literature

TCOBOW: CH7: Don't Cry

Deviation Actions

curls101's avatar
By
Published:
557 Views

Literature Text

Chapter 7: Don’t Cry.


Pan hadn’t kept track of the failing light as it died on the other side of the forest. This side of the woods was so different from the dense thicket of vines and thorns around InTheLittleCorp. Here, there were no shrubs, just a thick layer of pine needles underfoot that killed all life that dared to grow. The trees towered upwards with thin trunks and bark like a hedgehog’s back, each one an equal distance apart in neat rows. A thick fog had set in, creeping up from the very earth.

Pan clung to her gun tightly with her good hand, her finger hanging by the trigger. The silence was piercing, as if someone had dampened every sound until it was too quiet to hear. The cold only made it worse, her hands trembling in part from fear. She wondered where Lalna was, if Martyn was still alive, if Xephos got his revenge after all. Then the whistle came and she watched the projections silently, wondering how close she was to the two killers currently.

When the projection left, the darkness truly arrived. The fog made it so she couldn’t see what she was standing on or where she was going. Every step she took she arrived at another set of tree crossroads. Pan couldn’t stand the silence. She couldn’t stand the chill that travelled down her spine as she waited to see anyone, unsure if they would be hostile or friendly. Her rapidly beating heart panicked and resorted to a song. A lullaby she’d sung many times over. A song for a good friend,
 “Don’t…” her voice came out dry, strangled and terrified. Her arm ached. She felt like curling up into a ball and sobbing until Lalna found her in this forest that never seemed to end.  She coughed, shook the tears away and tried again, 
 “Don’t cry, Mercy. There’s too much pain to come.”

The rustles of pine needles were her only warning. She spun on her heels, her eyes blurred with tears until she couldn’t see. She was faced with a distant figure, little more than a silhouette, consisting of an impressive moustache and an orange square. She, rather unwisely, shot first. The recoil nearly broke her wrist, this was a weapon designed for someone with two hands after all, and the bullet slammed into the tree next to the figure’s head with an explosion of sound. There was a half-second of shock. She never missed. She hadn’t missed since she first held a gun when she was just a little girl. Her eyes opened wide and she saw a red laser fly towards her from the gloom.

There was nothing she could do.

BOOM.

It was her cannon, it had to be, but she wasn’t dead. Not yet. The figure fled into the forest, likely grinning. She pressed her hand to her stomach and it came away slick with blood. Was it her cannon? Or had someone happened to die at the same time as her?
 “It was your cannon, Pan. I just want him to find you. I want to see the look in his eyes. I want him to know he failed,” spoke the voice from the haze of pain. She was unsure if she could hear the words physically or if they were spoken directly into her brain, like a robot having instructions imputed. She lay, staring up at the dome above and wondered when she had actually fallen. She could no longer feel her legs. Pressing her hand into the wound, blood seeping through her fingers, she awaited death.


Lalna had never run as fast as he did then. The path just seemed clear to him, as if someone or something had created a pathway for him to follow. It wanted him to find her. When he spotted her, miles away but clear in the rows of trees, he understood why. She was lying there, unmoving.
 “Pan!” he yelled, scrambling across the pines. When he reached her, he gathered her up and rested her head on his knees. He looked from her weary eyes to the hole in her stomach. Her dry lips formed a broken smile.
“You found me.” she muttered, her voice barely above a strangled whisper. He attempted to smile,
“Of course I did.” he replied. He noticed her legs had begun to dissolve ever so slowly into pixels. He didn't have much time. He examined the wound carefully, listening to her pained hisses and yelps.
“Duncan, my cannon has already sounded. I'm already dead.” she protested, a small line of blood falling from her lips. He tenderly wiped the trail away with his thumb, leaving a red smudge. She tried to smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. He held onto her hand, determined if he held on tight enough, she couldn't leave. She couldn't go. He'd tried so hard to find her. She couldn't leave him here. He couldn't do this alone again.


"I tried. I promised you that…" he protested, turning his head away, too ashamed to meet the eyes of the woman he had fought so hard to protect. He felt a soft hand against his cheek as it wiped away tears he didn't know he was shedding. It was surprised to find the skin as cold as a ghost.
"Shh, it's ok. I was never going to get very far." she let out a humourless and pained chuckled, " It's ironic that the thing I'm worst at, when it comes down to it, is killing others." He noticed the pixels had consumed up to her waist, her arm only intact because he was holding onto it, he didn't have long.
"You're a peace keeper, Pan, you were never meant to kill like this." he tried to smile. He couldn't keep crying. He needed to be strong for her now. He felt the grip on his hand loosen, as if she wanted to go now, but he just couldn't let her leave. There was too much to say.
"If only you knew…" she stopped, breaking into an agonised coughing fit, blood crusting on her lips, "If only… God, Dun, it hurts. It really, really hurts!" she whined and his heart heaved,
"It's ok.." he muttered, putting her hand on the wound and leaning over, pressing his lips to her forehead, "You can go now, Pan. I'll see you again soon, Ok?" Her dry lips smiled, a final show of affection, before her eyes rolled back in her head. Her gently ran his hand over her eyes, closing them and getting to his feet slowly, watching her body dissolve. At least she didn't have to see this hell any longer. Duncan spotted the face in the sky, but he didn't feel the despair like he should. Sjin would die, by his hand or Rythians, he didn't care. His heart felt numb, like it didn't exist any more. Slowly, with the stride of a broken man, he trudged towards his castle in the rising sunlight.

Note: So, this chapter is really short, sorry! This scene inspired this entire fic, but it made it no easier to write! I hope your feels are… almost alive. I'm going to go cry in a corner now…
I have nothing to say about this chapter other than: I'm sorry it's short and shit.
Cover art by :iconsilverpaw15:
-C101
© 2013 - 2024 curls101
Comments18
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
ShadowShinigamiWolf's avatar
NO PAN! D: Feels.... Now two people are out wanting Sjin's blood... Another great chapter! Even though you crushed my feels XD