Who knows?

Maybe they're just too lazy to kill you.

Unless you're worth it, of course.

______________________________

Io stepped back; dead leaves crunching under his feet in a hollow sound as if he had crushed the little bit of life left inside their dried veins.

Eyes wide; lips pale.

He had touched her arm—his fingertips brushing the surface of her skin before the cold bit into his flesh harsher than reality itself.

So cold.

Pipa was freezing.

And yet, there was the sun in her smile and light in her hair—brighter than the one up in the sky. For now, to Io, it seemed quite dark indeed.

He fell back, losing his balance for a moment as his mind knew not where to place his heart.

Luka caught the small of his back, steadying him.

It was a strange sight for the golden eagle himself. For he, too, had never seen this side of the games.

Perhaps they liked to keep it quiet, he thought at that point of time in slight indifference.

He turned the sparrow towards himself.

Io's fragile wings were tearing apart in the slowest manner—first, stripped bare of its feathers. Then, everything else; flesh and bone reduced to nothing.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Luka.

And strangely, he felt nothing else but a dull loss of sensation.

Numbness; that reminded him of complete darkness.

He stilled in the eagle's arms, swaying a little—as his world did so very much, without a friend.

Io began to wonder how he managed to get through a day without Pipa beside him; and suddenly he was quite glad to have met the eagle.

He couldn't quite put his finger on how little, or how much he should be caring for a predator. But at this point of time nothing seemed to matter to him; nothing except—

The predator tensed; eyes focused in a single direction, on guard.

Io's gaze snapped towards Pipa's body, mind going first to his friend's safety—as ironic as it might have been.

Luka seemed to be listening for something, although the sparrow wasn't entirely sure what.

He looked towards the tree that his friend was lying against, the bird in his chest beating its wings slightly faster than before—begging for an escape.

The cage remained locked.

_____________________________

What Luka had heard; was a feeble chirp.

It sounded like a dying bird.

Luka! Victoria's voice was urgent—and rightly so.

Someone's coming. I see him—

He hesitated once, listening, stilling himself for more—

Luka!

Victoria wasn't going to wait, and her Winged understood perfectly well; for it was only on rare occasions that she bothered with something apart from sophisticated wit.

His eyes flitted to the sparrow in his arms, knowing that if he were to let go of him now, the prey was sure to fall.

It's a trap, He pushed at his Link in attempt to reach the sparrow. We have to leave.

Io didn't hear him. He couldn't, at best.

His eyes wavered, but failed to leave his friend.

Nevertheless, Luka couldn't afford to wait for the prey in his moment of weakness. He knew not of his friends, and certainly felt no sadness for the girl at all.

His heart remained quite cold, and quite still indeed.

He turned on his heel—starting in the opposite direction without a second glance at Io; oh he didn't even have to think twice—

He was going to leave him behind.

The sparrow spun around, reaching for the predator's arm in attempt to prevent him from leaving.

He did, surprisingly. For the eagle stopped in his tracks, turning with a frown.

The lack of communication was beginning to get on his nerves and the desire to connect heightened into a fierce but frustrating flame.

Io was desperate.

The predator could see it in his eyes and Io himself could see it reflected in his eyes.

I can't leave Pipa here! He shook his head, sure that the voice Luka heard was weak beyond measure.

But Luka couldn't hear.

He knew that the sparrow was trying to convey something—but what?

The eagle frowned.

Io didn't know what to do. He whipped out something from his back pocket.

It shone—reflecting the light from the sun and for a moment Luka's hand reached instinctively for his own pocket, checking the presence of the Joker's charm.

Of course, the charm lay safe in his hands.

The one that didn't, however, was his own—

The King of Hearts.

His eyes narrowed.

What does he think he's doing? He dares to steal?

I wouldn't call that stealing, Victoria mused quietly, silly sparrow, taking something worthless. Let us leave, Luka.

But Luka didn't leave.

He kept his gaze on the other, embers in his eyes burning with a wary flame.

Luka?

His Avian could feel the slow burning menace that began to smother the predator with a rising panic.

Luka, you can't be seriously thinking—

Victoria stole into his silent thoughts, something else dawning onto her.

The canary.

A feeble chirp sounded high up in the tree behind Pipa; its roots fixing what was left of persistent life into the earth. The girl lay motionless, her back against the callous trunk of the oak with her limbs splayed in the most uncanny positions; and yet—

There, above her still form, emerged a hopeful spark of yellow amongst the vast shades of endless green.

It was Sylvester, Pipa's Avian.

The bird fell from a branch—almost like a blossom shivering in the wind—but Io ran forward with a smile that Luka had seen many a time, outstretched hands receiving the beautiful bird as if it was a gift from the skies.

Luka. Now would be the time to leave; if the initial plan holds.

Sylvester was warm—the beat of his heart weak, but present; and that made all the difference for Io, who had found a way through the fog in his mind though questions threatened to darken his skies.

The sparrow glanced over his shoulder, gaze meeting the eagle's before turning away in defeat. He thought it naïve of himself to expect help from the other, and Lyra chided him for doing so.

While Io debated quietly inside; whether he ought to threaten the predator further with the charm in his hand (to resort to blackmail, Lyra reminded in horror) or simply leave it up to the eagle to decide, Luka was a step ahead.

Is the vulture coming?

A minute away, Victoria informed promptly.

The Avian is alive—how is that possible?

Victoria was silent. She found no answer to that question. Trust a vulture to sink lower than all of us; disgusting creatures, they are.

Luka noted the bitter grudge in his Avian's voice, but said nothing.

He advanced towards the sparrow kneeling on the ground beside his friend, her Avian—the canary—snug in his hands.

The boy jumped when Luka's shadow loomed over him and Pipa's still frame, and he couldn't help but cower slightly in fear.

He held the canary close to his heart; as if that itself could protect another life.

Luka picked up the girl—as easy as though she was a life-sized doll, and propped her limp body over his back.

You've got to be kidding me, Victoria warned in an exasperated manner, a typical Avian tired of humans and their strange unpredictable behavior. Luka, this wasn't part of any plan.

Io stood gaping at the two, Victoria taking off into the skies on watch as Luka adjusted the prey on his back.

You're joking, his Avian scoffed. You know he's marked her with his scent he's going to find you and—oh go on, ignore me like you always do...stupid humans.

But all Luka could see was the smile on his sparrow's face.

Go on, stare longer. I hope your eyes fall out, Victoria went on sarcastically. She wasn't in a good mood. Haven't you seen enough of that smile? We've been watching him every day—

There was an owl's screech in the distance;

A fair warning of an approaching darkness.

Great! Victoria laughed. We are having such a pleasant time. Always nice to have more enemies.

Shut up Victoria. You know I'll think of something, Luka snapped with a click of his tongue, picking up speed even with the girl on his back.

Oh I know you will—in fact you better.

Io followed closely behind; his bag over his shoulder and Luka's in his arms. He had tucked Sylvester on top of the canvas and wrapped him in the shirt that he had worn the night before to keep him warm. And most importantly, alive.

They seemed to be running from something—but Io knew not what.

He knew nothing.

He's closing in, Victoria hummed. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Vultures don't hurt.

That's what you think, she laughed.

The eagle could smell something in the air that meddled with his senses but it wasn't a scent that he could put a finger on; it was strange. It reminded him of Io's scent and how strong it had been the night before—

He turned with a frown.

The sparrow gazed expectantly back at him, but not...him.

There was no scent.

It was as if it had never been there in the first place.

But this was not the time to think about strange occurrences that took the form of a tiny frame—someone else, someone bigger was after the things that he, Luka, wanted to have.

And that didn't sit well with the predatory instinct in his gut.

He had seconds to devise a trap that would counter the one he had stepped into; and luck was not on his side.

Luka told himself that he could do this.

It might have been his first time in the Season games—but it definitely wasn't his first time tasting the streak of victory that felt so, so close within his reach.

He would.

He would win this.

_______________________________

Mr. Eagle?

Luka?

Io called out desperately, realizing, all of a sudden, that he was beginning to lag behind. Still, he couldn't tell what was going on.

No one would tell him.

The eagle and his Avian pressed on in continued silence, and all the sparrow could do was to clutch his weak beating heart and pick up his pace yet again—eyes fixed on the limp form of his friend on Luka's back as a sort of encouragement.

It provided a propelling force to his feet, in the very least.

Though there was something weighing him down; and he knew not what.

Lyra? Something's not right—we're going too fast.

His Avian provided no answer; for she, too, could feel a wicked stirring in her fragile wings—so fragile that they resembled the ease of death in ripping life apart.

She told him of her instinct, as unreliable as it might have seemed, her instinct of a prey being hunted. I don't know. I wouldn't say I'm sure of it, but...perhaps it's just an inkling—

In front, Luka had slowed to a stop.

He dropped Pipa to the ground—her doll-like hair falling in lifeless waves, and placed her yet against another tree. Grabbing the sparrow's arm next, he proceeded to lead him somewhere else; a place to hide—

Io jerked his arm out of the eagle's grasp in pale fright and panic. He turned back, going for Pipa, his friend.

__________________________________

What is he doing?

Luka hissed in frustration, reigning in his darkness that tried to escape. He knew that it wasn't the time to flare up—things were acting strangely ever since this morning.

It felt as if he and his companion just weren't on the same ground.

Nothing clicked into place;

Predator and Prey came apart as raw as their roles—a jarring disconnection that found little comprehension in the minds of Luka and Io.

Silly sparrow. Did he not hear what you just said? Victoria could feel the tension that pulled taut in the air ready to snap. He doesn't know a thing he's doing!

Sparrow, listen to me—leave her! Luka knew that his tone was nowhere near nice but there was no holding back instruction. Vaughn's here, we need to bait him into thinking that—

A shadow descended upon the pair; almost as if it was from heaven itself, but the choking darkness that crept into Io's heart and the smothering irritation in Luka's told them that it was, in fact—

Luka ducked; Victoria coming forth like a shield as she swooped down from above with her wings spread out wide—

Io wasn't fast enough. Knocked down by the force equal to that of a whack in the face, he fell on his back, a small yelp barely escaping.

A flash of grey caught him off-guard and his eyes squeezed shut on instinct.

________________________________

Vaughn noticed the bare neck of the sparrow instantly, and so his attention turned—instead—onto the eagle that Nox was already engaged with.

There was a certain grace in his movements; very much unlike a typical vulture that Luka knew of, but it was a fearful elegance—not the type of beauty that he would admire.

Victoria collided with the heavy wings of the black vulture, taking the hit for Luka when he was caught off guard.

His mind went towards the pain, but he calmed in a second to gain control—

Vaughn was not one to wait.

He took on the form of his Avian, drawing blood with Nox's talons the moment Victoria was disoriented.

Whose blood it was; he did not know—or did he particularly care.

Vaughn dived for the other predator, seeking out the Joker's charm—

But Luka was faster.

His arms that were crossed on guard lowered to bring a momentum to his body—ducking, then sliding underneath the black wings that attempted to knock him out with a powerful beat—

The eagle morphed into one without stopping, spreading his wings with a single, fierce beat that gave him an immediate height and distance.

Vaughn admitted that he was slightly impressed by the fluidity of the younger predator's movements; but he felt slightly disappointed that the other seemed to be attempting to flee.

Come, Nox.

His Avian obliged, black wings obscuring the light.

.

This all happened too fast for the poor sparrow's eyes to catch and his mind to process.

He found that his legs were numb for mere seconds or so; but fortunately the lack of disappeared as quickly as it had come—and he bolted upright to see something huge and brown flit past his field of vision.

The wind shot past in an instant, leaving a terrified Io in its wake when he realized that it was Luka. His first thought went to the eagle leaving him and Pipa behind, alone, with this...this frightening human who didn't seem like one at all—

Shriek.

Io jumped at the appalling screech that belonged to the black creature.

He scrambled back, hands covered in dirt from the earth beneath—

But Vaughn wasn't after him.

The black vulture took off after Luka; wings catching the wind that the other had left behind, using this to his advantage and gaining on him.

Reaction speed lagging behind the predators, Io hurled a late rock from the forest floor in attempt to slow the vulture down—but it dodged the projectile easily, as though it had eyes on the back of its head.

The sparrow sat on the earth, hands reaching behind to support his weight.

He panted softly; labored breathing uncontrolled.

It was only then when his mind registered the still forest in his vision—nothing was moving, and nothing changing. He started to feel like it was a dream.

A nightmare of some sort.

For Io was left behind.

He had lost—almost—everything that he thought he had gained.

A comrade;

An ally;

A...friend.

There was a moment, once again, that Io could not feel his legs. But he brushed the instance aside after its passing, and looked, instead, to the canary that he had tried so hard to protect.

His head turned slowly, and he got to his feet, stumbling towards the two canvas bags that he was left with.

The bundle, under the most fortunate circumstances, had landed on soft moss beneath the undergrowth—and it was up to Io to undo the cloth that he had wrapped Sylvester in to check his condition.

He felt the warm beat of life beneath his fingertips, and that itself served as sufficient assurance to his anxious and lonely heart.

Io thought the world in the Box to be quiet, just then.

Almost peaceful in fact.

But it was when he turned to the still frame that belonged to Pipa, and the dying life in his hands—that Io felt the true contents of his heart.

That being;

It had no contents.

Left behind;

Alone,

His Mark of Prey taken;

No friend;

No foe—

No courage,

Not so,

His heart seemed empty.

So empty—that he could barely hear its beat.

But though the boy was reduced to a darkened state, with nothing left but himself to hate;

He picked the girl up, and, stumbling, put her arms around his shoulders—lifting her up, staggering forward and losing his balance only to do it again—

He tore the cloth into two and tied the ends of one to Lyra's feet, forming a makeshift hammock that Sylvester could fit into, then, strapping the bag containing a water canteen and two energy bars across his back—

He moved forward;

With a stumble here and a stagger there, yes—

But he moved forward.

While there was nothing left but himself to hate,

Io knew, then, that there was nothing to lose.

And though this seemed, so much, a close; like a nightmare—

The sparrow was not one to let nightmares end a nightmare.

_________________________________

Luka was well aware of the deathly presence behind his back.

It felt cold—for one—but it also incited a prickling heat that took the form of condescending excitement. Victoria reminded him that it was wrong to do so, but because her heart and his were so similar a beat, she found that Luka was not the only one controlling an anticipation that swallowed his heart whole.

Disgusting. He's using our tailwind, Victoria hissed with a vengeance. I'd sink my talons into that pale neck of his any day—if not for the charm we need to protect.

Luka couldn't afford to lose his concentration, and so he caught only half of his Avian's complaint, flying high in search of someone.

With a single, strong beat of his wings, he lifted them higher into the air—leaving Vaughn and Nox far behind.

The sudden increase in distance didn't seem to catch the vulture off guard; for he merely followed behind, unfazed.

As if there was more to his plan.

This thought lodged itself into the eagle's mind and he began to think quickly. He weighed the importance of things as of now.

One of which included the strange sparrow. Well, and the sparrow's friend.

He hadn't mean to leave him behind, but now that he thought of it, the limited options stared right back at him with little to no mercy.

Luka knew what was to be done—the choice between morality and its other tempting part wasn't hard at all.

Like every other predator, he would choose the latter.

After all, wasn't that the entire purpose of this game?

This hierarchy?

Why choose morality when it was always the harder option?

Being bad—

Was always easier.

And at this thought, perhaps a crude imagination of his own or some sort of strange yearning, Luka could almost hear the sparrow ask:

What is 'bad'?

Victoria laughed at him. She said that he was helpless, and that it could have been all part of the sparrow's little trap to capture a high-ranked predator like himself.

The eagle denied.

He thought himself captivated.

_____________________________________

Slayne hadn't been in his best mood all morning.

His nerves—on edge without a soothing voice;

His body—tired from flying throughout the night in search for a troublesome sparrow who only knew how to invite danger;

His mind—exhausted from maintaining the bond between he and his Avian for flight.

Slayne was simply too unmotivated to move from his resting spot. The initial plan that he had devised was to rest during intervals, and search for Io again after doing so. It would have sped things up, he figured.

But it had been an hour for the snowy owl, and yet for him—there was no sign of recovery.

With aching muscles and a growing migraine, the Nocturne pushed himself off the ground and dragged his heavy feet towards the flaps of the tent.

His Avian greeted him with a casual hoot, knowing that he wasn't in the mood to speak.

Slayne was vulnerable, then—for his Link remained open for other predators without energy to raise his guard.

This was, perhaps, the very reason why he could hear a voice in his head.

He had heard it before; and recalled that it belonged to an eagle of some sort. Her voice was clear and distinct in his head, but he winced in annoyance because of the sharp pain in his head.

We see that you are resting. No, don't need to search for us, we are in flight. We spotted your Avian's coat a mile away—believe me, white isn't the best color in woods like these, Victoria mused calmly, skillfully hiding the fact that they were being chased. It would have aroused suspicion.

Care for an exchange?

Slayne frowned. He didn't bother to push them out of his mind; he was too tired to do so.

An exchange?

Yes, Victoria replied matter-of-factly. We heard that you were searching for someone.

Slayne scoffed.

I don't recalling allowing you into my Link. Pretty rude, don't you think?

You didn't prevent us coming into it either, Victoria pointed out cleverly. Don't worry dear you won't regret it once we tell you of the exchange. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?

Slayne despised listening to what others had to say.

There was nothing interesting—or soothing—about their words.

If we tell you where the sparrow is, will you lead him to the exit?

The snowy owl halted in his thoughts, eyes wide—then, narrowing.

His mind went first, to distraction; then, to trap.

Don't be hasty, owl. You are better than that, Victoria warned carefully. We know about your lack of direction. It's up to you to trust our words.

Slayne was silent.

Is the exchange not simple enough? We made sure it was to your advantage.

Even if we point you in the wrong direction, you will not have to keep your side of the exchange. In fact, you'd be unable to—since you'd have to find the sparrow first in order to lead him to the exit.

If you do find him, however, Victoria said quietly.

Protect him, will you?

_________________________________

The pain in the soles of his feet made each step increasingly hard and heavy, and, inevitably, the weight on his shoulders a lot more noticeable than before.

Io adjusted his grip on Pipa once more; a futile attempt at regaining his balance and making the journey any easier.

Journey?

What journey—anyway?

What was a journey without a destination?

Even if he did have one, how would he get there?

To the defeated sparrow, this could very well be the worse-case scenario he had the capacity of thinking about: less than a day's worth of basic amenities, his Mark of Prey lost, without an idea of where the exit was or how to find it—to be put simply; it seemed to Io that this could be his...

Grave.

Yes, it was indeed—looming trees that blocked out any light; branches that stretched towards a life, the elongated fingers of death; a dark, dark place with an occasional pale fog—it almost seemed clichéd.

His sense of humor would have responded; had it not been aware of the circumstances he was in.

Io could not give up here.

He would not give up now; because there was another life on his back and he had to get her out of the Box.

Movement.

His unraveled thoughts recoiled instantly, eyes wide on guard as his feet came to a frozen stop.

Io gulped; feeling his grip on Pipa slip a little when his hands turned clammy.

The forest returned his gaze with the perfection of a lie, calm, and still.

Just when the sparrow was beginning to think that it was all part of his running imagination and that perhaps he was starting to hallucinate because of the poignant fear, he heard an owl's hoot directly beside his ear.

The prey yelped with a start, jerking forward in reflex as if to avoid the sound that came from behind.

Oh dear lord—Lyra's wings froze in fright and she and Sylvester fell in a sudden drop before she regained her height. Io fell forward, his hands darting in front to prevent his face from smashing into the ground.

In the process, he had to let go of Pipa—and she rolled off his back, falling beside him in a limp and lifeless motion.

The sparrow scrambled to his feet, raising his gaze just in time to see someone standing right in front of him, looking down with tired eyes and a strange curve in his lips.

It was Slayne; Jiro's predator, master, and—for all intents and purposes—his lover.

Or so Io had inferred.

The encounter he had with the snowy owl just the day before still rooted fresh in his mind, the prey stumbled back with widened eyes.

He swallowed fear, standing over the still girl's frame as if protecting—for he knew, anyway, that she was not the one he was after.

_______________________________

Slayne could not read the emotion in Io's earthly eyes. They seemed, to him, a completely different entity as compared to the honest orbs he was so used to looking at.

This didn't come as a surprise to the Nocturne, for he had met the sparrow twice before—both encounters leaving differing impressions on his personal spectrum of judgement.

The third time—this time—he assumed, had to be different as well.

And he was right.

His mind a storm and his heart struggling to navigate with the beat of its wings; the boy seemed a little lost and scared without the identity that his Mark of Prey provided for him in this terrible excuse of a game with a disgusting sense of humor.

Slayne removed his gaze from the sparrow and turned to the girl on the ground with a frown instead.

Io adjusted his stance to come between the predator and Pipa, blocking his vision.

How determined, Slayne's Avian commented disapprovingly. Stubborn, rather.

Yes, Io was indeed.

Worlds apart from his obedient nightingale. Sincere, honest eyes—how clear they were. The voice of his heart ever so clam and soothing, like the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore—

The Nocturne caught himself.

He watched as Io tried hard to return his steely gaze, forcing himself to meet the eyes of a dangerous predator but darting away the moment they actually met.

Slayne pushed him aside gently, assessing the situation and just how he'd go about bringing the other to the exit with the discovery of a new passenger.

The girl wasn't too tall; almost of the same size and stature of the sparrow. She didn't look like she weighed much, in the very least. The Nocturne found himself planning the safest route in search for the exit that changed its position in every game, picturing the girl on his back and the sparrow by his side, assessing, sorting, weighing—

Until his gaze landed on the charm that was still attached to her choker.

The Ace.

The Ace—

Wasn't that Dimitri's number?

Slayne was one to make judgements in the most rational, win-win manner that benefitted the majority.

Though of course; by doing so, one would always leave the minority out—ah, that was the unseen problem that we all love to push aside.

He sent his Avian to the sky with a call that resonated across the Box; and soon, the falcon would come flying.

Meanwhile, the Nocturne fished in his pockets for some sort of writing medium.

They were empty—all but one.

Slayne pulled out something from his back pocket; a paper crane that Jiro had made him the night before as an apology, and as a charm that would bring luck.

His face softened at the thought of his prey sitting quietly in his room, occupied by origami. Glancing down at the yellow crane, he began to unfold the piece of art.

For the moment, it would have to do.

__________________________________

I have called for the Ace of Hearts. He will bring your friend to the exit safely.

The sparrow scanned the words scribbled on some tiny, crumpled up note that had the most obvious fold lines.

Io did not know what to make of this.

This—trade, as it seemed.

A transaction?

Such foreign words they were to a village boy who knew only of helping and neighbors—

The snowy owl snapped his fingers before Io's eyes, gaining his attention with a frown. He raised a brow, as if asking if there was some sort of problem.

Io's eyes went to the wooden pencil in Slayne's hand, and the predator got his message.

He passed it to him.

Will she be okay? What will they do to her?

Slayne shook his head, retrieving the pencil.

The only danger is if the other Aces—Spades and Diamonds—team up to retrieve her, but that's unlikely since dealing with a falcon will just be disadvantageous.

He didn't quite answer the sparrow's question. How could he? For there was no answer.

No one could predict how things would turn out, no matter how hard they tried or how many the possibilities they calculated.

And of course—

No one knew what a predator would do to their prey.

Even if they did—

They wouldn't say.

I'm sorry

Io's words were tiny.

They were unkempt; and the lack of even lettering only reflected the tremble in his fingers.

He was not like Jiro at all. Jiro's penmanship was beautiful beyond words and yet could only be seen through words themselves—

The eagle sent me.

Slayne wrote.

Upon reading these words, the prey's eyes widened with a reflective light—as if it was a compass that had found its North.

He glanced up at the Nocturne, a weak smile with tired eyes;

And Slayne couldn't help but wonder, yet again—

Whether it was possible for Preys and Predators to be friends.

_________________________________

A/N:

Ahhh! Next week is Valentine's Day and I'll try not to ruin it with fear and philosophical questions!! Hahahahaha although chocolates are always a good thing. I love all kinds of chocolate @.@ Don't you?

So apparently I miss Jiro huehue so I had to drop some of his elements into this chapter. I was so touched to see that you guys were attached to Pipa, because I thought some of ya'll didn't like her >_< I LOVE HER THO okay bye im annoying

-Cuppiecake.