Zephyr Ashwright's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Zephyr Ashwright woke in wet leaves with one name in his head: the rabbit. He had promised to meet his best friend by the pond at dawn. Now the sun sat high, his green force field flickered around him, and the friend was gone. Half elf, half machine, Zephyr flexed his big metal arm and pushed off the ground. He could fly. He could bend fire. But none of that helped him find a small creature in a forest he did not remember entering. He rose above the trees and scanned the ground. Below, a bunny with a jet pack shot between the trunks, laser eyes cutting a bright line through the shade. Zephyr's chest lifted. "There you are!" he called, and dove. But the bunny was not alone. A red fox raced beside it, green eyes glowing, its body sleek and fast. And crashing behind them both came a blue pig the size of a wagon, red eyes burning, huge arms tearing roots from the dirt. The pig was chasing them. Zephyr flew hard and cut between the pig and his friend. He threw his metal arm forward and pushed a wall of fire from his palm. The flames roared. The pig skidded, squealed, and swung one thick arm through the blaze. The blow smashed Zephyr sideways into a tree. His force field cracked green and held, barely. He got up fast. The bunny darted to his shoulder and pressed against his neck. The fox circled Zephyr's legs, teeth bared at the pig. They were both his, he understood now. Both friends. Both scared. "Go," Zephyr told them. "To the pond. Water. Now." The bunny understood. It fired its jet pack and streaked away, the fox running below. The pig charged after them, and Zephyr flew above it, dropping fire to slow each step. He drove the pig toward the water. At the pond's edge the fox turned, planted its feet, and the pig plowed straight into the shallows. It thrashed, blinded by spray, and the fight went out of it. Zephyr landed between his friends, breathing hard. He had found them. Both of them, alive. Then a shape rose from the trees on the far bank. A short cloaked figure watched them, one arm huge and tipped with claws, a scar splitting his bald head. His red eyes matched the pig's exactly. He raised the clawed hand, and the pig turned and lumbered back to his side, obedient. "Nice trick with the fire," Malachus Grimclaw said. His voice was flat and quiet. "The animals were mine. You just made them yours." He looked at the bunny on Zephyr's shoulder. "So now you're mine too." Zephyr's force field brightened. He had come to find his friends. He had found them. But he had also found the one who wanted to take them back.