[2] WEEPING MONK║you're not what I was looking for

64| When Storms Gather (Part One) - 𝐈𝐈𝐈

[CW// Mentions of blood. Minor injury. Fire. Peril]

Squirrel gets himself into trouble. Tragedy strikes.

Lancelot was right. The tremulous shake in her voice cut right through each of Lancelot's defences. With each second of silence, Ari's eyes welled up. He could feel the tremor of her body that she was trying to subdue. To leave this den was a terrible idea, but he could not force her to stay. And if she would not stay, then—

He looked down into her eyes and sighed. "Then I am coming with you." After a breath that flickered hope within her gold, Ari nodded.

Hector slid in, saying, "Me too."

"Hector—" Lancelot tried.

"We're family," Hector cut him off. His usual smiles and gaiety were gone. "I go with you."

Lancelot began to twist his head, a warning that his brother knew, yet Hector did not even blink in defiance of his elder— holding his head up and his shoulders proud. Ari gave no argument but squeezed Lancelot's hand where their bodies hid the gesture away, as though she were saying that time was running out.

By now, Lancelot had learned that Hector made his own decisions, as did Ari— and there was nothing he could do to combat either of their stubborn ways.

He noticed more eyes were upon their huddled and hushing group. The last thing that they needed was to cause any panic.

"Quietly," he said to the same effect, jerking his chin towards the tunnel.

Ari spun to Tomas in a whirl of blue cloak and silver hair. "No one else leaves." She was halfway towards the opening for their exit before Tomas could finish nodding.

He stayed within the cavern, blocking the mouth of the tunnel that Ari and the Ash brothers put behind them. Walking as if all was well and calm until they were clear of sight. The torch that Lancelot had picked up lit their way through the narrow gap, surrounded by coarse rock on every side and above. With each step, the air condensed and sounds of rain falling through the wilderness grew heavier.

Nyra stalked hot on their tails. Low sounds that were almost snarls coming from her shivered Lancelot's nerves at the surface of his skin. Ari said not a word but strode on, determined. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all.

Thunder boomed as they left the warmth of the cavern and emerged into blistering cold. Sheets of rain smacked down upon their shoulders and winds forced the hoods off of their heads— gusting this way and that, tearing through the forest. Leaves were being ripped from their stems and whirling over the forest floor. The trail, even somewhat sheltered by the high rise of land behind them was treacherously on the edge of being a danger in itself.

Black clouds blanketed the sky. Yet there was light— a kind of amber haze up above the towering treetops. Ari was dashing off towards that glow before Lancelot could blink or tell her to wait. Nyra pelted ahead after her and overtook, kicking up dirt to the air with her great muddied paws.