TBOS: Round 1, Scene 3

I… I don't like being alone, not like this. I want to go home! I want to play with Antigone again! Like we used to when things were simple and fun…

Swiftsure padded softly, making his cautious journey between the trees. The forest itself seemed to move and shift, blocking his path and sending him deeper into despair. He was frightened of this place, frightened of what might happen to him – what if he never saw Antigone again? She was his best friend, his creator and companion… Without her, could he even exist? He felt hopeless here, as if the trees themselves had sucked him dry of faith and optimism.

Stopping momentarily in the shadow of a tree, a quiet whine spilled from Swiftsure's parted jaws, and his mermaid-like tail drooped sadly between his legs. He sensed something was upon him, stalking him silently in the shade and watching his every move. There was nowhere for him to run or hide, however; the forest was pushing him somewhere. Swiftsure only hoped it wouldn't be into the jowls of something terrifying.

At first, entering the Book of Stories had been fun; he had passed through the veil of the imaginary and into reality, able to be seen and heard, to have his actions affect the tangible world. Yes, it had been great in the beginning. Yet reality was paired with many unpleasant partners: hunger, fear, danger, sadness. He had never dealt with emotions past their glazed, superficial surfaces; now he was drowning in them. Swiftsure had never understood emotion, not fully, for he had never experienced them in their rawest forms. Emotions bloomed reactively, responding to the environment any given individual was surrounded by – in the end, he held no control over them. Not fun.

Just then, a sad sound reached his ears. Swiftsure became absolutely still, his canine senses honing in on a series of muffled sobs. He sat there for a while, unsure of what he should do. Opposing his better judgment, his doggish tendencies longed to comfort the source of this crying, yet his newly developed human side told him to stay far away. What if this was a trap? Hadn't Antigone read him fairytales about monsters who mimicked the cries of people? For him, it was a coin toss; go to the noise, stay away from the noise, go to the noise, stay away from the noise. But… if someone was actually in pain, wasn't he obligated to try and help them? Making a decision, Swiftsure lightly set one paw in front of the other, warily making his way toward the who or the what that was waiting for him.

It was a who.

Slumped against a tree, a lone woman sat, head buried in her knees. Watching her, so obviously alone and afraid, Swiftsure felt guilty for nearly abandoning someone in need. Exiting his shadowy refuge, he stepped forward to speak with her, still keeping a good, solid distance between the both of them.

"Girl, why are you crying?" he asked sympathetically, a tinge of curiosity in his voice. Startled, the woman sprang to her feet, gasping loudly at the sound of his voice. She was tall and very plain, though there was something undeniably fresh about her, like a baby bird. Her wood-colored eyes focused on Swiftsure, her chest heaving heavy breaths as she watched him, sizing him up. Most unusual was her face, which showed emotion sporadically, twitching from anxious to blank to worry to blank again. Eventually, her expression settled on neutrality, and she proceeded by simply staring at him. She appeared to be concentrating very hard - Swiftsure could see it in her eyes - yet her face revealed nothing. Her mouth twitched a few times, tricking him into thinking she would respond, yet she never made a sound; she almost appeared unable to operate her own body. "Um, a-are you okay," he asked again, his voice breaking nervously. She responded with the same confused gaze, staring him down as if her life depended on it. In a way, he could almost see her brain madly working to process information.

"I am… the Guard," She responded, a mechanical tone jarring her speech.

"W-what?" Swiftsure said, confused by her response. "Is that your name?"

"I… I am the Guard," she repeated, this time with more fluidity.

"O-okay. Um, are you alright? Why were you crying?"

"Who… are… you?" she said slowly, forcing each word to fall from her mouth.

"Me? I'm Swiftsure," he answered, trying his best not to sound frightened. There was something wrong with this woman, that much was clear. Still, her visible helplessness painted her to be innocent, and this saved her from being entirely intimidating.

"Swiftsure," she said to herself, repeating his name a few times under her breath. "Do you… know where we are?" The woman was beginning to become more lucid, her sentences forming quicker than before, her face portraying expressions he was familiar with.

"No, I don't know what this place is. I… I'm lost."

"Lost?"

"Y-yeah."

"Lost…"

"…"

"I… I think I'm lost too," she stated, closing her eyes briefly. Her arms moved upward, hands reaching to massage her temples – was she trying to remember something?

"Is that why you were crying?" Swiftsure probed in an attempt to gather more information.

"Yes, I think so… I… I don't like this place… It frightens me," she said, her voice filling with emotion. Swiftsure nodded in agreement.

"M-me too."

"How did you lose yourself?"

"What?"

"How did you become… like this," she said, gesturing to the trees around her.

"Oh, lost? How did I get lost?"

She nodded her head yes.

"Well, I'm not so sure, really," he started, mermaid tail swishing behind him. "I was with my friend Antigone. We were in the library. Then I fell into this strange book – not sure how that happened – and I wound up on a beach! But it was okay 'cause Antigone was with me… And there was this new girl, Aella – she was pretty nice too, I guess. But, uh, then everything got real white, and there was this really loud noise! Like something was breaking or changing… I dunno… After that, I woke up here… alone. I really miss my friends…" As he finished, Swiftsure too was overcome with emotion, and his voice became soft. Dejectedly, his eyes fell to the ground. "How did you end up here?"

"Me? I can't… I'm not sure, it's all so cloudy. I was running. The Thief had stolen an apple, and it was my job to catch him… but he didn't do it correctly, he turned down a different path, a path I had never been down before… I followed him. After that, I…" By now, the woman was on the verge of tears; she shook, frustrated by her failing memory. Swiftsure hated watching people cry, especially girls; panicking, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"O-oh!? Why do you think you can't remember?" he said stupidly. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Swiftsure wished he could take them back – it was an obvious mistake.

"I don't know!" she sobbed, arms moving to hug her frame tightly, "Why is this happening to me!?" Then, crumpling like a paper doll, she fell to her knees and shuddered deeply. This young woman – the Guard, as she had called herself – must have been the saddest person Swiftsure had ever met, and her sadness made him even sadder. He wanted to shrink, to disappear under the weight of their combined pain. Was there ever a more pathetic pair? He wondered.

Remorsefully, Swiftsure moved toward her, feeling responsible for her breakdown. Like a sad puppy, he came to rest beside her, one paw reaching out to rest delicately on her leg.

"Hey, uh, d-don't cry. I'm sorry for asking," he said, trying to comfort them both. Short, stifled breaths filling the air, the Guard extended a gloved hand and scratched him behind the ears. Swiftsure closed his eyes, appreciating her warmth. For a time, the two were silent, thankful to have found one another. Once she started to stabilize Swiftsure pulled away and made eye contact.

"I feel like we should stick together," he began quietly, "It's better than being alone, I think." Quietly, the Guard nodded, pale brown hair falling in front of her face in sheets. She sat there for a moment, summoning her courage; exhaling deeply, she stood and brushed off her clothing.

"I apologize for the way I've been acting… I'm just… confused at the moment," she started, pausing. "What should we look for?" It was a fine question, one Swiftsure had every intention to answer. Yet life was never as simple as it should be, and before he had the chance to respond to her, a sickening snarl cut loudly through the forest clearing. It was shocking, terrifying even, to hear something so horrible after hours of absolute silence.

"What was that!?" the Guard said, voice raised.

"I-I don't know!" Swiftsure responded, terror brimming in his eyes. Suddenly, the forest was filled with the appalling noise, echoing endlessly against the trees. The longer it lasted, the louder it got, the closer it came; soon, something could be seen racing through the shadows encircling them. Heat surged through his body as his pulse skyrocketed, heart punching against his ribcage like a prizefighter. From the Guard he could hear her ragged, shallow breathing, lungs contracting and expanding wildly for air. The following seconds seemed to last an eternity.

In slow motion, a great, black creature erupted from the shadows to their right, its huge red eyes glowing like lamps. It sailed through the air powerfully, charging its hulking frame into the Guard, and the two of them tumbled across the clearing. Suddenly, it was on top of her, its dark, smoky fur glistening in the forest-light: a wolf, massive and bloodthirsty. Releasing another ferocious snarl, the two began wrestling in the roots of a large tree. Unmoving, Swiftsure could only watch as the Guard struggled against the gargantuan beast. Deftly, her hands caught the wolf around the snout and clamped his mouth shut; then, squarely planting her feet in the creature's chest, she kicked it off her and into a tree. Scrambling to her feet, she steadied herself momentarily as the beast recovered, eyes locking the wolf as it slowly circled.

Standing there, the Guard's body stiffened, her thoughts quickly disintegrating. In her head she was unsure what to do; she was afraid of this creature, though she knew she had to fight. Confused and pelted by a barrage of information, the Guard's mind shut down reactively; she had not been built to withstand such mental strain. Now, she was in grave danger, presented lifelessly to an enemy intent on murdering her. However, her fate did not include dying - not yet, at least. Blaring in her mind like a fog horn, a man's voice prodded her awake again.

"I give your gloves the function 'to think'"

At that moment, electricity buzzed in her hands, moving up her arms and into her head; forcefully, she was jolted back into the fray, her consciousness returning with a vengeance. On her gloves were vein-like patterns, glowing blue with power; she never remember her gloves doing this before. Regardless, her life had been saved, and if she survived the coming confrontation she would owe it to well-tailored leather. Ready for a fight, her face was one of determination; it was time to kick ass.

Swiftsure watched her diligently, fearing they both would be killed when the Guard shut down; when she recovered the canine breathed a nervous sigh of relief. Then, In a fashion which connoted experience, the Guard raised her hands to tighten her gloves. Somehow the frightened girl from earlier had completely disappeared.

"Swiftsure," she said gravely, "Stay behind me."