Epilogue

Epilogue 3.08

---Em---

     Melody pulls me aside when we reach the edge of the woods. Crawford and Ace haven't done that great a job of retracing their steps, and from the looks of things, it could be a while before they pick up the trail of their avian assailant. I guess it couldn't hurt to take a little breather.

     "What's up?" I ask, the awkwardness in my voice making it sound like I was inquiring about the actual direction.

     The fog has dissolved into a thin mist, the early morning sunlight shimmering amongst the droplets. The cool moisture is soothing against my skin and takes my mind off of the kink in my neck—a souvenir of yet another sleepless night.

     She hesitates for a moment before saying, "I'd tell you this is a bad idea, but that's not going to change your mind, is it?"

     "I don't know," I half-stutter. "I haven't known you for that long, but I get the feeling you can be very... persuasive."

     "We're on the wrong path."

     "Wrong path, huh?" I grin. Now where have I heard that before? "Did your Q-blip tell you that?"

     She shakes her head. "Not that kind of path. This is more of a consequency sort of deal."

     "Consequency?"

     Her face flushes red. "It's a word... Well, it's word-ish."

     I still can't get a read on her. I mean, here I thought she was just playing the good Samaritan. Is that her angle? Does she think she can save us by convincing us not to carry out what could very well be a suicide mission?

     "If you're worried about us, don't be. Even when the odds are against us. After all, odds can be... well, odd."

     "Luck doesn't grow on trees," she mutters.

     "Actually, in the last world we visited—"

     "My point being—"

     "You don't have to risk your life with the rest of us. You've got that cozy little crevice to go back to."

     Melody trembles ever so slightly, and she balls her hands into fists. "I don't like being interrupted."

     "You started it."

     She's got some ulterior motive, that's for sure. And I don't think Comma's phoro-whatever is what she's after. At least, it's not that simple. Call it a hunch.

     "Found it!" Crawford shouts. I guess that's our cue. Melody gives me an indecipherable look, and then we rejoin the rest of the group and set out across the plains.

     You'd think such a large group travelling out in the open during the daytime would be awfully conspicuous, and you'd be right to think so. But at least this way, nothing'll be able to sneak up on us. Both Melody and Eloise attested to the fact that the strixes prefer to hunt under the cover of darkness—owls are nocturnal lifeforms, after all.

     The cloud forests seem to have moved on, leaving the sky above us as empty as the top half of a bag of chips. Melody and I walk a little more slowly than the rest of the group. We're uh... guarding the rear. Yeah, that's it. You never know when a furry boulder with teeth is going to roll out from behind one of those clay pillars and sneak up on us from behind.