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WITHOUT ANOTHER second to think, the mouse exploded, sending all four of you crashing against the building behind you. "F-fuck," you sputtered, taking a moment to spit up blood as you attempted to push yourself up. There was a pounding in your head that wasn't helped by the hat that had remained stuck to you.
"Gyro! Don't let go of your hand! Hold down your fingers no matter what!" screamed Mountain Tim, just as a soft clink echoed out. Your eyes focused on a glimmer of gold that fell from Gyro's hand: "A pin came off! Gyro! It came off your hand!" Suddenly, smoke was coming from his palm— her stomach sunk.
"Pick it up, Gyro. Pick up the pin and put it back in! Hurry up and put it back in!"
"But...wasn't the pin in the... palm of his hand?"
As the other men screamed at each other, the ringing in your ears came back, making you sink back to the floor with a grimace. Tim seemed to take notice and turned to you, shaking you a couple of times as Gyro started screaming at Johnny— "Y-Your sweat! Gyro your hand is sweating!" Tim started shouting too, making you shut your eyes tightly as your body started to ache again.
"Back up! Get further away!" Your eyes opened to find a hazy, silver figure in front of you, blocking the explosion that sprouted from Gyro's leg. The ghostly touches you had felt all throughout the race replaced the figure once your vision cleared, allowing you to see through the smoke and find Gyro collapsed on the ground, muttering to himself with a destroyed leg.
"You won't get away, Oyecomova! The letter from the king's servant mentioned it...He'll try and get to it before us..." started Gyro as he dragged himself over to his horse, "...to the present from the king...to the Zombie Horse. It can heal fatigue and wounds." You were far too disoriented to question whatever Gyro was saying and gripped your hat's brim tightly as you pushed yourself up.
"Woah there, son," called Tim, still bleeding all over as he tugged on your sleeve, "ya ain't going nowhere with those wounds." You gave him a once-over and dread bubbled in the back of your mind. How had he even survived? What if you succumbed to a similar fate? Whatever had saved him wasn't guaranteed to save you, even with the tangible amount of wounds you had after the initial attack.
You stumbled to your feet yet stayed still, eyes fluttering open and shut as the ringing plagued your hearing once more. There was shouting and more explosions but all you could see was a flash of golden-white in front of you. Your eyes shot open and Thunder stood in front of you, bags somehow unscathed and attached to the saddle. Had Mountain Tim done this while you were sleeping? But the bags you had brought into the hotel were there too...
"Th-Thunder," you managed to call out as goosebumps littered your body. You turned to look at Tim whose body seemed to be putting itself back together. Your mind felt too hazy for you to question that and you made your way to Thunderstruck instead, who seemed agitated as she watched her rider try and get onto the saddle. When you finally got on, you had stopped to look at Mountain Tim who gave you a playfully stern look.
