Before Beasts, There Was Sound--Book 1

The Same to Wound and Heal

Kai would be lying to himself if he said there wasn't some part of him that was a little relieved that it had been Tyson and Max who were taken first. Ray, albeit sometimes ditzy in his 'I was raised in a mountain village of cat-people' sort of way, was calmer, quieter, and not like herding cats when it came to training. Kai would give instructions, point, and Ray would nod and listen as any respectable blader would have.

Nevertheless, as the day flowed into the warm summer night, he found his ears buzzing from the silence. He remembered these quiet days. To think he had ever missed them. Because although he was annoying and hands down the bane of his life, Tyson had still been his best friend—if Kai could ever claim to have ever had one. But that was just it. Tyson made friends like breathing air. He was the poster child for how the world should be, and every Kai could never be. He had hated him as much as fire could hate water, but in the end, that was what drew his respect. Because despite being so painfully naïve that he should probably have died a horrible death by now, Tyson was strong. Where Tyson should have fallen before Kai's cold might—before reality--he not only defeated him, but rescued him.

And since children's cartoons had no grip on reality, the fact that Tyson still ran strong in spite of a world that attacked him time after time had proven long ago that he was greater than Kai. He couldn't help but resent him a little for that. He suspected he always would.

He knew Ray felt much the same, as he didn't quit tearing his rip cord even after Kenny came out and announced that it was almost midnight, even after Drigger hadn't missed the target for the last hour and his fingers had started to bleed. Any good training session involved blood, in Kai's opinion.

Wood splinters flew out from the sheet of plywood. Kai caught Dranzer with flecks of sawdust raining from his fingertips, tearing off the bandage from his face at the same time. Over the hours it had become soaked with his own sweat, making the cuts from his hairline to his eyebrow sting.

"Looks like we're going to need a new dummy," said Ray, breathing hard.

"That's the last board," said a very drowsy Kenny. "Can we call it quits now? I can't sleep with the racket your making, and only God knows why Grandpa Granger can."

Drigger leapt into Ray's gloved hand. One of the pieces of cloth he had wrapped about his fingers came loose from the contact, splotched with scarlet.

"You could have just gone home," Ray said.

"And what, leave you two to get your souls sucked out too? No way no way!"

"It's not like you'd be able to do anything about it," said Ray. "I mean, unless you wanted to practice blading—"

"For the last time, I will not practice assaulting someone! I still think this is wrong."

"Then if you have nothing else to contribute, shut up." Kai brought back his fingers from his forehead to find them only lightly specked with blood. The scabs had only cracked and would harden in the fresh air. Perhaps he could make do without a bandage.

Kenny fell quiet at that. Ray gave Kai a look he and the rest of the team often made whenever they thought Kai had gone just a little too far. But what else was there to say? Kenny wasn't helping anything by staying out here with them and losing sleep. It was his brain they needed, and brains needed sleep. Ray had already said as much earlier when Kenny came out to announce what time it was.

But instead of squawking in indignation, Kenny went still.

"Alright," he stood up, tucking his laptop under his arm. "I'll head home. Call me if you get any developments."