The tunnel opened up under Poeias Claudy's hive, a lucky break that he had found an outcrop that extended so far, and with a little extra digging now rested under his hive, in his basement, allowing for secret entry. Poe signaled to the rest of his team to stay behind, not wanting to put them in any undue danger, even though the task was simple. Poe was going to simply retrieve some items that he'd abandoned from his hive, and then bring the woolbeasts back. They would bring it all to the swamp where they could live happily. Like a
rescue, like he and Maneki said back at the Cinderglow Festival. They would wait here unless something came up and he needed help. He and Lanata could go alone.
Poe entered the basement with his lusus, pushing up on the boards that made the floor, moving them aside. A gaping hole into the tunnel was left, and the smell of earth and tunnel air was replaced with a new smell. A distinct smell of rot, of stale, undisturbed air and dust motes. He gagged, and realized there was food left behind that had rotted in his absence, and all sorts of nasty weird smells from things he had had stored down here. The greenblood covered his mouth, and wondered if the flock was okay. It'd been a while but... it was best if he left the basement, rather than dwell on that, he decided.
Quickly going up the stairs, for the first time in almost a whole sweep, Poe was back in his hive. He put a hand on Lanata's side, where she wasn't covered in saddlebags. He was just here to retrieve some items, and get the woolbeasts, his flock. He walked to his respiteblock, deciding to start on one end of his hive and work his way to the other, picking up stuff along the way. In his block, he picked up his darts, wiping the dust off on his pants and putting them in his pockets alongside the artifact darts he recently acquired. Poe took the dartboard and put it in his lusus's bag.
"Well, now I can show more trolls the game," he whispered to her with a smile. He picked up some other random items from his block, trinkets he won from booths in the past and items he had some sentimental attachment to. It wasn't really the best thing, something they needed for the swamp, but he didn't want to just leave them behind. Besides, he rationalized, they were all rather small. Pens, a bandana, a coupon for a defunct shop, an iron badge.
On his desk he found his toolbox, and Poe went through it, relieved to find that the tools had not rusted and had stayed rather sharp. He picked out the important ones, his hammer and wrench and the wire saw, and put them in Lanata's bags along with some nails and other things. Useful. In his drawers, he pulled out an insect-eaten sweater. With a grimace, Poe threw it back down, and rummaged for useful cloth. Stuff they would need, that they could use. Finding some, he rolled it up and tied it in place on Lanata. He left his block, and saw one of the hallway mirrors he had used to navigate his hive. He pulled it off the wall, and held it under his horns, enjoying the way he could use it to see, just like he used to when he lived here. He put it in his other pocket. He didn’t need to take all of them, just a few would do. He went into his ablution block, and took down the first aid kid and added it to the other things he’d gathered. It wasn’t much in the long run, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to take and add a small amount of supplies rather than none. Lastly, he went to the nutritionblock, avoiding the thermal hull. It would only have horrifying things inside. The pantry, on the other hand, might still have canned goods that weren’t expired.
The windows are broken, however. Poe doesn’t like how many things have honestly
changed about his hive despite leaving it, in his mind it had always been the same when he returned. A still memory, somehow continuing on untouched without him. But things are broken inexplicably, and he hasn’t seen or heard the gerbils at all. They were probably gone. And his hive felt less and less like a place he had lived in and more like someplace dangerous and unknown. Suddenly on edge, he put the cans he was holding away, and pressed up against his lusus. Poe was considering now calling for help, abandoning this mission and leaving. This wasn’t
supposed to be how this went, he thought, angry tears threatening to form.
Poe paused suddenly, realizing something was off. He should have heard something, and not once this whole time in his hive did he hear the sound of any of the woolbeasts. He ran to the broken window and looked out, carefully scanning the view in his mirrors. In the field, there’s not a single woolbeast like there should have been. Instead, what he saw was a few corpses, tufts of white among the green and blues of the grasses, bones and rotting flesh. Poe pulled back, gagging again, his clenched hands pressed against his mouth to keep himself from throwing up. He could hear Lanata bleating, distressed.
Oh no, little lamb… she said.
My sisters… Poe squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like an idiot. Of course he should have expected this, and he almost knew. There was no way, even with all of the provisions set up, that they could have survived or prospered in his absence. Abandoning them was a death sentence, and his own reluctance and fear to return to his hive, knowing he was marked and tracked by the imperial government and only gaining the nerve when his name was cleared… he was a coward. And now the woolbeasts were dead. Even so, he’d foolishly hoped that things would work out, that it would be like the fantasies he shared with his friend. With a start, Poe realized even more horrifyingly that the corpses weren’t just sheep that had dropped dead from lack of care, but were eviscerated and torn apart, eaten alive by something. Because Poe wasn’t there to protect them. The other woolbeasts… they seemed to have just vanished completely. A weak bleating sounded in the distance, and Lanata nosed Poe, forcing him to open his eyes.
The barn, little lamb… Maybe there’s some survivors there, she insisted, an edge of desperation in her voice.
A howl carried over the wind of the plains, and Poe’s blood ran cold. It was all coming back to him, the way he lost his hand before to the howlbeast that hunted him and his flock several sweeps ago, and the same panic he had felt then. His breathing became shallow and he crouched on the floor of his nutritionblock, starting to panic. He had to kill it. The howlbeast was back, of course it was back. It was eating his flock, and it would come to kill Lanata and him, too. He
had to kill it or else it would get him, his lusus, his friends. He was so tired of being hunted. He stood up from the floor, bracing himself against a counter. Hunted by this howlbeast, by his brightmares, his own cowardice, and by the government too.
He just had to kill it first. Poe rummaged through Lanata’s bags, and pulled out the wire saw. He remembered all the times other trolls commented on his horns, how he should just remove them and even some of their offers to do it. That blueblood at the military meet up, right before he switched sides, who said he could even keep some if he just sawed in the right spot. Muerte, who scoffed at him and waved his bone saw menacingly.
Why don’t you cut them off? Concern and derision in their voices. The words rang in his spongeclots even now. They were confused by his hesitance and refusals, because surely his life would be easier if he had just… taken them off. But he was afraid, as always.
A coward. Afraid of what he might see or feel if he started cutting off more parts of his body, if he changed the way he was and the way things had simply always been.
Poe felt along the top of his left horn. There was a thin fracture there from the cave battle, from when the explosion knocked his head into a wall. It was close enough to the base that it would free his eyes. He put the saw in the groove and started to saw into his horn. He clamped his robotic hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming as he slowly sawed through his horn. No anesthetic, like he would have given the woolbeasts if he were dehorning them. His nerves were still alive and the pain was throbbing and grinding directly into his head. It hurt so
bad. The greenblood was crying now, but he knew he had to do this and push through. His stupid, awful horns were holding him back, he couldn’t fight if he couldn’t see. This was what caused him to almost lose his lusus last time, and cost him his hand. Being unable to see and react properly. He was not going to let that happen again.
Shakily, Poe removed his hand from his mouth and reached for the horn now that it was cut through almost all the way. The blade would press up against his face and head when he moved it, reminding him to be careful. He steadied it with his other hand and finished cutting through, his head feeling strangely light, staring blankly at the curled orange horn held in his hand. It was so weird and brightly colored. Poe mechanically placed it in his bags, unsure what else to do with it. The other horn awaited him still, and he felt more determined to finish this as quickly as he could.
There was no groove for Poe to put the saw in on this horn, so he resigned himself to just try to get it over with. He put the saw on his horn and began to pull it back and forth, faster and faster in short movements, gritting his teeth against the awful grinding. I can do this, he thought. I can protect my lusus and kill this howlbeast. Howls pierced the air again and Poe felt his pumpbiscuit quicken as he started sawing harder, faster. He had to do it
quickly. The greenblood choked back his sobs and tried to keep his hand steady as he managed to saw his way through his other horn. It clattered to the ground with a hollow sound, and Poe picked it up. He shoved it into the bags with the other one, as he dug out his weapon - the same shears he would have used to take care of his woolbeasts. A sharp bladed weapon, and now he had his darts artifact too. He pulled one out of his pocket and clenched his hand around it. It was supposed to be strong.
He was supposed to be strong. Would it be enough?
“Lanata, you need to stay here. I can track the howlbeast on my own,” he said, wrapping his arms around her neck. He breathed in and closed his eyes, wiping his face against her soft wool.
Are you sure, sweet lamb? You've done so much already... He nodded fiercely, certain. Poe wouldn’t let her get hurt.
When he pulled away, he felt different. Not just physically, although he did feel lighter, dizzy and sick. He felt the the adrenaline pumping through his body, the sharp focus of everything around him, the intent he needed to finish this. It overcame him and consumed his thoughts, a hyper-fixation, he had to find and kill this howlbeast that has haunted and stalked him for sweeps.
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Poe left his hive, going past his fences and beyond his hive’s territory into the plains where the howlbeast resided. He could hear its howls, and used the sound to hunt it down, approaching closer and closer to the creature. It seemed all too easy to track it now, noting the paw prints left behind in the dirt and the rustling of grasses just ahead of him. The greenblood gripped his weapon tightly, and after what felt like much too long tracking it, he saw it. Just ahead, its shaggy white coat, head bent low, turned away from him. It hadn’t noticed him yet, and Poe knew he had to use this to his advantage. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out one of his artifacts. He had always hoped as a child that he could use it as a weapon… He pulled his arm back, and threw the dart at the beast, watching it pierce the beast’s side.
It turned sharply on Poe, growling menacingly. He could see its face, a scar under its eye from when he last saw it, where he had attacked it, plunging his shears into its head to get away as a child. The same howlbeast that took his hand, after all this time. He could finally get revenge, and that feeling hung heavy in his body. Poe clenched his fists, he could see so much fine detail he’d never noticed before, the blood of his woolbeasts on its mouth, unkempt fur, the dirt on its paws. How many of his flock did it kill without him there to protect them, while he was off having childish adventures in the swamp? He hated himself for letting it get to this point.
It launched itself towards him, but he was ready. His shears poised, sharp and deadly in his grasp. He swung it in an arc, cutting it across the side. The howlbeast was still a bit taller than him, a muscled beast that was made for eating woolbeasts, and Poe knew he was smaller, weaker. But, the greenblood was also clever and strong in ways a mindless beast couldn’t be, and he’d faced it before and survived. It swiped at him, thick claws aimed at him, and Poe put up his arm defensively to take the brunt of the attack, sucking in a sharp breath as the claws dig into his upper arm, tearing his clothes.
A real fight really was different after all, he couldn’t help but think. Different than his childish attacks supporting his lusus, or sparring with Byakko and his friends at the swamp. He had learned a lot, but the stark difference between a creature that he felt mutual hatred for and an older troll pushing him away when he attacked was almost staggering. Even so, he was grateful for the training, fighting beside his friends and tiring out Byakko with the blunt side of his shears. He couldn’t ask for their help now, not in fighting his own personal battles, outside of his hive where he could still be watched. Poe hoped they would forgive him.
He jumped toward the howlbeast, attacking its muzzle again, sliding the sharp end of the shears down the soft flesh of its cheeks. It retaliated harshly, swiping claws against the greenblood’s face, huffs of hot air coming from the growling maw. Poe leaned forward and jammed his shears into the howlbeast’s jaw, pulling it back out with a grunt as the beast recoiled in pain.
Poe took the chance to back away, putting some distance between him and the howlbeast. If he remained a safe distance he would be just out of reach of the claws and jaw of this massive creature. He crouched in the grass, taking small steps backwards. However, the howlbeast is faster than him. He needed to be faster, and he tried to avoid it, ducked behind stones and hidden among grasses, out of the way, momentarily safe. His face bled, his head ached, and his arms stung, but he hardly noticed, only able to focus on his enemy. Nothing else mattered. The details of the howlbeast, its muzzle slightly tinged with blood, skulking and sniffing and looking for him.
It paused and from this distance even, Poe saw its nose shift and tremble slightly, a telltale sign of it having located him. It crouched low, haunches raised. There was nowhere to go, he thought. He couldn’t hide, and he couldn’t run. All that was left was to fight.
He took another step back, and he realized immediately that something was wrong.
A sickening crunch, the sound of metal on flesh and an all too familiar snapping noise. A metal steel-toothed trap, one he himself had set so many sweeps ago after fighting this howlbeast the last time, had closed itself around his leg just below the knee. It took him a second or two to process before the pain reached him. He inhaled sharply, swallowing a cry. He pulled uselessly on his leg, desperately hoping and willing it to somehow slip out of the trap before --
The howlbeast pounced on him immediately, and Poe was trapped. He panicked, unable to think straight or focus for a moment, as the howlbeast clawed his face, hooked into his skin, leaving three painful streaks through his left eye, leaving Poe blinded again momentarily. He could feel the warm heat of his mid-tone blood welling up and sliding down his face, into his mouth and nose. Another swipe, another attack, and then another. His shirt was torn open as the beast clawed him, heat on his chest because he’s been sliced through his clothes. He cringed, doing the best he could to merely defend himself from the towering beast. Hot breath and gnashing jaws were in his face, threatened to kill him. He had to kill it
first. Poe slashed and stabbed the howlbeast with his shears, wildly flailing and jerking, fighting half-blind through the pain. He thrusted his shears into any part of its body he could reach, saw the colored blood leak out of it. He could smell the rot from its mouth and he just knows. This howlbeast has been eating all of his woolbeasts.
I can’t forgive it, he thought, angry tears forming.
“I’m not giving up!”With newfound anger and determination, Poe stabbed the beast. Over and over again he slammed the shears into its chest as it towers above him, until the shears began to slip from his hands, coated in blood (his blood or not, he wasn’t sure anymore). There was blood in his eyes and mouth, and he breathed heavily. The howlbeast whimpered, and let out a raspy death rattle before it collapsed on top on Poeias. With a grunt, he pushed it off and stared blankly at the pale corpse in front of him.
He remembered the steel trap around his leg and gasped as the pain finally caught up to him, processing now that the fight was over and his adrenaline was decreasing. He screamed in pain as he tried to pull it off again, grasping at the teeth to pry it apart, pulling at the chain to get it out of the ground. If he could just get it out, or free it from the ground, he could get to his hive. But it was a trap he set, and he knew the chain was buried deep, and would not leave the ground just from pulling.
“I built it to capture the howlbeast, after all," he murmured to himself. He feels around the edges, knowing there should be a spring he could depress to make the trap open up, or perhaps if he could push enough weight onto it to force it to release him… He coughed and seized at the pain, feeling the lightheadedness and seeping blood on his face again. It was in his mouth and throat, plugging up his sniffnode, like he couldn’t breathe, and he realized now he was quickly losing the feeling of pain in his leg, being replaced with a strange numbness. If he could just get to his hive, he could get the tools he needed to open the trap, and he couldn’t stop ruminating on that thought.
Poe gripped his shears in his hands and slammed them into the chain with as much force as he could muster. With a bit of effort, he managed to break the chain, at least freeing him from the ground. His hands were shaking when he looked, pointedly avoiding gazing at his leg.
“I-if I can just get back to my hive…” he wasn’t sure exactly
what he would do there, how that would help, but surely it would be better than dying out here in the field, caught in his own trap. He glanced over at his hive, mentally prepared to crawl the several grubsnuggles distance when he saw it. His lusus, running towards him, bleating and calling for him.
He reached out for her, glad to see his lusus even though he had told her to stay behind. Vaguely, he wondered if she had followed him or merely heard his screaming and come for him. Either way, he was happy to see her.
“Lanata,” he said weakly, his voice strange sounding. Too thick, languid in an unnatural way, heavy with emotion. He closed his eyes, tired, and feels his lusus pressed against him, her wool comfortingly soft. She cooed to him, talking.
It’ll be all right little lamb, you’ll be fine. Did you know? I found a few of my sisters in the barn, my lamb. They’re safely waiting in the tunnel for you, Poe. She nosed him gently.
You’re badly hurt, my lamb. We need to go. Climb onto my back, I’ll carry you. Poe nodded after a brief hesitation, ripping his sweater off to cover his leg. He shuddered a bit at the action, trying to avoid looking at it. It wasn't safe, he didn’t want to spill blood everywhere and risk being tracked. He hefted himself onto his mother, pulling the howlbeast corpse with him, covering themselves with it.
“W-we need a disguise… or something…” he mumbled. In truth, Poe had several reasons he wanted to take it with him. He needed proof it was over, and perhaps it could be useful… like him.
He faded in and out of consciousness, gripping tightly to Lanata and the howlbeast’s corpse until he realized they were back in the basement of his hive, entering the tunnels. The greenblood called out to his crew, relaying what happened and his need to return immediately.
“I got everything I need here, and… I need to see Muerte. H-he’ll know to what to do,” he said, wiping some of the blood from his face gently, staring at the green on his hand. He already knew his leg wouldn’t be salvageable, likely mangled beyond all hope, but the doctor knew how to make robotics and… wouldn’t be afraid to get rid of it. Poe let himself rest on his lusus’ back as they returned, lulled gently by the easy rocking of her body and her soft words, his arms around her neck, head against hers.. Normally, he wouldn’t have felt so comfortable riding his mother like this, but… desperate times called for desperate measures. He knew Lanata wouldn’t hold it against him for needing to be carried like this.
My lamb, don’t worry. Mama’s here.Poeias Claudy lost consciousness at last.
Hivestuck
rest in peace
almost 4k words im getting worse at this
