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Chapter 4
Deep Down
Pitch. Black. Darkness. Not even the light of the aurora nor the moon shined down into the depths of the pit. The only light which dispelled the dark were the scattered remains of Free’s wings, which, due to their rushed formation, did not withstand the fall.
Free himself, however, was still functional—for the most part, rising from the cold floor to see Frost next to him, their eyes faint and flickering as they cradled nothing in their arms.
“Frost, you are just—” he stopped himself, instead letting out a sigh before turning Frost over to get a better look at their injuries.
At first, the wounds seemed minor, a surprise considering the brutality of Eight’s strikes, but then Free saw his light glint off Frost’s skull—coal black coolant covered it completely, spilling down from the top of their head and onto their jacket, tinting it a dark crimson red.
Free’s eye pinned, “W-We need to get back to the Camper and quick—but maybe I have something,” he rummaged around in his bag, trying to find anything that could stop the bleeding.
“Where is the kid?” Frost suddenly stood up, although still slowly, one leg at a time.
“Lay back down you’re bleeding!” Free commanded, but Frost seemed to ignore him, walking into the darkness beyond his light. Concerned, Free followed behind, bewildered by how Frost could even stand.
Frost stopped after only a few steps, turning their head to a pile of metal sheets and trash bags that had fallen in with them. Although faint, within the pile something emitted a honey-colored light which faded in and out with the rhythm of slow breaths.
Stepping lightly, but not too lightly to be silent, Frost walked to the glow then gently moved the sheets aside. Revealing that behind it was the creature—no, child, with their tail raised in front—hiding behind it like a shield, and their ears pointed back. Backed into the wall—the child trembled as they stared at the other two, eyes darting back and forth from one to the other, but never making direct eye contact.
“Who are you?” Free said in an unintentionally harsh tone, “The faster you answer, the faster we get out of here, alright?”
The child did not answer, only receding further into the wall with a blank expression on their face.
“Free,” Frost whispered as they gently pushed him back, “Please, look for a way out.”
“You know, we’d already be in orbit if you didn’t get us into this mess,” Free said, starring daggers at Frost… Only to see that upon their face was a weak smile, not a cocky or demeaning one, but rather, a faintly kind one.
Without a word, Free walked away, to find a way out of this mess.
Frost covered their wounds with the fluff of their jacket before crouching down to the child’s height. Upon a closer look, the child was covered in shallow scratches and mild bruises, especially near their tail. It seemed they had endured much more than just the fall and Eight’s strike. “Hello, my name is Frost, can you tell me your name?”
The child struggled to speak, letting out distorted whispers and drones, before saying a single word, “…Foxx,” static underlined his weak fuzzy voice.
“Pleased to meet you, Foxx,” a small droplet of coolant poured down Frost’s head, which they quickly wiped away, “Now, I need you to listen carefully.”
Foxx slightly lowered his tail then tilted his head sideways.
“We are in quite the predicament, and we need to work together to escape. Would you please, if you are able, come out of there. I know it is hard to trust someone you just met, but I have no intention in leaving you behind.”
“…Ok,” Foxx said as he emerged out of the pile, floating ever so slightly above the ground.
Free returned with a bundle of pipes and rebar in his arms, “We’re around two floors down and since there’s no way we’re breaking down these walls, our only option is to climb up.” He picked up a fragment of his wings and threw it up high, illuminating the upper part of the pit and showing its smooth walls were riddled with small cracks just big enough to latch onto. “These will help,” he tossed the bundle onto the ground.
“Foxx, I can carry you, if need be,” Frost said.
Free side-eyed Frost, “You can barely carry yourself. If Foxx can parry that crazy oldie, he can climb just fine,” he then looked at Foxx, “How’d you even do that anyway?”
Foxx stopped hovering, his paws making a click-click as they hit the ground. He then pondered for a moment before lifting himself back up and floating over to a sheet of cardboard that was lying flat on the floor.
Angling his head upwards to the sky and positioning the back of his tail below him like a spring, sparks of electricity flowed from his head to his tail to the cardboard.
Then—Whoosh, Foxx launched himself upwards, gracefully landing on the pit’s edge before floating back down like a feather—small streams of electricity arcing through the air like his flowing scarf—and making no sound when he landed.
“…See, told you he has it covered,” Free gave a double thumbs up as he began scaling the walls but before he climbed too far, he looked back at Frost and extended his hand, “Need help?”
“I suppose,” Frost answered as they grabbed his hand and turned to Foxx, “Please, still follow our lead.”
“Ok.”
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