Storm Says Violence Works For Her

After-Hours Attack

The nocturnal denizens of the swamp filled the night air with their melodies. Crickets chirped in a steady rhythm, while the distant croaking of frogs added a bassline to their serenade. Underneath the shimmering moonlight, the landscape transformed into a vibrant tapestry of sounds and shadows. Below the murky waters, fish lurked, occasionally daring to leap from the water to snag a bug from the surface. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. This intoxicating aroma mingled with the sweet fragrance of blooming nightflowers. A peculiar and damp aroma of decay intertwined with the scent of blooming flowers. The swamp threatened to swallow all that entered.

Two isomara waded into the swamp, well accustomed to the aquatic environment. Toxin shuffled her paws along the bottom of the swamp, feeling for medicinal plants. By her, a large, dark dustrum who floated alongside their mother, mostly submerged in the muck. The only thing that noted the duestrum’s presence was their large antlers sticking up from the water, which from a distance looked like gnarled branches.

Finding a particular weed with her paws, Toxin pulled it up from the bottom. She inspected it for a moment before depositing it in a bag sitting on her back. Continuing the search, Storm drifted alongside her lazily, watching her mother collect plants. Storm's eyes barely peaking out from the surface of the water, much like a crocodile. The duo glided effortlessly through the marsh, with Toxin dedicated to her mission and Storm staying alert and watchful. With each plant they gathered, the night seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Toxin felt Storm's paw gently tap her side, signaling for her attention. The isomara broke concentration on their search and turned to their daughter. Storm’s eyes were locked on a spot in the darkness. Seemingly focusing on something Toxin had not yet detected. Storm seemed to sense there was something at the edge of the water, and sunk below the surface. Storm glided along the bottom of the swamp towards the edge shore. She settled at the edge, waiting below the surface for movement. She anchored her back paws in the mud to keep herself from drifting off in the current.

Toxin watched as the bushes began to shake, signaling that something was approaching. The head of a familiar isomara popped out from the underbrush. It’s orange and green splotches signaling exactly who had stumbled upon Toxin. Toxin halted in her tracks as she caught sight of the lone isomara, whose eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. They took a step into the water to approach Toxin.

SPLASH!

Storm erupted from the water. She wrapped four arms around the isomara, gripping them tightly in her embrace. The duestrum jolted backwards, pulling the saboteur under the water with Storm. Toxin watched as the saboteur struggled against Storm’s hold, its fuzzy body writhing as it sought a way to escape. Just as it seemed the saboteur might break free, Storm rolled, putting the isomara beneath her body. Storm pinned the saboteur against the bottom of the swamp.

“Storm!” Toxin barked.

“Just, until they stop fighting.” Storm snarled. “You know how to wake them back up anyway.”

The saboteur kicked and thrashed under Storm’s grip, minutes passed as the isomara held its breath. Being a semi-aquatic species, Storm knew isomara could hold their breath for an impressive amount of time. As the isomara seemed to weaken, they did not pull them back up, feeling not nearly enough time had passed for their air to be running out. Toxin disapproved of the violence, yet she couldn’t overlook the outcome achieved by Storm. This was the first time she had seen someone put their hands on the isomara. The saboteur grew still, feigning defeat. Storm’s grip held strong as they counted the seconds in their head. Instead, tightening the hold to ensure that the saboteur couldn't escape. The murky water swirled around them, the tension rising with each passing second. 

Sensing their breath faltering, the Isomara commenced a genuine struggle for survival. They twisted and turned, desperate to break free from the unyielding grasp that threatened to drown them. They clawed at the muddy bottom of the swamp, desperately seeking a way out of the duestrum’s grip. Panic ripped through their heart, and ice-cold adrenaline surged through their veins. With every ounce of strength, they fought against the suffocating darkness that enveloped them, their lungs burning for air. Yet it was no use, and Storm felt the isomara go limp.

NEXT: Haunted Hut

Storm lifted the lifeless isomara from the depths of the swamp. Its once vibrant colors now dulled by the murky waters. Storm heaved them onto the shore, slapping them onto the moss with a solid thump. They were completely unconscious, and clearly not faking it. Toxin rushed forward to assess their condition. She prodded the saboteur, checking their breathing, eyes, and pulse. She checked to make sure their windpipe was free of water by giving them a few stiff slaps on the back. Storm sat above on the shore, watching her mother work. Toxin moved as if she had done this countless times before, with years of wisdom passed down by her own now-gone family.

“They’ll be fine.” Toxin sighed. “Let’s take them back home.”

Storm hauled the unconscious isomara onto her back.

The trek to the hut was not long, but traversing the swamp was not an easy task. Gnarled branches and soft ground impeded travel. With each step, the squelching mud threatened to trap paws in place. Toxin and Storm knew this area well. They used waterways and game trails to progress forward towards home. As they navigated the thick underbrush, the familiar sounds of the forest eased their anxiety. They felt the nerves from the confrontation wash away into the murky swamp waters. Toxin and Storm eased into the journey.

The unconscious isomara remained firmly on Storm’s back as she glided through the water. Trailing closely behind Toxin. She kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, knowing the landscape could prove troublesome to the unprepared isomara.

After about an hour of travel, Toxin’s hovel came into view. A large wooden hut sat atop thick log stilts. It seemed to hover over the swamp. Vines and plants hung from every available space on the hut’s surface. Many of which were planted and tended by Toxin, with the intention of making medicine for ailing island residents. The air was heavy with the smell of damp earth and herbs, creating an atmosphere that was both eerie and welcoming. To a stranger, the hut was a scary witch’s hut. A frightful image conjured up around campfire stories. To Toxin and Storm, it was not just a witch’s hut, but it was also home.

Toxin climbed up the rope ladder dangling from the front of the hut. Storm pulled the unconscious saboteur off their back and put them firmly under one arm. She climbed up the rope ladder with little issue, hauling the other isomara up with her. Toxin hoisted the ladder up behind Storm. She pulled the wooden door of the hut open for Storm to enter and shut that behind herself as well. Sealing them inside the hut from the swamp outside.

Within the hut, the windowsills were adorned with an array of potions, each offered to bring healing and solace. Among them were experimental concoctions alongside time-honored remedies handed down through Toxin and Storm’s lineage. On the far side of the room stood an empty cauldron, waiting to be filled with ingredients. Storm hauled the isomara over to a table and slapped them down on its surface. The isomara hit the table with a loud thud that caused Toxin to wince in discomfort.

“Gentle!” Toxin barked.

Storm sat by the table as Toxin selected leaves from a nearby plant rooted in the wall. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced across their faces. Storm watched intently, curious about what Toxin’s process. Toxin placed the lealeavesfs in the mouth of the unconscious isomara. As Storm watched Toxin, she got to work binding the saboteur with rope. Being sure not to tie it too tight that it hurt them, but not too loose that they could wriggle free. Toxin watched, making sure Storm was adequately binding the isomara on the table. She replayed the many near escapes in the back of her head as she supervised Storm.

“If they get loose, we will never get ahold of them again.” Toxin spoke. “Even Dandylion can’t catch up to them.”

Storm hesitated at Toxin’s revelation, struggling to fully grasp the weight of the words just spoken. As she studied Toxin’s face, all she found was genuine sincerity reflected in her eyes. With a decisive nod, Storm proceeded to tighten the knots in the bindings. She understood the necessity of ensuring they were secure for the arduous journey ahead. This isomara had to be returned to Darwin, and the path that lay before them promised to be long.

“We’ll leave for Darwin’s after a meal.”

NEXT: Muted Mongrel

The comforting warmth of the soup still lingered in the stomachs of Toxin and Storm. As they sat in the dimly lit kitchen, the steam rising from their bowls created a cozy atmosphere. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and the occasional pause to savor the flavors. Outside, the swamp loomed, but inside felt like a sanctuary away from the darkness of the world. They cherished these moments, knowing that they were the glue holding their bond together.

They embarked on their journey to Darwin's together. Storm pulled the now sleeping saboteur onto her back. Taking extra rope to tie a harness across her chest to bind the isomara to her. With a firm grip on the knots, Storm cast a quick glance back at Toxin. Toxin pulled a backpack onto her shoulders and gave Storm a thumbs up. With that reassuring gesture, Storm set off into the swamp. Departing the hut with a graceful dive into the waters below. A splash of water fanned out around her as she hit the water. Another splash fanned out as Toxin dove intot he swamp after Storm.

Across the swamp, the first hints of dawn began to illuminate the dark sky. Mist curled around the twisted roots of ancient trees, shrouding the landscape in a delicate veil. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the promise of a new day awakening. Birdsong gradually pierced the silence, echoing through the dense foliage as creatures stirred from their slumber. A lone heron took flight, startled by the presence of the two isomara. The spooky atmosphere lingered over the swamp, but the biome felt noticeably warmer in the light. Traversing the swamp in the daytime was noticeably easier.

Toxin’s and Storm’s paws splashed as they crossed a puddle. The environment of the swamp began to fade around them. Trees thinned out, giving way to the familiar trees of the island’s forest. As they went further, the air was fragrant with blooming wildflowers, a sharp contrast to the murky waters they had just departed. Storm remained closely tethered to Toxin, with the saboteur Isomara bouncing on their back with every step they took.

“I think they just moved.” Storm broke the silence.

“Mhm.” Toxin replied. “This is when the herbs should be entering their bloodstream.”

The isomara kicked their leg as they started to return to consciousness. Their ears flicked back and forth, and their tail twitched.

"Pick up the pace," Toxin urged.

Storm and Toxin quickened their pace, breaking into a trot. Leaves crunched under their paws. They navigated through the dense underbrush, Toxin leading the way. Paws rhythmically traversed well-worn paths that Toxin had journeyed countless times before. As they journeyed onward, tree after tree flew by, each one a distinct landmark firmly etched in Toxin's memory.

Darwin's shop frequently relocated to better serve various areas of the island. His monthly schedule was highly predictable, featuring established locations where he would position his stand. Currently, it sat on the beach beyond this forest, in the heart of a local village. This routine allowed him to build a loyal customer base who eagerly awaited his monthly arrivals. Each location brought new faces and familiar friends, creating a small community around his mobile business.

The saboteur coughed as they finally regained consciousness. Dizzy, they were completely out of it. Their mind struggled to comprehend what was happening or where they were. As their surroundings gradually came into view, they understood that they were in motion, being transported.They started to fight against their restraints. Panic surged through their veins as they realized the urgency of escaping. They tried to yell out, but were muzzled by a rope tied tightly around their snout.

“Best of luck,” Storm laughed.

“You’re going to Darwin’s whether you like it or not.” Toxin snorted. “I hope you enjoyed my mystery candies.” Those were being researched for medicine, to save other isomara. Like yourself.”

The saboteur paused, listening to Toxin’s words. Their heart raced as they processed the implications of what Toxin was saying. Their head darted around, seeming to recognize what part of the island they were at. The three isomara were nearing Darwin’s shop. The saboteur was powerless to stop Storm and Toxin from dragging them to Darwin. They continued to struggle, kicking and wriggling against their binds.

Toxin snorted, disgusted by the sight of the scoundrel’s pathetic attempts to escape. Soon they would face justice for their sabotage. The time for mercy had long passed, and Toxin was determined to make them pay for their  theft.

NEXT: Defeated Darwin

The village buzzed with the vibrant energy of daily activities. Isolings played in the fields while the elders gathered under the shade of the old oak tree, sharing stories of times gone by. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, inviting everyone to the bakery on the corner. On the outskirts of the village, Darwin was setting up his shop. The shopkeeper stocked their wares, setting up conches and fruits on their counter. His stall was covered with various hard-to-obtain goods. While he organized his belongings, he noticed several intrigued villagers approaching, eager to  browse the treasures he had to share. Among the rare items were vibrant spices and rare and unusual fruits that promised to add flavor to any meal. 

Storm and Toxin quickly trotted into the village. The streets were bustling with activity as residents went about their daily routines. Storm lowered their head, feeling uncomfortable in the presence of so many isomara. Toxin gently nudged Storm, offering a reassuring presence as they navigated the vibrant chaos that surrounded them. As they wove their way through the throng, they scanned the lively array of colors and sounds in search of the familiar figure of Darwin.

Slowly, isomara around Storm and Toxin began to take notice of the isomara draped across Storm’s back.

“Is that?” A murmur rose from the crowd.

“No way!” Another voice rose.

Storm glanced around nervously, hoping they were focused on the saboteur and not her. Worry grew in her, as her color and horn shape were easily recognizable. Linking her to a dark past she’d rather forget. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. She scanned the eyes of the crowd, and each seemed locked onto the back of the duestrum, and not on Storm. The saboteur glared at the isomara around them, sulking beneath their muzzle. The liveliness of the village waned, and a growing silence pushed forward. An uneasy tension filled the air as whispers of uncertainty began to circulate.

Toxin pushed her way through the gathering crowd. Paying no mind to the growing gathering around them. They were eager to be done with this scoundrel and move on with their lives. Pushing through, the two isomara approached the outskirts of the village. The silhouette of Darwin's stand gradually slid into view.

The structure loomed like a beacon of commerce, promising more trouble than resolution. As they neared, the murmur of the crowd faded, replaced by the low rumble of Darwin's voice, laced with charm as they spoke to a customer. Bartering back and forth on the price of several tomatoes. The customer slid a couple of sand dollars across the counter to Darwin, who pocketed them as the customer left. He appeared to pause for a moment, savoring the significance of the money.

Hearing the commotion, Darwin’s attention was pulled in Storm and Toxin’s direction. Darwin greeted them with a warm smile, excited to showcase his collection. It took him a moment to realize the saboteur was placed on Storm’s back. The isomara’s snout wrinkled at the sight of the orange and green isomara. 

“Thats them!” Darwin exclaimed loudly, directing his finger at Storm. “They caught the saboteur!”

Storm froze, and took a defensive posture.

“Relax, they aren’t pointing at you.” Toxin nudged Storm.

As they reached the shop, Storm untied the saboteur from her back. She tossed them onto the counter with the same flair as a fisherman showcasing the day's fresh catch. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and disbelief as he regarded the bound saboteur.

“How many mystery candies are in stock?” Toxin spoke, anger laced in her voice.

Darwin hesitated, glancing nervously at the inventory sheets.

“I just got a new batch in, but-," he replied, but was cut off.

“All. Of. Them.” Toxin demanded. “Or I walk, with our friend here.”

Darwin crossed his arms, and his expression twisted for a few moments. He looked at the saboteur laying on his counter. Then back to Toxin and Storm. With a heavy sigh, he finally relented.

"Fine, you can have them.” As he turned to grab the inventory sheets, he scribbled off a part of the parchment. “You’ll have them at your hut by sundown.”

Darwin scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed it to Toxin. Toxin tucked the paper into the sash on her hat. As she adjusted her hat, then turned to leave with Storm in tow. Satisfied with the knowledge their mystery candy stash would soon be restocked.