Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Thirty-Nine | Fourth World

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"What's that?" Thorn asked under his breath as Finch hurriedly bundled a few objects together and loosely tied up the top like a parcel. The rest of their team, who had been instructed to keep a look out, also spared a glance to look at their youngest member. But apparently standing within the heart of the fight didn't faze him.

They had stepped over a number of bodies, but there was no way to say for certain which side was winning. Both sides suffered casualties, which was hard to swallow as Thorn proceeded onwards with his small team, heading directly to where the real danger was. But he would be forever grateful to those who had fallen, as they had given his team a greater chance of survival. If not just for the time being.

They soon reached an area which was once littered with differing shelters. But it was these small, makeshift homes, which had been demolished. And still loitering around were the culprits. Once spotting them, Finch had dropped into a crouch. The rest of the team naturally followed, looking to Thorn for the next plan of action. But instead of their leader returning the look, his attention was solely on Finch, who had proceeded to crawl away.

Without the ability to call his name and simply ask what he was doing, Thorn decided to put his faith in his younger counterpart and let him get on with what he had planned. Meanwhile, Thorn parted the leaves from where they hid and monitored the movements of their next targets.

As soon as Finch had returned, he got to work on his parcel. It was wrapped in the material they had been using as one of the bags to store their supplies. It was relatively small, but Finch filled it to the brim with what Thorn could only vaguely recognise as some type of flowers?

When Finch lifted his head, everyone noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks. This unusual sight left everyone dumbfounded, completely at a loss as to why the usually resilient teenager was crying. But Thorn suspected otherwise, his gaze instead moving towards the object in Finch's hand.

Finch didn't waste any time answering mundane questions, he reached around and grabbed the pouches that hung from each member's hip and emptied their contents. From there he expertly stuffed handfuls of these particular flowers into them and tied them slackly as he had done for the first one.

With one each, Finch finally explained as simply and quietly as he could. The pouches contained the pollen of a flower which had thrived in its lush surrounding. This particular flower was avoided by man, due to the toxicity of what it produced.

Now with a small bag full of it, it was up to Thorn to make the plan work.

Who in turn, nodded his head and gestured for them to surround their enemy, who seemed to be taking it easy. Unbelievably, they felt no threat from where they were standing. Perhaps they were just as ignorant of the situation as Thorn's small team were. Perhaps their targets believed they were winning, and so didn't have to take anymore action. Whatever the case, their reckless positions left their backs wide open. Which was ideal for the compact team, who were just as large in their ability to be stealthy. They took up their positions.

Thorn and Finch moved as one, moving to get the best view so they can make the necessary shots when the time comes. Finch almost pitied the men, as he glanced down at the pouch in his hand. From barely handling the pollen, his eyes were itchy and his nose threatening to run. The consequences would be far worse for those who got hit in the face by said toxin.

After maintaining their position, leaving enough time for their targets to lose interest in sounds they may or may not have heard, Thorn gave a sharp whistle. Which was hardly the sound of surrounding birds, and so alerted the men immediately.