Chapter 4: Pain

I could easily give a lengthy description of the battle that took place, but I'm not going to from fear of boring everyone, including myself. No one wants to see a football match with a score of fifty-four to nil. No one wants to see a race in which all but one horse actually manages to break out of the gates. And equally, no one really wants to hear about a battle in which one half of the participants may as well have cut out the middle man and sliced off their own heads when they woke up that morning.

So the battle has ended. It was a fearsome fight, or at least it was for one side.

And way, way at the back, where the sand turned into sludgy mud as it neared Hercart, far away from the main damage point but still close enough to feel the shockwaves, was Cooper. In blunt terms, he was not feeling very well.

Pain. Pain is good. Focus on the pain. If you can still feel pain then you must not be dead yet.

Whenever the pain threateningly began to wane he bit his lip to create a fresh amount.

His eyes were closed, because things are much easier to ignore if you can't see them. But unfortunately, other senses can not be blocked out so easily. The mud felt warm against the back of his head. There was a ringing in his ears. There was an unpleasant tinny taste in his mouth. His whole body ached from head to toe, and the smell… Oh, the smell…

Okay. That's all very good. Now get up.

But lying here feels so easy…

There was an awful sensation that under no circumstances should a man ever have to meet. He felt as a long, bony digit reached and nipped his cheek, in the manner of one who might be about to tear chicken flesh off a bone.

Cooper squirmed, batting the hand away quickly.

"Okay, okay!"

He opened his eyes at last to see a strange figure stood over him, and it took him a few seconds for it to match up with what was stored in his memory bank. The thin yet dramatic frame, the pale skin, the inhuman skull-like face...

"Well, you can't really blame me," said the Vulkire. "If you're not dead then you shouldn't advertise so."

Under normal circumstances Cooper may have given a sarcastic remark, as he was wont, but now it just seemed like too much effort. A dazed "bwuh…?" was the best he could give at that moment.

The creature shrugged, and leapt into the air, its arms bursting into feathers as it left.

Now there's incentive. Get up or get eaten.

Although between the two choices the answer should have been obvious, the decision still took a great mental struggle. Eventually he managed to bring himself to push away the half of a body that was lying on his torso (determinedly not thinking of the whereabouts of the other half), and with immense effort, he sat up.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

Death was everywhere, as long as you didn't count the many Vulkires taking advantage of the fact, but their species looked like the very reaper himself. They flocked over bodies, many of them belonging to men who had been laughing at his lack of authority hours ago. Later he might feel smarmy about this, but at the minute he didn't feel like he would ever feel an emotion like smarminess again. It was for other people.

He ran a hand against the back of his head from which there was a distinct pain, his fingers meeting hair that was crusted with mud, blood and general grime. He then placed his hand over his mouth, and then both slowly slid over his entire face.

Being a pessimist he had known that this was going to happen. Deomans outmatched humans through astonishing physical strength and lack of morality to hold them back. It was like deciding it was time for the tank of goldfish to meet their friendly neighbours the Piranha. A massacre was the only outcome possible.

…But maybe not all of him had thought that. If he had then he wouldn't have bothered getting up that day. There must have been some part of his mind, some tiny, insignificant part, that had thought maybe it'd all perhaps on an off chance possibly work out all right...

Don't look at me.

And on top of matters one certain little unnamed thing was really beginning to piss him off.

He heard a tiny sound. So quiet it was on the very edge of hearing, but fortunately it didn't feel like this one was coming from the confines of his own head. Whatever it was, it sounded to be a pained note of distress. This sparked something.

"Jenna…" he murmured quietly into his hands. He looked up. "Jenna?"

He rose to his feet, a little unsteadily, but still with more energy than he would have earlier been prepared to bet he had. First gently testing whether his legs were still prepared to sustain his weight, he resolutely set off.

A few Vulkires looked up at this lone upright figure, wading through the masses, but they didn't pay him much heed. It wasn't that they particularly disliked humans or anything like that. They were known to occasionally get on quite well with the other species, but many people were often put off by their peculiar eating habits. This general lack of friendliness didn't really bother them all too much. Humans were only of real interest to them when they weren't breathing.

Cooper lowered himself down next to a horse; dead, hopefully, due to the size of the hole in it. This was the source of the sound. Maybe…

With a heave, he pushed it aside. It rolled over limply onto its back.

A white wolf was lying underneath, pining gently. It's pure coat was stained red.

"Perry," he said, blankly. He couldn't really bring himself to say anything else. This was surreal. This couldn't be happening.

But really he knew that his hopes had been even less likely of taking place. He felt quite stupid for actually taking them seriously for a single fleeting moment.

The wolf instinctively began to lick his bloody fingers.

"Perry," he repeated with more force in his tone this time, grabbing the wolf's snout firmly. "What the hell happened? Why are we all the way back here? And... Where's Jenna?"

His dazed blue eyes shining up at him did nothing to improve Cooper's mood. "Don't black out. Listen to me." He leaned in closer, his hand tight. "Hey Perry. Perry! How are we still alive?!"

If he was waiting for answers then wait he would have to, for Perry was in no condition to give them. Or shape, for that matter.

With an emotion fast approaching anger Cooper pushed him back down into the mud and leapt up again. He began to look around at every person in the surrounding area, but each face was as indistinguishable as the last.

There's no point in searching, you know.

"Shut up."

How can I shut up? I'm in your mind, and the only way to have your mind shut up is to stop it…

"You'll find a way. Just shut up."

"Hey," someone said behind him. He looked back to see one of the feeding Vulkires had landed there. Cooper dearly hoped his eyes said strongly enough that he didn't want a conversation right now. "I, er, just…"

He turned around and faced the creature solemnly. "What do you want," he muttered.

"Erm… My name's Jerry… Hi… And-"

"What do you want."

"You're Bart Cooper, right?" The Vulkire finally continued. "You… you led this thing, right?"

"If you're here on behalf of your friends to thank me for the meal, I'm not in the mood," he said. And he nearly added 'and that's general to you', but at the minute it didn't seem too much of a title to be proud of.

"No no, I just wanted to say… Well, we were watching you and…"

"Spying? Having some nice entertainment? Munching on a few bite-sized chunks of corpse while enjoying the show?"

"Not when you put it that way," the Vulkire mumbled. "It's just that I saw everything that happened and... well...I think this is yours."

From behind his back, perhaps to serve dramatic impact, he produced a sword. It was a very plain blade, but its size made up for its lack of decoration. It was an item with a single purpose.

Cooper reached out and slowly gripped the handle, causing the recently announced Jerry to hop back a pace like a sparrow as soon as this on-the-edge man was armed.

"Um… I'm sorry…" Jerry said as he felt was required of him, before quickly ascending

Cooper stared at the sword as the Vulkire left, in a manner that an observer may very wrongly perceive as being thoughtful.

He sighed.

So that was it. This was how it went, was it? Nothing left to comfort him but a few budgies and a notched blade. But that didn't explain why, of all people, was he still alive? And Perry, too?

Well, I call that ungrateful. After all, what did you really expect? To find her still alive as well, against all odds? Still perhaps clutching that sword in her inexpert female hand? In all honesty, between her and the sword, I think that you were considerably lucky.

"Shut up, shut up," he groaned, the blade falling to the floor as his hands rose up to clutch his head. He collapsed onto his knees, his fingers wringing through his hair. It would be an odd sight for anyone interested enough to watch.

"It's not fair," he said quietly to himself. "It's not fair."

But of course, life doesn't tend to be.