Where Words Fail

Book Six: It's All or Nothing

Chapter 5, Part 2: You know what, now I know who homie is, man: his name is D-D-Death

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fan fiction - nothing more, nothing less. It has been made purely for entertainment purposes, and is not meant for commercial gain. Avatar: The Last Airbender and all characters, places and concepts are copyright of Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. All original characters are copyright their respective owners and are used with their permission. The story has been illustrated by the talented and awesome SioUte, and this chapter's cover can be found here:

sioute(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/WWF-6-5-156057545

SCENE DIVIDE

Noise - from somewhere above, but distant still. In the direction of the dining hall. Shouting, weapons clashing, things breaking -

"They've started the party without us," Hunter said, a grin slicing his face. He glanced over to Pestle. "Is that where we're heading?"

"Yeah." Pestle set her jaw. Mortar wasn't too far away now - and the other Freedom Fighters, Hunter was right, it sounded like a battle had already broken out. The Overdweller wasn't anticipating her or the Hunter Brothers to join the fray, because so far as that jerkbelly was concerned, the four children were still missing or captive. So -

Bones, who had been traveling ahead of the others, came to a quick stop, hunkering down and reaching for one of his knives. "Not alone," he said, casting his gaze left, right. Even though the battle still raged on in the distance, an eerie quiet settled over the four Freedom Fighters. Pestle tightened her grip on her hammers, waiting, waiting -

Bandits! They'd finally crossed paths with some - they spilled from the woods, six of them dressed in shabby clothes, dusty and torn and burnt. They were quick to draw weapons, most of which Pestle recognized from the weapons' cache, and yeah they were outnumbered, but the Earthbender had taken charge, led the Hunter Brothers this far, so before the first bandit could attack -

She brought one of the hammers down, hard into the ground, and three chunks of earth flipped up into the air; she thrust the other hammer at one of the blocks, sending it careening into one of the bandits, a spray of dirt and pebbles splashing outward. She kicked another block, and it surged towards another bandit - missed! - crashed into a tree and crumbled. She swung one of the hammers around again, but the weight threw her off her balance, missed the last chunk of earth entirely; it collapsed back into the ground.

The Hunter Brothers were fast to act, too - they charged forward, yelling, Skins plunging the tip of his spear into one of the bandit's arms, tugging it away with a splash of blood, strands of muscle coming away, stuck to the tip, Hunter bringing his machete down on one of the bandits' heads - dodging, hit the shoulder instead, Pestle heard the man's collar bone snap, Bones swinging wildly with two of his knives, slashing one of the bandits across the chest, the stomach, colliding with him and forcing him down to the ground, screaming -

Pestle hoisted the hammers up again and ran for one of the bandits, pinwheeling them around her body, pulse hammering in her throat, behind her ears, throat raw, was she screaming? Maybe - hard to tell, her muscles burned, throbbed, each step jarring up her ankles, knees, the hammers heavy in her hands but she had the strength to lift them, to use them, empowered by the moment, she'd rarely been in actual serious fights before but she knew the feeling, Jet had put her on the front lines a few times, and, and right in front of her, one of the bandits - Pestle swung both hammers around in a tight arc, the first one hitting the bandit's left arm (had been holding a, a sword - a tulwar?), the other connecting with his side, gross, sickening, wet noises, the arm snapping and going at a funny angle, ribs crunching, organs squooshing, the clothing around both parts had already started to turn red, seeping blood, and he fell over, he was useless now (she figured) -

"Look out!" Skins yelled, vaulting over Pestle (felt his hand on her shoulder, just a moment, pushing down and springing away), swinging his spear around; he slashed across a bandit's chest, the one she had knocked over with the earth block, he yowled and fell back, clothes torn, a bright red gash set against his filthy skin, and Pestle reacted, bringing one of the hammers hard into the bandit's knee, the same nauseating wet snapcrunchpop! splicing the air, he collapsed to the ground, knee bent in a way it shouldn't, and - Pestle slammed the ground with a hammer again, a piece of rock shooting up beneath the man's back, flinging him out, away, vanishing into the woods, brush and leaves snapping as they swallowed him up.

Skins jumped away, and, and Pestle moved - Bones beside her now, his knives flashing as he tore another bandit to shreds - but the man, he was able to react, he brought his club down, down, would hit Bones if Pestle didn't do something - she brought one of the hammers up, deflected the blow, sent the club flying, Bones looked up at her in shock for just a moment before turning back to the bandit and delivering a sharp, upward cut, piercing the man's - throat - blood, all over - Pestle lurched back, the stuff splattered her face, her armor, she'd throw up if - no, no time to be sick, to many people were counting on her -

Hunter, Hunter yelped, Pestle turned to face him, saw him clutching a wound on his thigh - swung his machete in a narrow arc, but the bandit that had hit him back-stepped, looked like this one had some actual skill - Pestle and Bones charged at the same time, Bones yelled something about - about how messing with one Hunter Brother meant messing with all of them, and he dropped down to the ground, slid between the bandit's legs, one of the knives digging into the man's hamstrings, the other aimed for an ankle, missed - Pestle stopped short of the man, stomped a foot at the ground instinctively - shot up a pillar of rock beneath his wounded leg, sending him sprawling backwards, and - and -

Down. Everyone, all of the bandits, and no more emerged from the woods.

"Hunter, are you okay?" She asked, glancing over to the middle Hunter Brother; Skins and Bones had come up to him, the former with his hands on Hunter's shoulders.

"I'm good. Not very deep - just caught me by surprise, is all." Hunter pushed upright, wincing - hawked, spat a loogey onto the bandit that had cut him. Voice terse, he added, "We'd better hurry if we want to keep the others from getting hurt any worse."

Pestle nodded - putting the bandits, the gross things she and the Hunters had had to do to them, behind her, wiping the blood from her cheek with a sleeve. There were more important things to worry about. Without another word, she lead the others away, charging, the dirt rough against the bare soles of her feet, plants tickling her, but that was okay, it was a sensation, she was okay, alive, and now she would be the one to support Mortar.

SCENE DIVIDE

Sneers didn't know what to make of it.

He felt - energized, supercharged - by Smellerbee's speech. She looked so, so natural performing it, and the words, beautiful and vivid, overtook him with their strength, their heartfelt purity, their soulful rage, and the undeniable truths - Freedom Fighters looked out for each other because nobody else would. Jet had taken Sneers under his wing with that mentality, as he had with Longshot, Smellerbee, Pipsqueak, The Duke, Skillet...everyone. That never changed. It had always been there, real, tangible, and Sneers knew it - but somewhere in the course of her revival, Smellerbee had put more weight behind that knowledge than the monk had during her absence. She had charisma to spare; she inspired; she was fantastic.

He hated her for it.

Sneers had never elicited that sort of jolt from those he led, he never brought them from the brink of disaster so uproariously. The other Freedom Fighters had unanimously agreed to aide his war efforts, and that was the closest he'd ever come to that - and it had been a slow, gradual process, without flair, without show. Sneers didn't have that flowing, glorious charisma - just the trust of those he'd charged himself to care for.

Then again, maybe that was enough. With the rest of the Core gone, Sneers had gotten to know the others better.

Either way...he sighed, hated even admitting it just to himself...Smellerbee at least had what it took to lead, and it couldn't have been more obvious. The others had rallied, even those who didn't know her directly falling in behind her cause, and so had he himself. He pulled the spring-loaded blade free from his arm and flicked his lifeblood from its edge, holding it by the guardless grip. (It was a shallow wound, but deeper than the accidental slice Smellerbee had taken out of him - he'd need to see to that sooner rather than later, and he was close to running on fumes now - the little dull aches from being shackled up so long had started to shine through alongside the larger ones from the fight, no matter how hard he tried suppressing them.)

"Freedom Fighters, attack!"

The Overdweller - Sneers saw the panic in his eye now, felt his mouth curling into a furious smirk, his brow furrowing - turned to run, but Mortar hurled a mug at the back of his head with Earthbending. It shattered against his oily hair, the shards raining down to the wood, and he stumbled - but it wasn't enough to stop him. Sneers felt his legs moving (so heavy, so tired), dragging against the wood, as fast as he could, but the Overdweller just moved too fast, too fast -

- and Telltale, screaming, appearing from high above with his broken-in-half pike in both hands, the sharpened tip aimed down - the Overdweller heard, juked to the side, the pike catching the tail of his longcoat, pinning it to the wood - the Overdweller kicked Telltale, the boy too inexperienced to back away - a glimmer of silver against the brown before his toe hit the boy's stomach - crimson flowing, flowing -

(NO)

- the kick had enough force to send Telltale rolling, crashing back-first into a tree, stopping in a heap on his side -

- someone, screaming, Sneers' throat rattled and hurt and all other noise in the world had gone, gone, he realized he heaved that guttural roar -

- the Overdweller shucked off his coat, leaving him in a filthy, once-white tunic and dusty, stained pants, the man running again -

- Spike hurled his javelin, the Overdweller ducked, the weapon embedded into a tree's trunk at the opposite end of the dining hall -

- another mug zinged past Sneers' head, so close that he could feel the wind on his face, hit the Overdweller in the shoulder -

- Smellerbee yelling, couldn't hear her well, something about first aid, and then -

The Overdweller had reached the edge of the dining hall. No ziplines extended out that way - only tree branches, and a long fall if one wasn't careful enough. He didn't hesitate, instead choosing to make a leap to the nearest branch - soaring through the air, so weird that a middle-aged man could make a jump like that - but, no time to waste, soon the floor had vanished beneath Sneers, too, and he roared through the air after this, this, Telltale was just a kid, and Sneers felt his chi pulsating around him, focus it, focus it, just like the monks taught, turn your emotion and your chi inward, then redirect them outward -

One branch to the next, brown and red and orange whirling past he chased the Overdweller, unsure if any of the others had followed. His prey didn't know where he was going, he was just - running, fleeing like a coward, spry and agile but lost because this was not his home turf, springing from this tree to that, zigging, zagging, juking and dogging, but Sneers stayed on him, because he would kill the bastard, he would stomp the brains right out of his skull -

A blue and brown blur, like a flash of dark lightning, struck the murderer from the side, having leapt upward, and Sneers saw him plunge, his assailant stopping long enough only to pursue down after him.

Smellerbee.

The girl had usurped his leadership. She had the gall to return to his forest - and now she would try to steal away his vengeance, she would, that traitorous bitch, she would steal the murderer and Telltale's scrawny form crumbling, his bright-eyed gaze going soft, the gap-toothed, childlike grin on his face fading to nothing, he could see them in his mind -

There! Below, on a path winding and cutting between the tree trunks, Smellerbee standing, that murderer - not, what was going on - he leapt, springing away from the tree branch beneath him, the bark scraping his soles - the wind bombarding him from all sides and

the only way to survive a fall like that was to either land and roll or strike back at the Earth harder than it could strike you

Sneers extended one fist forward and slammed it into the ground, landing in a crouch that jarred his body, made his bones tingle and left his muscles feeling loose and wiggly for a moment. Right between Smellerbee and the murderer, not the Overdweller anymore, who had backed himself against the trunk of a tree, blood streaming down his face from a cut under his hair, a scarlet streak running down his temple, cheek, vanishing beyond his jaw. His mouth curled into a quivering scowl, fear and defiance radiant from his single eye, and Sneers felt himself unfurling, taking slow, steady paces towards the feeble excuse of a human being, his fists clenching, raised above his head, he would kill the man with enough gall to ruin his Freedom Fighters and then Smellerbee would be next -

"Sneers!"

The monk stopped in his tracks, but did not turn to face his former comrade. "Don't say anything. He killed Telltale."

"Believe me, I wouldn't mind taking an arm and a leg off before burying this mother myself," Smellerbee said, "but right now we need him alive. We don't know where Pestle is and some of the others I don't know about might be missing."

"..." Sneers felt his shoulders bunching as a hushed silence blanketed the forest; he could hear the leaves rustling overhead as a breeze whispered past, and occasional padding, scraping, creaking noises of Freedom Fighters springing from tree branch to tree branch overhead – surrounding the trio, watching from afar to see what would happen next, brewing a murky bog of tension. Birds chittered in the distance – real ones, not the calls used by the Freedom Fighters, and hog monkeys screeched and howled from the boughs. The murderer pressed his back against the tree trunk, his face white.

Sneers felt his fingers curl into fists, his muscles tensing, knuckles going white. He hated Smellerbee, hated, hated, hated her so much right now – for being the tactician, for trying to cut her losses, couldn't she see this beast, this, this nothing better than an animal, needed to be put down before any more life could be lost?

Smellerbee glided past the monk, flashing him a sideways glance from beneath the brim of Longshot's hat before turning her attention in full to the murderer. Realizing the depth of his trouble, the man gasped and began to scrabble away, but the swordswoman was quick to stop him – a quick boot to the chest drove him back against the tree trunk, making him hiss, and Smellerbee darted in close, pressing the edge of her sword against the man's throat. His eye went even wider as he instinctively craned his neck further back (idiot, not realizing it only left him easier to kill), peering past his round, filthy cheekbone with a quivering pupil. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Yes, it was the look of a man soon to die, and Sneers would see to it himself.

SCENE DIVIDE

Smellerbee was only distantly aware of the other Freedom Fighters gradually descending – some dropping down from the trees like she had (air rushing past her, thrilling, energizing, refreshing), others using the ziplines, and she felt her cheeks ache as her lips curled into a sinister scowl. Pressing against the Overdweller, she could feel his chest heaving, his breath hot in her face, and the cold satisfaction that she'd set things straight in just a few minutes helped her keep a level head.

Couldn't think about Telltale now – he would be seen to, one way or the other.

Smellerbee brought her face in as close to the lunatic's as she could without letting their noses touch. She reached up with her free hand and dug her fingers into his oily, black hair, tightening her grasp and pulling back, making him wince. "Here's the deal. You're a dead man one way or the other; I'm gonna ask you questions, you're gonna gimme answers, and depending on how I like what I hear, your death will either be fast an' easy, or a big ole' scene. And it's gonna hurt a lot more."

"I'll tell you nothing, girl!" He seethed, opening his eye and glaring. "You have broken my dream, my destiny, yes you have, you're a very bad girl, but you see, you have not broken my spirit!"

",,,Hmph." Smellerbee narrowed her eyes. "Right. Fine. Spirit's the goal, right? Let's start by breaking other things. Sneers – let's motivate our friend a little bit."

Wordlessly, the monk shuffled up beside the swordswoman, and Smellerbee could feel his gaze first on her, then on the Overdweller. The monk was pissed, and he probably would want to take something out of her hide once their common enemy had been buried – but that was a calculated risk, right? She'd gone into this anticipating Sneers wouldn't be so chummy, and he'd already made it clear he wanted Jet's swords (never gonna happen, he didn't understand why she carried them). As more of the children joined the scene, the tension in the air grew thicker between the trio taking center stage, and at last Sneers grabbed The Overdweller's damaged hand in both of his.

"You want to know the funny thing about combat?" Sneers said, his voice low and rugged and, Smellerbee admitted to herself with coy appreciation, actually intimidating. "So much of it requires your fingers. Armed combat, yeah, that's kind of the obvious one. Most unarmed martial arts. Bending. Hell, even fighting styles that focus on the legs or feet require your fingers to some degree – a nice, strong kick can be amplified by planting your hand on the ground for balance."

Smellerbee winced as a snap – light, like somebody stepping on a twig – pierced the air, and the Overdweller gasped in response (but didn't yell, or even cry out, nothing satisfying, but that would have to wait, wouldn't it?). The old man's face drained of color, and his lips quivered from the effort needed to himself in control.

"That was your pinkie finger," Sneers murmured, bringing his head close to the Overdweller's as well, his voice almost a whisper. "You've still got nine digits left to go before I start on your wrists."

"Go to hell," The Overdweller sneered, drawing a sharp breath – and grunting as another dry snap pierced the air, clenching his jaw and eye shut.

"Two down," Sneers whispered – and, Spirits help Smellerbee, with the queasy sensation lurching through her guts, she felt her resolve as a leader begin to shake – this was torture, wasn't it, this was almost something Jet might have done –

- and she wasn't Jet, she didn't plan to lead the Freedom Fighters down the same path he had, because leading and trying to be someone she wasn't would have been too much to burden herself with at one time -

- but, sometimes you had to go down a dark path, regardless of your best intentions. If they didn't do this, the Overdweller wouldn't talk and Pestle and any other missing Freedom Fighters might never be found. This wasn't following in Jet's footsteps, or regressing to how things had been before she learned to think for herself; it was making the hard choice, and that's what leadership was really all about. She swallowed - the nausea didn't vanish, but she felt - felt more justified knowing all this.

"So, are you feeling talkative yet?" Smellerbee asked.

"I'll cut out my own tongue before – AAH!"

(Good, he yelped this time)

"Three," Sneers said. "You've only got your pointer finger and thumb left on that hand. Are you still feeling cute?"

"Nff – " Squeezing his eye shut, the Overdweller tried to twist his head, but Smellerbee's fingers tangled into his hair kept him steady. "I – the girl, the girl is alive, damn you! My lieutenants will bring her to me, yes, they will, once they know I've fallen! And then you will find yourself in a much more substantial dilemma!"

"Where is she?" Smellerbee growled.

"You'll not find her until she arrives – " Another dry snap, and he yelped again, and – and yes, she felt a little satisfied by it, but mostly sick, this was terrible, she should just slash the man's throat and be done with it.

"Fine." Her patience wore thin. "What about the others? Who else have you spirited away?"

"The – the girl is the only one I've had to take! I swear you that much is true, it is, it is!"

She cast a glance over to Sneers, and the monk kept his focus on their enemy, indecision rife on his face. "It's possible he's telling the truth. I had to build an intelligence network over the last month, and some of the others have left the forest to pursue those ends."

"Acceptable enough," she conceded, turning her attention back to the Overdweller. "How did you find out about this place?"

"I – " He flinched, but no snapping sound broke into the sky – Sneers probably had that last finger in hand, though, and the Overdweller knew what would come next by this point, and was he really willing to go through any more? "Twelve years ago, in the Fire Navy. I was just a leading seaman, I was, I was, serving on the ships in the south. Promotion after promotion passed me by, and I was trying so hard, yes yes yes, I was, I was doing what few other soldiers would do, I researched, I scouted potential colonization areas, and I read about this forest in one of the scrolls, a forest where the leaves stay red all year round!"

Smellerbee felt her eyes narrow. In the raucous cacophony of the past few hours, she hadn't even paused to consider that the Overdweller might be Fire Nation. But, he was, if his story had any truth to it, and now – now she felt a little more justified, this made things a little clearer, because he would already have been ingrained with the mindset of conquering the world for his nation's glory.

"At first I disregarded it, I did, because a navy has no business traveling so far inland, especially when a southern fleet would have to go to the northern hemisphere, yes yes yes!" The Overdweller's teeth – yellow, scummy, had been bared as he scowled at the two Freedom Fighters, his eye slipping from one to the other in rapid succession. "But, but but but! Two years ago, the letters - one of the officers on my ship! He got a letter, a letter from a relative in prison, a letter I opened and read without his knowledge, no, a letter mentioning this same forest, the one where the leaves were always red! It was then, yes, then that I had a vision, yes, the Spirits came to me that night in my quarters, and they told me my destiny! I was to come to this very forest, the one that was not right because it was in the wrong place and the wrong climate and I was to bring unity, I was to command it, I would be the one to secure it for my own purposes!"

Drawing a deep breath through his nose, he continued with venom laced in his voice. "By then, legend had long since circulated of Jeong Jeong the deserter and I knew, I knew I could desert too, I could desert like General Jeong Jeong had, and I spent the last two years building my followers!"

"Hmph." Sneers released the Overdweller's hand. "Can I kill him now, mother?"

Smellerbee lowered her gaze. Was it time for that…? Pestle wasn't here yet, which was the main problem, and the Overdweller would serve as a nice bargaining chip (one to be betrayed shortly after a hostage exchange, one to have his spirit and body severed from each other, honor be damned), and she shook her head in response. "Just a little more time."

"I'm losing patience," Sneers hissed, and Smellerbee heard him crack his knuckles. "I've let you lead for long enough. Now I'm going to – "

"Lord Overdweller!"

Smellerbee and Sneers whipped their heads around to see the two bandits from before – the ones from three years ago, the last pair to survive that fateful encounter – enter the clearing, panic in their eyes. "The Earthbender girl! She's gone!"

It was just the distraction the Overdweller needed, because from the corner of her eyes Smellerbee saw flickering orange come to life; she and Sneers jumped back as the Overdweller lashed at the air with a fiery whip, missing the Freedom Fighters by a fraction of an inch, and she cursed, she should have known –

Freed, the Overdweller sauntered over to his remaining lieutenants, brandishing a ball of fire in his unbroken hand, a triumphant smirk on his face. Smellerbee held, crouched down low, her sword at the ready – no, this wasn't a good position, he could be bluffing, they could have Pestle in hand – the other Freedom Fighters stood their ground, waiting for the word to drop -

"You have taken my vision from me," The Overdweller called, giving a dramatic wave of his wounded hand to those he had oppressed. "You have, you are bad children, you reject my unity, and for that, you will suffer without me." The Overdweller turned to the bandits, said, "Thank you for the ploy, gentlemen, and if you would please relinquish the girl - "

(There's no more time, act now)

Moving, Longshot's hat slipped down the back of her head, she whipped through the air and felt her hair ruffling, and her obsidian blade parted the brown and crimson backdrop of the forest but –

- two rocks erupted from the ground behind the bandits, conical and sharp and driven into their backs, sending them airborne, flying, sprawling face-first onto the ground – Pestle, free, not a captive, two battle hammers in hand, three more Freedom Fighters Smellerbee didn't recognize at her backs -

- the Earthbender dropped as the Overdweller shot a lance of flame through the space where her head had been just moments before -

- and there was Mortar, vengeful, rage scrawled onto her face, her good arm raised up, and another spire erupted from the ground near the Overdweller – he danced, he moved out of the way, avoiding the blow with unusual grace for a middle-aged man -

- he clamped his arm around Mortar's neck, his wounded hand twitching, pulled back a fist, no no no NO -

Flames danced across his knuckles as he drove a solid punch into Mortar's gut – and, at the same time, another rock spire burst from the ground. The effect was sudden, and brilliant, and terrible all at once and Smellerbee stopped short because – because it was too late – and a pillar of flame erupted from Mortar's back, and the pointed tip of the spire pierced the Overdweller's chest and, and, so much blood –

The Overdweller's grasp on the young Earthbender slackened. Mortar slumped, slid to the ground, landed in a heap, her mud-brown curls draped around her head like a, like a pelt. She didn't move. Oh Spirits, she didn't move, not after Telltale –

- and Pestle was at her side instantly, talking, so many words, but they were dull, echoes really, Smellerbee couldn't perceive them, because – because she could see through Mortar, see the forest floor through her abdomen, and there was – there was nothing she could do…

That wasn't true. There was something she could do. There always was.

Turning to the Overdweller, she could see that he – he was still alive, yes, he had survived, but he didn't have much longer for this world, his breathing came out thick and heavy and ragged and wet, and blood streaked his chin with running, shimmering scarlet. Smellerbee walked over to him and addressed him silently, with cold eyes and her mouth set into a straight line.

"Well," The Overdweller panted, the words hoarse and laborious, "maybe not…the blonde girl…but the other…will do, just…fine."

(He's taken enough life today.)

With that thought in mind, finishing the job would be easy. The light filtering down through the leaves and boughs of the forest turned a strange, dull brown; the swordswoman glanced up, for only a moment, to see that the sun had vanished behind a great black disk, swallowed by the shadow of the planet. A solar eclipse. If there was some sort of symbolism behind this, she couldn't grasp it quite yet – too many thoughts, the concept of losing Mortar and Telltale flittered through her head, a hummingbird zipping from flower to flower in search of nectar, never stopping for very long. A great, buzzing cacophony thrumming inside her skull. Too much.

Time to shut it all up. Smellerbee brought her sword up and made a great, horizontal slash; the blade, still sharp despite its seasons of disuse, cleaved flesh and bone effortlessly, and the monster's head landed on the ground with a wet, heavy thump.

The Overdweller had fallen.

SCENE DIVIDE

No no no no no NO!

Saw the - the Overdweller - grab Mortar around the neck - fingers looked broken - raise his good fist back, aglow with fire - move, Pestle, move, save her, save Mortar, you're nothing without her, too slow, had to push up off the ground, legs, arms heavy, hammers gone, breath hot - but her head, her head was light, if she could just - just clench a fist - bring it up - do what she had to do - she did, she howled and thrust one arm up into the air, a spire of rock, of earth, impaling the man's chest, but not in time not in time no Mortar fire fire bad Mortar Mortar Mortar -

Pestle was up, the weight gone, tears blurring her vision, streaming down her face, she stumbled, dropped down to her knees at Mortar's side - a hole, a hole inside her, clothes, skin burnt black around it, and, and Mortar looked up at Pestle with glossy eyes - gasped once - then, nothing, body went lax, no, no no no no, not Mortar, no, no it couldn't, Mortar was, was everything, Pestle's world, Pestle's backbone, her strength and power and courage because without Mortar, Pestle had none of these things, Pestle had let Mortar down when Mortar had fought back against the Overdweller, the murderer, and she'd let her down again, had, had let the Overdweller kill her, no, she couldn't be dead, she couldn't!

She felt - she felt her throat tightening, realized that she, she was speaking, yelling, crying, couldn't tell what was coming it, but, but, no, Mortar, don't leave, come back, come back, come...

Where Words Fail

Book Six: It's All or Nothing

End