Chapter 262: Three Portions
Martin stared at Alexandra’s final message until the words began to blur.
Kumoe was alive. The Beastslayer was dead, and the zone had collapsed. Alexandra had given him their location, promised they were on their way back, and even remembered to demand an unreasonable meal for all three heads.
She had answered everything except the question he had not yet asked.
Was she all right too?
[Emperoar: Stop walking. I’m coming to you.]
He closed the window and ran.
The delayed emergency ping had reached him near one of the academy roads. The route toward the water-gathering tower began close by, yet it had never looked so long.
His armor dragged against every stride. Without slowing, Martin dismissed the heaviest pieces into his inventory, and the moment the weight vanished, he broke into a sprint.
"Martin?"
NukEncore called from behind him. He had passed her near the academy gate without even noticing.
"Where are you going?" she shouted, hurrying after him. "Wait!"
Martin glanced over his shoulder. Confusion had already turned to concern on her face.
"Kumoe almost died."
Her golden eyes widened.
Martin faced the road again and kept running. He never heard her answer, but another pair of footsteps began splashing through the mud a few seconds later.
NukEncore could not keep his pace for the entire distance. He knew that, but right now, all he could think about was Alexandra’s message and the word nearly. He needed to see both of them with his own eyes.
The road curved through rain-soaked fields and scattered trees. Endless Rain lived up to its name, though the downpour had settled into a steady drizzle. Mud clung to Martin’s boots, and water slipped into his eyes as he ran.
The water-gathering tower appeared beyond the next rise. Narrow channels surrounded it, catching the rain and carrying it back toward the academy. The crimson boundary was gone. No Beastslayer Stakes remained, and nothing on the road suggested another fight had begun.
Martin searched ahead until three white heads rose over the slope.
The right head spotted him first. Her ears snapped forward, and her orange eyes locked onto him. The curious head followed her gaze a heartbeat later.
Kumoe barked.
The sound carried cleanly through the rain.
"Kumoe!"
Martin barely had time to brace himself before she charged.
Her rear leg had healed enough to support her, though she still favored it slightly. Somehow, the middle head looked half-asleep even while they ran, bobbing between her sisters as the curious one barked again. The right head tried to preserve some dignity during the sprint and failed completely.
Martin opened his arms.
Kumoe crashed into his chest hard enough to drive him backward. His boots slid through the mud before one knee struck the road, and all three heads crowded him at once.
The curious head covered his face in wet licks. The middle pushed sleepily beneath his chin, while the right pressed her forehead against his shoulder and stayed there, pretending her greeting was the restrained one.
Martin wrapped both arms around their necks.
"You’re here," he breathed.
Kumoe’s three tails swept across the road and flung mud in every direction.
Martin buried one hand in the thick fur around her middle neck and used the other to inspect every place he could reach. His fingers found the newly healed line across her shoulder, then moved down toward her injured rear leg. Blood still darkened the wet fur, but the flesh beneath it had closed.
The curious head tried to lick his ear.
"Hold still."
She ignored him.
Martin checked the right head and then the middle, although neither showed an obvious injury. He ran his hands over all three muzzles, their necks and shoulders, and the thick fur across their chests.
The right head tolerated the inspection for several seconds before glancing toward the road behind him.
No food had appeared.
"I came first," Martin told her. "The unreasonable meal comes after I make sure you’re actually alive."
She stared at him.
"Yes, all three portions."
The severe line of her muzzle softened by such a tiny amount that anyone else would have missed it.
Martin did not.
A quiet laugh came from farther up the road.
"I warned you she would remember."
Martin looked up and found Alexandra standing several paces away.
She had dismissed her swords, but the rest of her wolf-themed armor remained equipped. One side had been cut open, exposing the dark layer beneath it, and scratches crossed the silver fang details. Mud stained her boots and lower legs. Damp white hair clung to her cheeks, with several strands caught against a raised edge of her armor.
Her chin was lifted at precisely the angle she used for interviews and difficult scenes. Her shoulders were square, her breathing measured, and not one part of her face admitted that she had nearly lost Kumoe less than an hour ago.
Martin had watched her act frightened during the battle.
Now she was performing recovery.
"Come here," he said.
Alexandra raised one eyebrow. "What a commanding reunion."
"Alex."
The smile left her mouth.
She took one step, and her knee almost gave out.
Martin moved before she could correct it. He rose from the mud with one arm still around Kumoe and caught Alexandra by the waist with the other.
Her hand closed around his shoulder on instinct.
For a moment, all of them stood tangled together in the middle of the road. Kumoe remained pressed against Martin’s chest while Alexandra leaned into his side, trying to regain her footing without admitting she needed him to hold her up.
"I can walk," she murmured.
Martin tightened his arm around her. "I didn’t ask whether you could."
Alexandra looked at him.
The answer she had prepared never came. She slipped one arm around his back and buried her other hand in Kumoe’s wet fur. The curious head immediately shoved her muzzle between them, while the middle settled against Alexandra’s chest with a tired sound. The right remained against Martin’s shoulder.
Alexandra lowered her face. One tremor passed through her body, then another followed before she could suppress it.
Martin tightened his arms around both of them.
Rain tapped against their armor and soaked into the exposed fabric beneath it. None of them moved.