The Stingray sped over the treetops of the jungle in Jasmidian's interior. Resembling a green carpet, the thick vegetation clung together beneath the ship, affording no places to land. If only the carpet were a little more uniform, the vessel could have landed right atop it. 

Inside, Aaron glanced over at Sila in the copilot's seat. "We're getting close." he said, "How about a heat scan?" 

The robot pressed a button. After a whirring noise filled the cabin, it shook its head. "Too many signatures." 

Aaron frowned. "How's that?" 

"Animals intercepting beams." 

With a sigh, the sandy-haired man scratched his head. Sometimes, even three words wasn't enough for the robot to convey its intended meaning. "You mean there're so many animals in the treetops that it keeps the beams from even reaching the ground?" 

Sila nodded. "Yes." 

"Just wonderful." he muttered. After making sure no obstacles lay ahead, he twisted his body to eye Wendy and Hannah in the back seats. "I'm not finding any good landing spots. It looks like we'll have to make a drop." 

Their reactions proved as great a contrast as night and day. Wendy rolled her eyes and unbuckled her seatbelt, while Hannah smiled and flashed Aaron a thumbs-up. 

"So, you're staying up here again, then?" Wendy asked. 

Aaron shook his head. "No way. I'm tired of sitting." he tapped Sila's shoulder. "You can juggle, right?" 

"Not indefinitely." 

"Okay, well, I'll juggle for a sec. You see if any of those dudes in the back know a thing about flying." 

Sila rose to its feet and pivoted on its metal foot. "I'll be back." 

Aaron turned the wheel to center before rising from his seat and sliding over to the copilot's chair. He sat there for a few seconds and tapped buttons before heading back to his original spot. Sila returned in no time. 

"I found someone." 

Aaron nodded and looked up to see a wide-eyed young man standing behind Sila. He sported ruffled black hair and a smile perched on thin lips. The brawny pilot patted the man on the shoulder and gave up his seat. 

Aaron, Wendy, and Hannah made their way out of the cockpit after saying farewells to Sila. Aaron and Hannah retrieved parachutes and strapped them to their bodies while Wendy waited with crossed arms. Then they descended to the landing area just inside the doors. Fifteen Kemarian soldiers waited there, and after a brief explanation from Aaron, they scrambled up the ladders to retrieve parachutes of their own. 

After everybody had finished buckling them on, they snatched up their weapons. Aaron armed himself with nothing but a pair of green gauntlets covered in an array of flashing lights. Hannah held a hefty rectangular gun of a violet hue in her hands, with a shotgun strapped to her back and a full ammo belt tightened around her hips. Wendy wore her armored suit, with her bow clipped to a hook on her back and arrows strapped above it, and the Kemarian men all armed themselves with pistols or machine guns. 

Aaron opened the door, and in quick succession, the eighteen gliders leapt down. He smirked to himself, satisfied at the silence of the Stingray's thrusters above them. The only sound was the rustling of the parachutes above. As they descended farther, however, the calls of the animals below filled the atmosphere. Even if it weren't for those silent thrusters, he mused, I still think that blanket of noise would've been enough to conceal us. 

Wendy touched down first, as her rocket boots afforded her greater control of her fall. The first branch she landed on snapped beneath her weight, so she boosted upwards and found another perch. 

Aaron landed next. His branch bowed at first under his weight, but then bounced back up. Carefully planting his feet and rising to a full stand, he unbuckled the parachute. After he tossed it aside, he watched and waited as Hannah and the rest of his comrades touched down. 

After all had landed, Wendy cleared her throat. "That went bloody well." 

Aaron nodded. "Surprisingly so." 

"So, I figure I'll head down first so I can catch any of you if you fall." 

"Great idea!" Hannah affirmed. 

Wendy parted two branches aside to peek down. Then she glanced up at Aaron. "Don't try to fall, though. You must weigh a bloody ton." 

Aaron chuckled heartily. "I'll do my best." 

With that, the armored Danlashian disappeared underneath the leafy canopy. Aaron sighed and set himself to the task of safely descending. He carefully bent his knees. From the crouch, he moved to hug the branch with his body, and traveling around the bough, he hung from it like a sloth. 

With his hanging vantage point, Aaron turned his head to view the jungle below him. He quickly realized he hadn't yet penetrated the canopy. A network of branches thick and thin, wrapped in slick vines and coated in parts with feces lay below. He grimaced. 

At least falling's gonna be a hard matter, with so much to hit on the way. he told himself. With a sigh, he swung down onto a thick branch closer to the trunk, supported himself with a hand on the central bole, and contemplated his descent. 

******************** 

Brant's brow glistened with sweat. The humidity of the jungle itself helped matters none. He stumbled down the winding hidden path descending into the deep gorge, nearly losing his balance as he did so. His cuffed hands were useless for the task of balancing. The Alcontean general marching behind him solved the problem with a rough tap on the arm with the muzzle of his gun. 

Brant gasped when the metal weapon met his back. Both frustrated and terrified, he obliged his captor and sped his pace as much as he dared. A quick glance over the side of the cliff nearly caused him to empty the minimal contents of his stomach onto the ground. 

"Don't feel so godly now, do ya, honey?" the general mocked behind him. 

The only reaction Brant spared was a glare. Even then, he never took the effort to turn his head and display the disapproval. With a hard swallow, he continued on. 

Two hours passed in the same way. The narrow path continued snaking down the gorge, growing steeper as it went. Brant's fear had now lasted so long that it had become numbing. The fact he had submitted himself to his cruel fate failed to help matters in the slightest. 

Finally, the path leveled out and broadened. Brant eyed the mile-high cliff face above and sighed. As the path grew wider, the Alconteans shifted from single file to a more informal walk, each man going at his own pace, as long as he kept behind the general. 

Brant spotted Track in his peripheral vision, head hung low and hair dripping. Whether the droplets were sweat or condensed humidity, Brant couldn't tell. The Innutukian's well-structured face had been marred by bruises and a slash. He hadn't given in to their capture easily. 

Track lifted his head and met Brant's gaze. His somber hazel eyes lacked the confidence usually characterizing the man. His mouth twitched, but Brant could only guess if the motion was voluntary or not, as his torn lips had taken quite a beating. 

The Alcontean general gripped Brant's arm tightly as they entered the teeming throng of his comrades. He strolled through their midst with a casual ease Brant wished his heart could imitate. Men on either side jeered and pointed dirty fingers at the captives, their victorious noises echoing off the walls of the gorge. 

At last, they came to a sizable clearing in the men, generally circular in shape. Brant's captor shoved him to his knees in the middle, as did the men holding his comrades. The sight of General Trackenkaken on his knees in the mud, head hung and scabbed brow dripping, appeared just the type that would be printed on the cover of a Ferangian tragedy. 

Perhaps it will be. Brant thought, Only it'll be a history book, not fiction. 

The Alconteans carelessly tossed the insurgents' weapons into a pile on the ground. Brant watched his weapon-printing gloves join the pile of machine guns, soon buried by Keira's collapsible sniper rifle, her grapple gun, and Ace's jacket. The dark-skinned man appeared terribly vulnerable outside of the protective coat. He kept a brave face, but Brant knew his heart was likely getting a workout too. 

Brant watched as the horde of soldiers parted in one spot, and through the clearing strolled a robust man with combed blond hair and a matching beard. Over each of the man's broad shoulders peeked an ornamented sword hilt, and in addition to those blades, he possessed myriads more in daggers. The knives lined his legs like pants, so numerous in number that they concealed his legwear entirely. As if to be gratuitous, a sheath lay strapped to each of his arms at the bicep, inhabited by a dagger each. 

Brant's throat tightened again. He recognized the man all too well. Eagle. 

As he came closer, Brant studied his familiar face. A trio of lines snaked across the outside corners of his sky blue eyes, resembling one whose eyes smiled often. In contrast, light wrinkles in his forehead appeared, reminiscent of a person accustomed to anxiousness. With a sigh, Brant remembered how accurate the paradox drawn on his face was. 

In contrast with the Alcontean faces all around, either contorted into wild pleasure or hardened into stony indifference, Eagle eyed Brant with a certain compassion as he stepped into earshot. 

"Why didn't you listen to me?" Eagle asked, his voice carrying a load of emotion. "I told you to run, Falcon. Run far from this conflict, and never let us find you again. Didn't I request this of you?" 

Brant stared up at the man and bit his lip. "You did, Victor." 

"It's Eagle, Falcon. And why, then, did you do the opposite? You didn't merely not hide, but you also sought out further confrontation! You fought Dove twice, and not unwillingly! You killed Buzzard. And now, here you are." 

"I ask you again, does a god run?" 

Eagle ran his hand through his beard. "You insist you aren't a god, so I find your question confusing." 

"Well then," Brant said, "stop calling me Falcon. My name's Brant, Victor." 

With a roll of his eyes, the blond turned away. He paced back to the edge of the circle of troops, only to pivot on his heel and return. "You refused to listen to me, brother, and so I'll do what I must." 

Eagle raised his voice and spun as he spoke so all could hear. "I could go basic, decapitate all twenty of them, and move on. But where's the fun in that?" 

The Alconteans roared, and though no individual words could be picked out, their tonality suggested cheerful affirmation. 

"I put forth a wager here." Eagle shouted when the crowd settled down. "I, Eagle, god of blades, challenge you, Falcon, god of vision to a duel to first blood."

******************** 

A/N: This was a really fun one to write, and I feel like I say that a lot, but that's just because this book in general was a blast for me. I hope it's the same for you reading it, and if so, make sure to give me a vote and some comments to let me know! I appreciate you. 😁 

So, how was that for a hooking ending, eh? Do you have confidence in how Brant will hold up, or are you nervous? 

I guess this'll be a short note, because I'm already at my random question. What song are you currently listening to, or if you aren't right now and have a way to check, what's the last song you did listen to? 

(I just checked, and it looks like last song I heard was "Everything Happens To Me" by Sonny Stitt. I'm old-fashioned and jazzy in my music tastes and not ashamed of it! 😄) 

With that, I'll leave you for the next few days. I hope you do well, and I hope to see you in the next update! Until then, cheers!