The interior of the rattling van grew suddenly thick with tension, heavier than the rain beating on its metal roof.
Low's voice, a furious hiss, was a stark contrast to the optimistic lilt in Leonotis's.
He turned to face her, his boyish face set in a look of confused betrayal."Don't you dare?" he repeated, his voice incredulous. "Low, there's a whole village in danger. People are sick. We have a chance to help. How can you say no?"
"Because they're not saviors, Leonotis, they're bounty hunters," Low shot back, jabbing a thumb at the two men in the front seat, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring the argument. "They'll do anything for a coin, and the second we're no longer useful, they'll turn on us. We're a liability to them."
Her hand tightened around her throwing rocks. The werebear curse that had been an unwelcome shadow her whole life now felt like a second skin, a deep-seated instinct that screamed at her to distrust these men. They smelled of lies and greed, and she wasn't about to get caught up in their hunt.
Jacqueline placed a gentle hand on Leonotis's arm, her voice calm."Low is right, Leonotis. We're on the run. We're fugitives. Getting involved with a human village, with hunters no less, is a terrible risk. It could expose us. What happens when they see what we can do? What happens when they see my magic? We don't know these people. We don't know their intentions."
But Leonotis was unyielding. The image of a sick, suffering village had taken root in his heart, nourished by his deeply ingrained sense of duty. His bright, plant-based magic was meant for more than just growing flowers; it was meant to help, to heal.
"We can't just turn our backs on them," he insisted, his voice dropping to a low, passionate whisper. "It's not right. What if we're the only ones who can help? We don't have to get tangled up with the hunters. We just… we just go to the village, use our powers to heal, and then we leave. They don't have to know who we are or what we can do."
Jacqueline sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It was the same argument they'd had a hundred times. Leonotis's unwavering optimism was both his greatest strength and his most dangerous weakness. He saw the world in shades of light and shadow, and he would always, always gravitate toward the light.
Low leaned in, her voice low and menacing."You think they won't notice a sudden miraculous healing? You think they won't ask questions?"
"I'll be careful," Leonotis pleaded, his eyes wide and earnest. "I'll be discreet. I can use my plant magic in ways they won't understand. I can grow things that will help them without them knowing. I just… I have to try."
His gaze landed on the quietest member of their group."Zombiel, you feel it too, right? The… the wrongness of just leaving them to get sick?"
Zombiel, who had been watching the exchange with detached calm, gave a small nod. He didn't care about bounties or fugitives, but he did feel a growing sense of unease. The salamander spirit within him pulsed faintly, and he knew that for the first time in his life, he was a living, breathing creature. And living things had a duty to protect each other.
The argument, fueled by fatigue and the close confines of the van, was reaching a breaking point.
Joram, the burly driver, finally turned his head."You kids done with your little spat yet? We're almost there."
The four friends fell silent, the tension still humming between them.
As the van's headlights illuminated the outskirts of the village, Leonotis felt a surge of resolve. He would help. He wouldn't be like the bounty hunters who only cared about the money. He would do it for the right reasons.
He gave Jacqueline and Low a meaningful look, a silent promise. Just let me try.
But just as they reached the first house, a shadow flickered overhead.
It was faster than any bird they had ever seen, a flicker of something ancient and powerful against the stormy sky.
Joram slammed on the brakes, sending them all lurching forward.
"Did you see that?" he yelled, his voice a mixture of awe and fear.
Before anyone could answer, a piercing cry split the night.
It was the cry of the Impundulu.