He had no food left, so he contented himself by drinking water for the morning. He carried one of the jugs with him as he made his way out of his hideout and toward the forest where he’d left his traps set up.
One of Malcolm’s sneakers had been developing a hole for the past several weeks. He caught his foot wrong against a rock, and another stitch gave out, finally enlarging the gap enough to make walking awkward. He swore under his breath and hoped he could find some tape or a needle and thread to make the necessary repairs.
His traps had been destroyed. It only took him a single glance at them to know that it had been a malicious act, rather than random chance, or from an animal trying to escape. The twine had been stolen from all of them, and one of the logs had been stepped on and caved in.
Malcolm tried to keep his anger in check as he surveyed the damage. It meant that he wouldn’t have a regular source of food unless he could actively hunt. The main benefit to having the traps was that they’d been able to catch food even when Malcolm was tired and exhausted. Without them, he’d be fighting a losing battle.
He filled his jug with water from the river and drank until it was hard for him to tell if the pain in his stomach was from hunger or being overfilled with liquid. Then, he started off toward Vanderbrook, hoping that he’d stumble upon fortune in the trading square.
Greg was standing at his trading stall, setting out a variety of weapons and equipment for display. Malcolm caught his eye as he walked over, hoping that the man might have some basic work for him. Greg frowned when he saw him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Bennett’s gang has been coming through all morning, and they aren’t fans of yours.”
Malcolm winced.
“I’ll have to take my chances. Speaking of which, is anyone looking for an extra hand for today?”
Greg slowly shook his head, sharing Malcolm’s disappointment.
“Sorry, man,” said Greg. “I doubt anyone here would want to risk inviting your trouble onto themselves.”
Malcolm thanked him for the heads up and started back through the crowd. He saw where Greg was coming from, and couldn’t fault him for it.
How long has trouble followed me for? It’s like my shadow, always there behind me, in some capacity or another.
A few men were sitting outside a building, passing a liquor bottle around between them. Malcolm overheard some of their conversation as he passed by.
“…saw her, too. A shadow spryte. Too wild for us to stick around to watch, though. Even though she was naked.”
Malcolm froze in mid-step. He approached the men tactlessly, dropping to a crouch next to where they were seated.
“Say that again,” he said. “The part about the shadow spryte.”
The man glared at him and opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, Malcolm reached out and snatched the bottle out of his hand. He held it off to the side, over the concrete, shaking it slightly in loose fingers.
“If you gents want to keep enjoying yourself today,” said Malcolm, “I suggest you give me the full story of what you were just talking about.”
He used his tone of voice to make it clear that he’d follow through with his threat, if he had to. One of the men told him everything he knew, which wasn’t much. He and a buddy had seen a shadow spryte in the outskirts of town, but it had taken off in a sphere of dark energy soon after. The man didn’t know in which direction.
Rose. Did you finally come back? Have you remembered?
Malcolm gave the men back their bottle. He resolved to restart his search, regardless of whether he was hungry, and whether he had a weapon to protect himself. He’d made it most of the way back toward his hideout when someone shouted out behind him.
“Wind Runner!” called Bennett. “Where are you going in such a hurry? We haven’t had our chat yet today.”
Malcolm slowed to a stop, knowing that it would only waste energy to run. He turned around and saw Bennett walking toward him slowly, carrying the pistol he’d stolen from him earlier in the week. He was flanked by his two thugs, and they all looked inordinately pleased to see him.
“Bennett,” said Malcolm. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for you today.”
He felt a cold, confident certainty taking hold in his chest. He’d let himself get distracted for too long. It wasn’t about his survival or his safety. His life had a focus, and hearing the rumor about Rose had revitalized his will. Nothing would stop him from finding her.
“You’d talk to me like that?” sneered Bennett. “I thought we were friends! Wind Runner, don’t tell me you’ve lost your manners along with your powers.”
He strode closer, an arrogant bully drunk on his own meager influence. Malcolm didn’t flinch back from him. He held Bennett’s gaze steadily.
“What do you have on you?” asked Bennett. “If you’re in a rush, just give me what you have and we’ll call it square. Sound good?”
“Sound’s great.” Malcolm reached a hand into his pocket, digging into it with exaggerated motions. “Just… one thing though.”
He gestured for Bennett to come closer, and had to keep himself from grinning as the gang leader stepped within Malcolm’s range. He no longer had his wind manipulation, but he was still fast, and his first kick swept Bennet’s legs out from under him before he had time to react.
The two thugs let out shouts of surprise. Malcolm was already moving, throwing himself into the air and onto Bennett before he could get back to up on a knee. He got one of his hands over the gun, angling it away from him, and then head-butted Bennett in the face with all the energy he had.
Bennett screamed, and then let out a wet cough, spraying blood onto Malcolm’s face and shirt. He managed to strip the gun free from Bennett’s hand. The safety was off, and he whirled to fire at the nearest thug. Nothing happened when he pulled the trigger.
No bullets. Bennett already used up the ones in it in the time since he got it. I should have guessed.
One of the thugs kicked Malcolm hard in the chest, knocking him back. The other carried a baseball bat and was pulling it back to swing a killing blow into Malcolm’s skull when he let out a tiny gasp.
Malcolm glanced down at Bennett, or rather, at the shield bubble that now encased him. His entire body was trapped in a multicolored, lightly shimmering egg of confinement. When Malcolm looked back toward the other thugs, similar bubble shields had already encapsulated them. He still held the gun in his hand, and kept his finger on the trigger as he slowly stood up.
Shield Maiden, one of the few benign sprytes remaining in the area, stood a dozen paces behind him. She was attractive in an alien way, her skin a mixture of swirling pink, purple, and blue, and her hair the color of bubblegum. She met Malcolm’s gaze and crossed her arms.
“You still have a habit of getting yourself into trouble, I see,” she said.
Malcolm smiled, though his mind raced ahead, trying to work out why she was there and what she wanted.
She must have heard the rumor about Rose. That’s the only reason she’d show herself now.
“What can I say?” said Malcolm. “Trouble has a way of finding me. Speaking of which… Something tells me that you aren’t just passing through town.”
Shield Maiden slowly shook her head.
“I take it you’ve also heard,” she said. “Rose has returned to the area. I would like to take the opportunity to try to bring her back to us.”
“Us, as in… you and Fantasy?” asked Malcolm. “Or have you recruited more monsters to your little clique since I’ve last seen you?”
For a moment, it seemed as though she wouldn’t answer the question.
“No,” she said, finally. “We haven’t. It’s been a little too dangerous for us to operate openly in recent times.”