[Shrike]

Shrike didn’t stick around for what she believed was the forecast of Saboro’s inevitable finish. As the rolling waves of fog began blotting out the sky, the Nightwalker snapped up her son in a firm grasp and vanished in the wake of Saboro’s destruction.

The woman grew spikes and jagged edges and forced the ideal that she was above abandonment. And as they pressed on, her eyes grew hard, heart adopting a similar concrete and she told herself that she didn’t birth failures. They were alive somewhere, somehow. With Kappa, strong and capable; though her heart twanged painfully for his company. With Croatoan, or Nereid, or all by themselves where they would be forced to grow up too soon, but in exchange they would have their life and the skills it took to survive. 

Just like their mom. 

Like mother dearest who was last seen on the run; fleeing with only one of four children and no partner or sibling because her life was invaluable and she had a keen eye for seeing trouble before it struck. Shrike was a survivor, and though her mind shrieked with her betrayal, she forged on. Saboro would know her loyalty no longer.

With a child in tow, her pace would gradually slow until it came to an eventual stop in the green lands of Gemini. Steel, for once, was quiet on their journey; looking far too forlorn for a three month old child, though his silence wasn’t unappreciated. Later, she would try to explain. Later, they would move on together, because now together was all they had. But for now they both sat solemnly on foreign soil. 

Shrike peered bleakly into the territory; all parts of her body seemingly weighed down by the same ball chains and anchors. She didn’t even have the strength to speak; clutching the small child between her front legs, content to languish forever upon their border unless someone else should arrive.