You're good! I wasn't originally sure how involved Mal would be so I purposely left it so he could be skipped. I'll join the posting order now <3
He also managed to roll an 86, which is surprising considering his luck is usually horrible (not linking, but it's in the discord).
Heavy rain obscured almost everything. It dampened sound, masked scent, and washed away tracks, but Mal had always had a knack for picking up on subtle, often missed clues. Despite poor conditions, Myna
had left a trail.
Which meant she had to be close.
Mal picked up his pace.
Sure he was traveling the right direction now, he focused on the bank, peering through the sheeting rain for any sign of her distinct silhouette and coloring. Or, given her track record since he'd known her, maybe he'd
hear her cussing out the fish, first.
Mal snorted. Yeah, actually that sounded more likely.
'Not safe...'
Operating under that assumption, it took Mal a split second to realize the voice crashing into his skull
didn't belong to his companion.
'Take shelter, NOW.'
No. That wasn't Myna's distinct accent. It wasn't her tone, or pitch, or someone talking with a physical body at all. It just...
was. Like a thought that wasn't his own, clear as day and loud as a warning bell.
Shit.
Paws skidding on wet grass, pine needles, and mud, Mal stopped so abruptly he left furrows in the latter. A deep growl rose in his throat, hackles rising to bedraggled points. Green-hazel eyes scanned his surroundings, and he retreated a few steps further into the treeline, putting a towering, sharp-smelling pine to his back.
What the fuck?
A voice. In his head. Drenched in pressing anxiety and sharpened by purpose. Telling him to—hide?
Mal was well acquainted with fear. With being outclassed. Outnumbered. He knew how to recognize when it was more prudent to run, or hide, than fight, and when he was smart enough to listen to his instincts, Mal found they rarely steered him wrong.
He didn't trust the voice. But he did trust his intuition. And right now every single speck of his being was humming in frantic agreement: he needed to
run.
Something was coming. Something terrible was coming. Something he couldn't fight with teeth and fury, something that struck a horror in Mal so deep it pierced marrow. The knowledge loomed, rose like a blade poised to fall.
Nope. Absolutely fucking not. Fuck the fish, and fuck breakfast, and fuck the rain and whatever cursed-ass bullshit was about to happen, Mal was
gone.
He turned to run. Hesitated.
Shit, Myna...
Mal was heartless in a number of ways, but he didn't make a habit of stabbing allies in the back. That tended to come back to bite you more often than not, and Mal tried to avoid it if possible. Sure, they'd only just agreed to work together, but Mal
had promised to fight with her, and he had enough personal scruples not to spit on that in the same breath.
Indecision cost him a second. Then rendered it pointless as the sound of a body pelting full speed down the shore past him cut through the rain. A blur of red, white, and black through the grass—small, sodden-wet, glinting with gold bangles. Mal did a double take. Nearly missed the signs of a second wolf hot on her heels. A stranger with black and white fur.
Mal snapped out of his daze.
Whatever the hell was going on, it was happening in
that direction. Mal ran, following them like his life depended on it.