With ears ringing and vision quivering, Dara ran through the haze of burning canvas, spouting plumes of smoke and dust, and panicking bodies. Branches ripped from the canopies, raining down on basecamp like angry insects. What in the world did Page do to the amplisetter? What was the purpose of making a neutral basecamp explode?

It turned out the Sivr-id weren't good people, either. The counselor said it was for Dara's interest, but what was the point of killing one person for the sake of the war? Even if Page was a Doix, whatever resistance they belonged to probably had a legion of them. Page would simply be replaced, remembered for a while maybe, but a new soul would eventually take their place. They would be forgotten, and if Dara contributed to that, they'd never be able to live with it. Scavenging was hard enough. Causing the crash would be even worse.

Dara has to find Page. They pushed past one of their friends in the scavenging department, sending them toppling against a pile of burning crates. Dara stood on tiptoes, keeping Page's bobbing head from the mass of figures peppering the horizon.

"Page!" They called, but their voice was lost in a gazillion things happening all at once. The detonated bomb in the gadgetry tent wasn't the only one planted in the area. It wasn't a massive leap to think Page crashed in Tagradelo's scrapyard because they were sent there for this sole mission.

Page must have known which basecamp Dara belonged to, and they exploited that by having Dara lead them straight into the heart, where they could inflict the most damage. It wasn't a stretch to think that the groundwork was already laid even before Page arrived. They just needed to set the trap off, and Dara enabled exactly that.

The counselor knew this, yet they still sent Dara to retrieve the skycraft's core. Why? How much had the counselor planned, knowing they invited the Rohai-rau themselves as soon as Dara brought the core? How much had Page and the Viz'ni rebels thought about this, to be able to get ahead of the Rohai-rau, going as far as expecting their arrival? All of it hurt Dara's mind. They weren't suited for the battlefield.

Lasershots hissed around them. Their arms flew over their head, shielding it from the unwanted elements. Hunkered down, they plowed through the chaos. The Rohai-rau's black body suits whizzed through the clouds of smoke, swiveling their pistols and firing at everything and nothing. Panicked screams littered the hazy veil. No one minded Dara as they stalked after Page who had used the minute distraction to flee to the jungle.

The basecamp was hidden, and hidden well. If not for Dara and the counselor's invitation, no one would be able to stumble into it by accident. That was why it took Page little time to lose Dara in the winding maze of trunks and overgrown foliage. If one lost a tail, other tails would be bound to follow.

Dara hissed. Not a chance. They tore through one of the infinitely possible paths Page had gone. Sceneries similar to the one they had left greeted them. Their eyelids squeezed shut, ears flicking on the sides of their head. Sivr-id senses were inferior, but they were able to sift through the layer of natural sounds to filter out something that didn't belong. Plus, Dara grew up exploring the forest; it was their second home. Their eyes snapped open, inviting the fading forest light in. Northwest.

They bounded in that direction, keeping track of the smell of upturned soil and the silent cries of grass as their blades were bruised by heavy steps, as if the one who made them was running. Dara swerved past an indistinct array of trunks, slapping the undergrowth away. A huge wall of gray blocked their way, halting their run.

There, Page clawed at the smooth surface, their nails making light scratches against the pristine stone. So, they ended up here too. They whirled upon sensing Dara's presence.

Dara put their hands forward in a placating gesture. "I am alone," they said. "They did not follow me here."

In a flash, Page pulled a knife from their belt and laid the edge against their neck. "I do not care," they hissed. "My mission is done. If you found me, it would not take them long."

"What are you doing?" Dara demanded, stepping forward. The grass crunched underfoot.

Page backed away, their shoulders flattening against the slab. They pressed the knife deeper into their skin, and purple blood lined the length of their neck. "It is better to die than be taken captive," they replied. "You will not lead me to my doom."

"You won't stop the war even if you kill yourself," Dara reasoned. What could Dara say to make Page remove that blade from their skin? The Viz'ni's mind was set. They have come here to die, and Dara couldn't do anything about that.

Then, an idea clicked, making their ears perk up as if they heard something. "We can do it," Dara blurted, gesturing in the air between them. "Together. We can stop the war. Just don't...do not end this here."

"Cute." A smile ripped through Page's lips as the word bled out of their mouth. Then, they slid the knife down, severing a nerve. Or two.

"No!" Dara ran forward, arms outstretched. They barely stopped Page's fall as the Viz'ni toppled to the ground. Blood spurted from a gaping wound on their neck. With shaking hands, Dara attempts to stop it. A sob built up on their throat. Page...

A wrist clamped around Dara's, jolting them out of their melancholy. "Get down," Page whispered, eyes glistening enough to tell Dara the Viz'ni wasn't dying anytime soon. "I hear the Rohai-rau. Pretend I'm dead."

"You! Step away from the Doix," a deep voice echoed behind Dara almost on cue.

Dara followed, bringing both arms up, their heart thundering against their chest. Never had Dara lied to a Rohai-rau, much less a soldier, but here they were. "The Viz'ni is dead," they said, nudging Page's arm on the ground which had once again become limp. Page was a good actor, Dara would give them that. They showed the soldiers their hands, which were stained with purple. "I did my best to save them, but..."

Dara needed not finish. The Rohai-rau took one look at the lump of green skin tinged with purple and at the puddle of purple blood building on the forest soil, and the leader retrieved the communicator from their laser-proof vest. "Retreat," the soldier said to the receiver. "The Doix has perished. Inform the Generae."

Dara watched the entire platoon turn on their heels and march off into the undergrowth. It took a few minutes, but the last trace of the soldiers vanished in the horizon they came from. Their nerves calmed, and Dara whirled to Page who sat up and wiped at the wound on their neck.

"What now?" Dara asked, gaining Page's attention.

"Do you want to go back to the counselor?" Page asked, a frown building in their lips as the blood on their hands wouldn't come off even after wiping them on their trousers.

Dara stuck a lip out. "I do not want to be a part of a circle of selfish traitors."

Page grunted, bracing their knee to pull their weight up. They extended a hand towards Dara—a sign of extreme trust and kinship. Their fingers were still stained with their own blood. "Then, you are welcome to come with me," they said. "You will have a home with the Viz'nir. If you are up for it, that is."

Dara took Page's hand without question.

"From now on, you have become one of us." Page smiled. It was enough to send heat up Dara's cheeks—something they never felt before. "You have become a traveler."