Sonic is missing.
Tails is, too.
Her friends are missing and Amy is going to find them.
She has to. It's been too long since she last saw them. She ignored the first signs out of pure selfishness and won't let things play out any longer.
Amy is going to find her friends and there's only one place to look.
A gust of wind rushes between the trees, inflating her dress with chilled air. She rubs some warmth into her arms as she walks, wishing she had brought a jacket. It's cold, even though autumn is just arriving and the air should probably still be warm.
At least it's only evening. The sun is golden and shining, gracing everything with what comfort and warmth it can provide. It brushes the horizon and turns the canopy of changing leaves a beautiful orange-gold.
If only Amy didn't have to do this alone. She misses her friends, wishes they could watch this sunset with her. Whoever broke them apart is going to pay big time.
She steps into the clearing, and the sheer presence of the house hits her like a brick. It's aged and splintering and fills the atmosphere with apprehension.
This is not a safe place.
The silence is numbing. Each sunlit leaf seems to shy away from the structure, keeping its reassuring beauty to itself. Amy shivers as she takes in the sight, then slowly moves closer. It feels like exiting a dream to explore this monster of a nightmare. Even someone like Sonic wouldn't come here on their own terms.
Everything about this feels wrong. She shouldn't be here. Nonetheless, the pink hedgehog reaches out and grips the doorknob, then...hesitates, glancing around.
They should be able to talk this out civilly, right? And she has her hammer just in case.
Just open the door.
Muffled voices echo from somewhere inside, snapping Amy out of her stupor. The words are inaudible, but their tone is of obvious alarm. A faint crack and thump follow. Then silence.
Wide-eyed, Amy backs away from the door. All her fears have just been confirmed. She clutches the pouch at her side to stifle the clink of rings as she dashes around the corner.
The window.
She skids to a stop and crouches underneath it. The blinds are wide open. Her heartbeat picks up as she delicately grips the sill and raises her head to peek inside.
It's all pitch black. But she knows what she heard. She blinks a few times, letting her eyes adjust...then gasps and hits the ground.
Because she did not just see that. That was not a pair of eyes.
Please don't let that have been a pair of eyes. They were right there. Crimson, staring, right on the other side of the window. Looking directly at her.
She thought she'd been careful enough.
Without warning, a crash sounds from right above her head, and shards of broken glass come down like rain. Amy's scream is cut short when a hand jabs down to crush her windpipe and pull her over the windowsill.
Everything is blurry from then on. The last thing she feels clearly is the floor underneath her, then the thump of stairs as she is dragged down, down, down, deeper into the darkness.
The red-eyed figure tosses her body onto something furry and rotting.
He scoops up the fallen drawstring pouch, tugs open the top, and reads the crumpled note inside.
