Hunted|Haunted - Chapter 25 - Crash test

Fogdog healed what scratches they got in the bush and led them out of the town. On the edge of town, he waved and disappeared.

Toma kept staring at his hand, right where a scratch used to be.

— We have to go back.
— Are you serious? We literally just found our way out
— Fogdog knows something, we have to find him again
As much as Nex really didn’t want to, he decided to hear Toma out instead of just dragging him along towards the door.
— Why do you think that?
— I… Well… Only Neven and Nana heal scratches like that. No one else I know does it like that. Not auntie Lara, not kids from the town. I know I don’t know that many people, but that’s… It’s just so weird! And, well, he said dogmasks don’t want to be here, but he knows where the way out is, so why is he here then? And the only people who live in weird hidden places, do weird things because they “have to” and do magic like Nana are… order people.
— You think he’s from the order?
— I think he might be someone who survived the massacre. I mean, you saw his arm. Mum said that if you do magic wrong, you can break your arms.
— Speaking of the order, Neven's been awfully quiet.
— He ran away while we were talking to the raisin man. Tove went to catch him. Failing, I'm guessing.
…
— Here's to dog loyalty, for fuck's sake…
— Are-
— No, we’re not going to go save them, they’re already dead, they'll be fine! — After saying that, Nex grabbed Toma by the shoulders to reinforce his point and not let the kid bolt away in an unknown direction. Then mumbled under his breath. — Now that I think about it, why is everything dogs…

And fine they were. Sorta.

For a secluded place with a dude catching ghosts, you'd expect there to be more demons around. I mean, yeah, there's a huge ass temple in the background, but it's not like there's no such thing in Woodmur. If you've spent like half an hour near a savvi commune there, you can probably pick out the possessed better than a newly ordained exorcist. Yet, no sneaky bastards around here. To think about it, there weren't any savvi around here either. Yeah, that's probably why Tove feels so fucking weird around here. Well, that, and streets not making sense.

For starters, the houses didn't actually have straight walls. In fact, nothing seemingly rectangular actually was. Not bricks, not windows. Streets turned out to be slightly curved, which was pretty noticeable if you happened to be a body-less thing capable of floating in a perfectly straight line.
Now, the blue monk. He wasn't particularly fast, so catching up to him wasn't a problem. The problems began at his damn amulets. The same kind Miina wore to keep her at an arm's length, except much worse. Instead of just stopping her from approaching, the blue monk's amulets sent her no less than a mile away in a random direction. Tove even got to find out how bad her natural fear of heights was. Though at that height, it's probably unnatural to have no fear.

This condition made snatching Neven's cage from an "easy does it" into a "playing chess with frogs as pieces, with both frogs and the board having been generously oiled up, during an earthquake, while explaining taxes to a toddler. Drunk." After multiple attempts, she lost track of the correct cage altogether.

Eventually, the monk reached a section of the temple — the cage hall.
Hilthe, there must've been thousands of souls kept here. Rows upon rows of golden cages.

— Well, aren't you a persistent little spirit? — The monk wore a black monocle and looked her straight in the eye.
— What do you need them for?
— Oh, but every cathedral needs its stained-glass windows. Just look how the sun flickers off splintered glass.

Truth be told, it was a beautiful sight. As long as you didn't stop to think what it took to create.

— ... Yeah. Nah. Let my friend go. That should be the last cage you closed.
— Ugh, you lowly bare-cored iron, you wouldn't understand art if you were whipped by it!
— Try me, wanker!
— Oh, I will, I will, just know that I am blessed so that no undead or possessed hand can harm me. And if you do try, you've given me enough of a hint to know which soul I need to crush. Leave, and your little friend might make it to another day.

Not having a better option, she left.

Tove hated mind games. Throwing hands was a far better use of everyone's time.

Taking hostages, however, was a low move in Tove's codex of brawling honour. But Teurachealioke by blood ended up rather short, so when an enemy goes low, by Hilthbenqe, she will go lower, even if that means curb stomping the cunt all the way back to Hell.

Thus goes the plan.

Step 1: Removing the hand from the equation
No, of course she didn't plan to fight him with legs. That still counts as "undead", so it has a chance of not working.
There was, however, a certain something she saw from up in the sky — a wyvern nest.

Step 2: Hiking
Fun fact, heights are the only thing guaranteed to scare a savvi shitless. Yes, even Tove. Sure, she was used to being off the ground. As the shortest in the sibling bunch, she did get picked up a lot by anyone taller than her. Which is most people in her commune.
That did not make heights over 3 meters any more appealing.

Step 2: Chicken wrestling
Possessing a wyvern is a feat. You see, it's only as easy to possess something as easy it is to convince it you're the dominating force.
The wyvern was having none of that. Hell, it probably wouldn't even think of Tove as prey, had she been alive. Rather, something like a pest.

Step 3: Step step step
No being, at least of those Tove tried to possess so far, is completely immune to possession. After quite a bit of fighting, wyvern eventually was worn down enough to possess.

Step 4: Flap flap flap
The next step was figuring out how to fly. The next step was figuring out how to fly with your eyes open.

Step 5: party time
Having brought the wyvern to the cage hall, Tove set it free.

— Have you forgotten what I said?
— Yeah, yeah, no undead or possessed, blablabla, I'm not possessing anyone, and also wyverns don't have hands, get fucked, cageboy.

Upon realisation that there was an actual wild animal in an enclosed space, both the monk and the wyvern started to freak out.
Guard monks also didn't stay calm for long, as the commotion only made the wyvern freak out more.
While that was happening, Tove took to opening all cages in sight. Maybe it'll be easier to recognise him like that? Honestly, she didn't think that far, opening all the cages just seemed like the next logical thing to do.

Soul after soul, the process was reminiscent of chopping up garlic, except twice as boring and trice as tedious. Most souls would fade out of existence after a couple of moments. Others just floated around the room, confused.
One dropped into her palm, crushed. So, Tove poked it.

Another vision of the witch with fish scales almost made her drop the soul. Keep it together, hon, you're almost done.

She tore off a big patch from her pants and placed the soul into it. The souls with the least cracks were kinda wet to touch, so Tove spit onto shards. Don't ask. No, you know what? Ask. Ask why did it work. In a couple of seconds, the shards started fusing.
Next, she tied up the patch with some thread still left on it. With some poking, the thing looked pretty spherical. Stick it in a pocket and get out.

Tove decided to camp on a roof on the corner of the village, since it would be fairly easy to see the monks from here. Not that she could think of a good reason why she would need that. Trespasser instincts, probably.
Now, the soul… Ehh… Well, we can't say that it was damaged or something, but it certainly changed. It now had a shiny metallic coat, and the patch was reduced to a scrap.

Neven wouldn't wake up when she shook the soul, so she just set it on the floor and waited.
Who are we kidding? She got bored in like 5 minutes and was rolling the soul back and forth against her better judgment.
After a couple of minutes of that, she was now rolling a coyote from side to side, accompanied by the coyote making some sort of funny grunting-growling noise.
Eventually, the animal sneezed itself awake and turned into Neven. Only to mumble “5 more minutes” and try to lie down again.

— No, no, no, don't you dare! — She shook him.
— Mhmm… fine. — He barely managed to open one eye.
— You good?
— I… think so?.. It's quite nice here.
— Yeah, yeah, whatever, just check to be sure.

The bullet holes no longer went through the coat. Sure, he could still feel his wounds, and his coat was more bloody than green, but he was glad to have some protection back.
The crack on his hand now sprouted coyote fur. Other than that, the crack seemed healed.

— I think I do feel a little better than before. I'm not crumbling for one.
She answered with a high-pitched bark. Neven assumed that was savtktani for "happy".
— What happened?
— Soul-collecting maniac caught you, and I spent a whole day getting your ass out.

A huge reptile could be seen flying off from the temple.

— Is that how?
— I kinda-sorta-maybe possessed a wyvern to get your ass out.
— Wyverns don't use their wings to walk, and that animal has paws on its wings. That is a false wyvern.
— And what's all that, then?
— False wyverns are dragons. That is a dragon.
— The fire-breathing kind?
— The fire-breathing kind.
— Well, that explains the smoke, I guess.
— Are the rest safe?
— I left them with Cogs, but knowing them, they probably are in some trouble by now…— In hindsight, probably not the best idea with how easily Nex ignored him. Let's just hope Toma was tall enough to kick Nex in the ass if he did ignore Cogs. — Hey. What did you see that you didn't notice the maniac with like 50 birdcages?
— My brother. I noticed him in the crowd, and... I didn't see much after.
— Motherfucker's here?!
— I wouldn't have recognised him myself, if not for... Never mind, it's too complicated to explain.
— If no one dies from me not knowing that, you don't have to tell me. Honestly, with what I witnessed in your guts, I'd rather not know. Makes me wanna punch a whole lotta folks, and most of them are already dead, so that sucks. Okay, let's go find the bastard.
— Wait.
— Mh?
— Can I ask something of you?
— Spill it.
— Can we do what we did at the swamps? I think it would be better if I were a bit farther from "on the edge" for this, and that did help, however much I do not want to acknowledge it.
— Eh, sure. Any thoughts on why this helps?
...
— Hey, if we know why this helps, we might figure out something that's easier for you to live with. Like, the thinking part of you obviously hates this and all.
— I'm not sure, but I think I've merged with my familiar. Being carried around was one of the things she enjoyed. Only when I did it, though. She didn't like most people. Most people didn't like her either.
— Oh, where have I heard this!
—I know, I know. I... don't know how I didn't notice any of this before. To be honest, I can't quite draw the line where the coyote ends and I begin.
— Well, like me momma used to say, “it's hard to see the whole picture with your face stuck to it”.
— .. Is-
— My momma's alive, she just started saying “you're being very picturesque right now” instead. Anyway, did your familiar also hate being touched?
— She did. Would tear the daring to shreds.
— How did you get around that?
— I didn't mind the pain, so I'd just let her gnaw on my hand, until she got used to me not being a threat... I think something about you reminds the coyote of myself. Tove, I... Thank you. For persisting.
— Eh, not a big deal. Don't think of this as a debt, that kinda defeats the purpose.
— How can this not be a big deal?
— I don't feel like it is one.
— You. Literally. Risked yourself AND brought in a dragon.
— So?
— "So"?!
— ... Are you really surprised a lass who got run over by a train doesn't mind neither risk nor hugeass firebeasts?
...
— For the record. How did that happen?
— Well, it started with the permanent closure of, like, half of the train tracks-
— A little bit less for the record.
— That's actually relevant, but since you asked, blablabla, the overworked train driver didn't drop speed in time, because the lights weren't completely on, so it was hard to tell how far away the train post was. The train came in at full speed while we were trying to make it across.
— ... I'll be honest, I expected something plain reckless. I am sorry for that and for your misfortune.
— Lose the topic, dude. I stayed around to help a brother. As long as I'm able to do so, I'm happy with whatever, risky or not.
— … We're not even the same species.
— I consider you a brother, get fucked. You've got no choice in my opinions.

After a while spent scouring the land, at least one target was found.

— That guy?
— Yes.
— Damn. That's an unearthed mummy if I ever saw one. Did you smell his soul or something? He doesn't look any more like you than any other witch
— He didn't look much different when he ran away from the Order.
— Huh... Well, I did hear that you're likely to end up the same way you were as a kid, but that's fucking sad. Wait, that's our dumbasi over there.
—I'd say "how convenient", but I'm more inclined to say "oh no". — The two started to make their way towards the rest. — Wait a minute, you can smell souls?
— Not really, it's more like I feel like a smell is supposed to be here, but it's not. Say, you flew a broom a lot, right?
— Obviously.
— So, you know what different clouds mean, right?
— If you mean “that cloud shape is a death omen”, then no. If you mean “that cloud shape means there will be rain in some 10 hours”, then yes.
— What does a wall of dark green clouds mean?
— There's no way-

But oh, there was. A monolith of dark green storm clouds closed in, surrounding the village.

— I take my words back. That cloud shape is, in fact, a death omen.