Fire's Last Descendant

Chapter 12

 ••• Chapter 12 •••    

       I see the aswang, the "Commander", again. Where I am watching is not in a cave, but in a lush, green, leafy forest. I have to push several leaves and branches out of the way so that I can see what is happening.

    This time, the aswang is not yelling at a gashadokuro or promising life to undead creatures. This time, it walks ahead of ten ghosts on each side that are dressed in different kinds of armor. The ghosts have cuts, gashes, or stains on their armor to show that they did not return from a fiercly fought battle. In front of the aswang is a little grey cat with darker grey stripes, leading the part onward.        "We've been walking for an awfully long time," the aswang announces.        The cat stops and lashes its tail, annoyed. It turns its head to reveal one yellow eye and one green eye, both glowing as brightly as lampposts at night. "Maybe so, but we are going in the correct direction. And you have wings, so you might as well use them."

       "I'll fly after I eat," the aswang answers, rolling it's eyes. The grey cat flinches and says, "We will rest for a bit, then get back on the path."

       All of the ghosts sit down next to each other in a circle an converse in a multitude of different languages while the aswang sniffs the air. 

       "You do know," the aswang begins, "that time is of the essence here. I'm not saying that I don't appreciate the break, but we must hurry. The Fire will wake up inside of her soon and we don't have knowledge of the whereabouts of the girl."

       "Aren't dogs used for tracking?" The cat asks tiredly. The aswang rolls her eyes again. She launches herself onto the tree she circled and climbs up the wood. A few seconds later, she lands back on the ground in a crouch.

       "The other three humans with her are clever they must have come up with some way to disguise her scent. Anyhow, it's not only her whereabouts of now, but of also where she will be. And I know he will tell us."

       I am about to sneak forward to hear more of the conversation when I can just barely see my bedroom at the safe house come into view. The bedroom becomes clearer, and soon, my eyes open the rest of the way.

       Grumbling to myself, I sit up in bed. I am upset that I cannot go back to the dream or vision or whatever I was having. I lightly trace my fingers over my arms up and down, and the events of what happened at dinner that night.

      Before I sleepily trudged back to my bedroom last night, all four of us had ordered Mexican food. Between a bite of my chicken burrito, Sam had gasped and said, "Omigosh, Gabby, what happened to you?"

       "Whrrr?" I'd asked, my mouth full of burrito. I swallowed the rest of burrito and asked again, "What?"

         Sam pointed to my arm. My eyebrows furrowed as I turned my head to the upper part of my left arm. Where the aswang had clawed me there was three large not-so-deep gashes that looked like a kitten's tiny claws going down a curtain. I'm not sure how anybody hadn't noticed it before let alone me.

       "It's fine, the aswang just got me a little," I said. Sam had scoffed at my dissmissive behavior towards the wound. She got up from her seat and left the room. She'd returned a few seconds later with some alcohol and wrap. After the alcohol had been applied, she wrapped my arm.

       "Um... thanks?" I said when she was done. After dinner, I'd sleepily walked back to my room, got a towel and showered again, then changed into a loose T-shirt that was two sizes too big for me and some shorts. As soon as I got dressed, I crashed.

       Now, my hands gently find a loose part of the wrapping and pull it down. When I pull the piece of wrapping down, the rest falls apart. The scratch on my arm is less bloody, but I fear it will become a scar.