, unseeing.
And his other hand just... gone.
They had panicked and before they even thought to defend themselves, just as quickly the goddess appeared, she faded just as the light meets their spot like the shadows she ruled over.
This, they learned the hard way, that the goddess Proserpina has a knack for going silent so suddenly, lulling them into a false sense of security, making them believe that the attack was a one-time thing and a warning at best... and before they knew it, they've been separated from each other.
Was that the plan all along?
He didn't doubt for one second that she can take them all. She already had the chance earlier, but to separate them like this... to give them a chance to run...
(To make them feel like they even had a chance...!)
It feels too much like a cat playing with its food.
Buck hisses under his breath as he feels the way his flesh still refuses to heal, refuses to mend when it should have been stitching itself back to good as new by now.
In fact, it feels like it was throbbing.
Burning.
Son of a–...! It was that sword wasn't it?!
Thanatos.
Her weapon is the god of death.
How the hell is he supposed to fight against that?!
Goddess of Shadows. Heir of the Underworld.
Keeper of Death...
Others wouldn't even dare mention her real name, let alone think of it, in fear of garnering her attention or outright summoning her. As it would make the goddess more than just a whispered rumor.
Because names have power.
Now, he understands perfectly well why the others had feared her so much. He'd finally gotten the chance to personally see for himself if their greatest enemy is truly deserving of such titles, let alone such terror.
Buck would never again joke about her name.
The woods were getting significantly darker with each step he took, as though the basic laws of nature had no jurisdiction where the goddess of shadows was concerned—because that is the truth, is it not?
He could barely discern the silhouette of the trees anymore, the darkness enveloping them so thick it was as if they had no outlines, as if everything was just a big blob of black, of nothingness that he happened to be smacked right in the middle of.
Shadows danced and moved out of the corner of his eye, making him turn and jump at every single thing that moved like he was nothing but a startled, baby rabbit.
...she had to be close.
Lurking. Somewhere nearby–!
And then, right as Buck took a step into what he thinks was an open area, two wolf-like creatures suddenly jumped out at him, clearly aiming for his legs.
He managed to side-step the first one, barely managing to avoid its blade-like claws while the other managed to hung on his calf and he bit back a curse in pain as he feels its teeth burying itself right on to his flesh.
Stumbling, Buck tried his best to keep his balance steady (he can't fall now!) as he caught the first wolf by the back of its neck before it could pounce on him again, throwing it a good distance away, then proceeded to deliver a kick to the other that was still gnawing on his leg only for it to be sent crashing straight to its partner.
By some good stroke of luck, the first wolf had slammed right into what seemed to be a tree branch behind it, one that was sharp enough to impale it because of the impact.
Its partner, upon realizing how the other had stilled, suddenly stopped and raised its head to the skies before letting out a long, loud howl as if in pain... as if it was mourning before they melted as one into the shadows.
"HA! TAKE THAT!" Buck cheered.
He wished someone was here to see him beat these mongrels all by himself. That'll show them that he's definitely not someone to be messed with!
But as if to mock him, a flock of dark birds suddenly screeched to life somewhere in the distance, a seemingly black cloud taking an instant, violent flight into the darkening sky as though something... someone had startled them.
By now, darkness had descended, completely leaving the entire area in true darkness. Buck had looked up in shock at the sky.
But the next thing he knows, he was falling.
His knees suddenly slammed straight into the ground, and something was breaking his ribs, something sharp and painful struck to his heart and everything was burning, white-hot, painful, blurry.
Meanwhile, a few paces behind him, something slowly rises to its full height, the same way night devours day, the same way the sun sets on the horizon for the moon to rise before it moves past and through the trees, disappearing from view just as quickly it manifested itself.
Oblivious, Buck chokes on air, the gaping wound on his chest severe but healing at a snail's pace as he heaves on air and his own blood when the blade returns to the shadows, desperate for chances of survival.
What must have been seconds felts like hours to him when Buck finally gathered the strength to pry open his eyes. It was dark, so dark that for a terrifying moment, he thought he hadn't actually been able to open his eyes at all.
And the pain... oh, God...
There was nothing like it.
Still, even as his face screwed and clenched in pain that he wanted nothing more but to pass out there and then, he was too afraid to close his eyes, too worried that if they closed they would stay closed forever.
Through his still-swimming vision, he located the other wolf just a few feet away but for some scary reason, it seems like it was coming rapidly at him, jaws opening as if ready to tear through skin and bones for what he had done to the other.
Buck tried to regain his footing once more, rearing back his remaining arm, his first ready to smack the animal, even wrestle with one hand against something that was supposedly incorporeal and harmless—
"Fetch."
