Anomaly ━━ Matt vs Chris Sturniolo¹

𝖝𝖑𝖎𝖎. The Tunnels of Harbor Bay

[ tw: violence, death ]

𝖝𝖑𝖎𝖎. The Tunnels of Harbor Bay

IT'S EASY to convince Jameson to stay behind. Even with his invulnerability, he's still a village crabber who's never gone farther than the salt marshes of his home. A rescue mission inside a walled city is no place for him, and he knows it. Weston is not so easily swayed. He agrees to stay on the jet only after Maeve reminds him that someone needs to keep an eye on Jameson.

The woods here are thinner, forcing the four of them to be on constant guard. In the daylight, Matt doesn't have to worry about flame, and keeps fire ready, each fingertip burning like the wick of a candle. Cassian is off the ground entirely, jumping himself from tree to tree. He searches the forest with a soldier's precision, his hawk-like gaze sweeping in every direction before he's satisfied. Maeve keeps her own senses open, feeling for any burst of electricity that might be a transport or low-flying airship.

She feels them before she sees them. It's small, the slightest pressure against her open mind. The tiny battery bleeds electricity, probably powering a watch or a radio.

"From the east," Maeve murmurs, pointing toward the approaching energy source.

Cyrus whips toward the direction, not bothering to crouch. But Maeve certainly does, dropping to a knee in the foliage, letting the colors of autumn camouflage her dark red shirt and brown hair. Matt is right beside her, flames close to his skin, controlled so that they don't set the forest on fire. His breathing is even, steady, practiced, as his eyes search through the trees.

Maeve extends a finger, pointing towards the battery. A single spark runs down her hand and disappears, calling out to the electricity drawing near.

"Cyrus, get down," Matt snaps, his voice almost lost among the rustling of the leaves.

Instead of obeying, she backs against a tree, melting into the shadows of the trunk. Sunlight through the leaves above dapples her skin, and her stillness makes her look like part of the forest. But she is not quiet. Her lips part, and a low birdcall echoes through the branches. The same one she used outside Coraunt, to communicate to Weston. A signal.

The Scarlet Guard.

"Cyrus," Maeve hisses through gritted teeth. "What's going on?"

But she isn't paying any attention to the lightning girl, her focus resting on the trees instead. Waiting. Listening. A moment later, someone hoots out a trilling reply, similar but not the same. When Cassian responds from the tree above them, adding his own call to the strange song, a bit of Maeve's fear lifts away. Cyrus could lead her into a trap, but Cassian wouldn't. She hopes.