Grunk was thrown onto the ground of the ghetto, the van driving backwards out the gate guarded by the armed humans. He got to his feet and ran toward the gate. He would have flew but his wings were broken.
"Grunk!" He turned around and saw Claudine running towards him. They hugged with the male pixie picking her up and throwing her around his waist.
She stood back and looked at him, his body. She saw the wings were gone, her smile turning up side down. "They tore your wings," she said.
Grunk nodded his head, looking at her missing wing. He picked at it. The two sighed, looking around at the dysfunctional place they were in. The torn and worn down people varying from specie to specie.
Blood littered the street along with actual liter, the ghetto smelt of sewage, just urine.
Grunk stood frozen, Claudine just staring at him. Grunk's fingers twitched toward Claudine's shoulder, tracing the jagged remnant of her wing nub, a phantom limb aching in humid air.
His own back felt unnervingly light without the familiar drag of iridescent membranes; a sudden draft made him flinch where gossamer should've caught the breeze.
Claudine's fingers interlaced with his as they stood paralyzed in the putrid alley, the communal grief thicker than the humidity clinging to their skin. Distant shouts echoed off corrugated tin shacks, punctuated by a rhythmic, uneven clopping growing louder on the rain-slicked cobbles.
Around the corner of a leaning stack of pallets limped a centaur, his front right foreleg grotesquely bent mid-cannon bone, the skin split and weeping oily fluid that mingled with the street's filth.
He dragged it forward with agonizing effort, each step jolting his torso violently, sweat dripping into his wild, bloodshot eyes. His labored breaths hitched, ribs heaving against a battered leather harness slung with scavenged scraps, dented cans, frayed rope, the burden tilting his already precarious balance.
"This is horrible," Claudine said.
Grunk nodded his head. "Canas is gone. That was left. That was the only part left, not touched by Apex." He looked down, looking at his shoes as they stood in a dirty, filthy puddle.
Claudine sighed. "Come," she said as she grabbed his hand. She pulled him away from the centaur and down the street. Grunk walked behind her, looking around.
They walked through the ghetto, stepping over piles of trash and small puddles. Grunk looked at Claudine as they walked. She held his hand tightly, silently.
They approached a trailer that sat behind a chain-link fence. The trailer was tilted on cinder blocks, its yellow paint faded and peeling to reveal rusted metal beneath. One window had been covered with a stained cardboard box, taped into place. The door of the trailer was open slightly.
Grunk pushed the door open wider. The trailer was dark inside. There were two dirty mattresses on the floor. Some of the stuffing had escaped from holes in the mattresses.
There was also a sink without handles and a counter covered in grime. Claudine let go of Grunk's hand and walked deeper into the trailer. She sat down on one of the mattresses and folded her legs underneath her. She stared at the wall. Grunk sat beside her, trying to take it all in.
....
Sous ran down the royal palace hallway; she scaled the wall, running on all fours doing her best to get to the infirmary. Her antennas were working over time, trying to detect where Alana was. Her ear twitched left, her ear twitched right.
The Alpha ran from the guards who all chased after all. She didn't have time ti explain especially once she got the news that Alana was attacked.
She slid into the infirmary room and saw Alana laying there, a blanket wrapped around her. The news on the television. Alana sat up when she saw Sous, apologizing to her guards, shooing them away.
Sous stood there looking at the elf. Her children by her side and her husband. The husband stepped to the side, a bit intimidating to be around Sous.
"Alana," Sous said, stepping slowly to her old friend. "What happened?"
"Apex attacked; they want the island but we held them off," the queen explained. "They'll be back. And I'll be here-"
"I'm sorry but who are you?"
Alana instantly rolled her eyes and sighed, slamming her hands on her bed.
"Tsk," Sous started. "I'm her friend from school."
"My apologies, I thought you were a murderer," the Prince said.
"Don't-you-dare!" Alana said to her husband.
The prince left the room, leaving just her daughter and son.
Sous approached Alana slowly, her antennae quivering as they absorbed the sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with the copper-tinged fear radiating off her friend. The elf queen's bandaged side.
Alana's children watched with unblinking eyes, their hands clutching their mother's blanket in curiosity.
Sous stepped outside and saw the husband pacing back and forth. She appoarched him. "Listen, I'm not trying to bring trouble. I am ally."
"I know," he said. "I'm just-I'm just upset by all of this," he said to Sous. "They just took over Groken and...and now here they are. Its like they want to take over everything!"
"They do," Sous said. She held out her hand for the prince to take. The husband looked at her hand and nodded his head. Sous led the man back to the infirmary room where Alana was.
"Sorry, sweetie," he said kissing his wife on the forehead.
Sous stood by the door way. "I don't know anything about war but this seems to be serious. They're not gonna stop." The Alpha said realizing she was going to have to get back in the game. "Gladius!"
The sword appeared with Sous holding it up.
"Who's training you?"
"Kara," Sous said. "I had to relearn all these spells. I don't know what we gonna do with the kids. We might have to be away for long. Or me," the Alpha said.
The sword disappeared with Sous walking to the window to where Alana's kids were.
"By the way, Sous, that's Davida and Hanaku, my daughter and son and my husband Shilo," Alana said, introducing them.