Wild Tiger Chase - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

— Léon —
He didn't know what was happening or what he did to get to that point.
Léon saw himself in the center of a hurricane that destroyed everything in its path with raging fury. All around him, a thunderstorm raged, but he safe in its center as if the windy walls of ruin were his shield, even if he couldn't control it. The ferocious windstorm uprooted trees and destroyed houses and watch posts, milling everything like a grinder.
What the fuck was going on?
He didn't recognize his surroundings. The flowers, mountains, and even the sight of the beach were distant memories he couldn't quite grasp. He tried to keep still, but something wouldn't let him. The pressure of the cold winds at his back made his legs move on their own and walk forward towards the distant shapes that waited for him.
As he drew closer, through the blurring wall of shredding wind, he saw them.
"Pipo, stay away!" he shouted—but not even his voice managed to escape the eye of the hurricane. Beside Pipo, his mom, Satina, Mary, and Roberto waited. A little distance from them, another someone waited. A face, distorted and evil.
"You can't control it, can you?" asked the figure. At each word they said, the windy walls closed in around Léon. "You're not deserving of what you have, so I'll take it from you. I'll take everything from you!"
With that last shout, the hurricane crumbled. Lashes and violent waves of wind crashed on Léon, stealing the air from his lungs.
He opened his eyes and gasped for air. Violent coughs pumped the foul-tasting water out of him while his head pulsated with pain. Léon looked around, and as his vision cleared, he met Modraniht's scared eyes. The older man cleaned his lips with the back of his hand, then closed his big fingers on Léon's t-shirt and pulled him closer, wrapping him in a fatherly hug.
"It's okay, kid. You're alive." Modraniht gave Léon's shoulders a solid squeeze and helped him sit up. "You scared me." He rested a wet, warm hand on his cheek and turned Léon's face to him. "Can you breathe? Are you cold?"
That was a weird question, Léon thought. He looked around while some cold wetness washed over his feet. He was sitting on a beach with moss-colored sand peppered with pointy rocks that would probably prick his ass once he decided to get up. The water was dark and dense, the air smelled like burnt grass and chemicals, and an orangish light came from the flaming debris of Modraniht's airNAV. So no, with all those fires around, he shouldn't be cold.
Still, his whole body was quivering.
"A little, yes." Only shreds of sound came out of Léon's lips. It was weird to notice how ragged his voice was. When Léon cleared his throat, a strong taste of copper covered his tongue. He tried to gulp down the saliva in his mouth, but his throat rejected it. With a gag reflex, he coughed and spat it aside. It was mostly blood.
"Don't do that," Modraniht said, closing a warm hand around Léon's neck. He patted it and got up. "You drunk a lot of this corrosive water." He pointed at the ocean, walking around and searching through the debris. "Try your best to save your vocal cords and your throat, all right? You don't want the damage to be permanent." With a long sigh, Modraniht rested his big hands on his waist. "I can't seem to find your things," he whispered. "Welp." He took off his jacket and walked back to Léon. "It's a bit wet here and there cause I had to haul you from the ocean, but it should warm you from now."
As Modraniht placed his jacket around Léon's shoulder, Léon reached for the bump in his chest pocket. He fished for the triangular shape inside it and took the amethyst out. The gem Rob had given him seemed to shine even brighter now. He wasn't sure if he had the fire or Old Continent to blame for that, but it somehow made him calmer. He tightened his fingers around it and pressed it against his chest.
"You're lucky you didn't lose that," Modraniht said.
Léon looked around. The airNAV had crashed on a narrow beach. It was half-buried in the sand and rock, while the other half lay dented and crushed among the broken trees. There were wood splinters and massive palm leaves everywhere, most of them already dry and burning.
"We're lucky we're alive," Léon corrected in a husky voice. He pulled the jacket around his shoulders, trying to warm himself a bit better.
Modraniht laughed. "I guess you're right." He wore a thin shirt with a colorful print of little parrots. The shirt opened when he bent to get some pieces of wood; underneath it, cropped by a white tank top, there was a myriad of faint tattoos. Modraniht pointed at the colorful shirt. "I have this old thing to thank for that. It saved our lives."
A frown. Léon tried to get up, ignoring the pain the pointy rocks caused. "What do you mean?"
"Something weird happened." Modraniht furrowed his eyebrows and walked back to place the wood at Léon's feet. "I just... blacked out. I remember having my eyes opened, but everything was hazy. It was like being underwater or whatever. I never felt anything like that before. I just remember looking down, seeing the shirt, and something in the bright colors brought me back. I managed to pull the airNAV back up before it dipped for a swim, but not in time to avoid impact."
Something cold stirred inside Léon's stomach. He didn't have any memory of the accident. In fact, he remembered little of what had happened inside the airNAV after he ended his call with Phillip. He had a distant memory of the take-off, then being amazed by the view, then this strong, heavy slumber. Then came the dream and finally walking up on the beach with his throat fucked raw by the ocean water.
"Ah. Found it." Modraniht took a silver something from among the debris and cleaned it with his shirt. "Here, kid." He offered Léon a flask. "It's water. Just gargle and spit it out until the burning goes away."
Léon took the flask. That dream... what if he was to blame for what happened? What if somehow Léon had affected Modrahnit and their airNAV?
A shiver crossed his back as he gargled. He wouldn't be surprised. Léon was an expert in ruining things—and people—with his powers.
"Are you hungry, Léon? I think I saw some banana trees around here."
"Can we even eat them? I mean, we're in Old Continent already, right? Isn't the soil here tainted or—" Léon interrupted himself and closed a hand around his throat, grimacing. It hurt like a motherfucker.
"Eh. Sorry." Modraniht turned around and crouched beside him. "I'll stop asking questions, so don't strain your vocal cords." He clicked his tongue and sighed. "Let me see."
Léon nodded and opened his mouth. Crinkles folded at the corners of Modraniht's eyes when he grimaced.
"Let it rest for some time." He got up, shuffling Léon's short hair. "Keep gargling—gently so you won't hurt your throat even more—and I'm sure it'll be better in the morning." Modraniht looked like an old Canada lynx, with his narrowed eyes and big hands. "And I think you're right about the bananas here." He twisted his lips. "If my memory serves me, we crashed one hour from reaching our destination. It means... we're about nine hundred kilometers from Cidade Santa." Modraniht grimaced. He stood still, seemingly chewing on that thought. He kicked a small bump on the sand. "Shit! This won't do. We'll have to find another way to travel."
Modraniht let out a deep sigh and rubbed his face. He plopped down on the rocky sand and winced. "I'm sorry about the outburst."
Léon shook his head. "It's ok." He felt that frustration too. If they had flown for one more hour, he'd be in his mother's arms right now. Or not, depending on how she decided to explain that lie about Pipo.
The sky overhead was assuming a deep shade of red. The day was ending, and Léon knew how cold the nights in Old Continent could be. So he got up and continued piling up wood, as Modraniht was doing moments ago. With the older man's help, they dug a circle by the end of the shoreline and built a campfire. By the looks of it, none of them had any real knowledge of survival, but having a burning airNAV a few meters away proved to be very useful.
It was already dark when Léon finally relaxed.
Modraniht flinched when he tried to get the flask. "It's hot." His shirt and a pile of palm leaves were stretched on the sand, serving as protection for his and Léon's behinds. With him so close, Léon could study the different tattoo designs covering his arms and chest. They all seemed so serious. Everything was black ink, symbols Léon couldn't recognize and long sentences in all caps.
"Of course it was hot." Léon chuckled, shaking his head.
Without saying a word, Modraniht hammered the flask on the sand, half-burying it. "Let it cool down a little." He sighed and stared at the ocean.
The crashing waves reached Léon's ears, lulling him to sleep. No matter how many chemicals and how dangerous the water had become, the ocean today still had the same calming effect on him as eons ago.
"You have an active trace, don't you?" Modraniht took the flask from the sand and opened it, testing the water temperature against his lower lip. "Warm. This will do." He took a small sip and handed it to Léon. "Drink it. You have to keep hydrated."
Léon drummed his nails on the flask. The image of Lampee, his lost companion, crossed his mind. To push it away again, he hummed. "Don't we have to save it or something? Unless you know where we are and how far we are from the nearest village, I don't think it's smart to waste all the water we have." Léon took a swig and screwed the lid back on. The warm water did wonders to his sore throat.
Modraniht studied his face. There was a dark intelligence in his eyes and a soft, knowing smile on his lips. "I'm just a doctor, not a forest ranger, but... we'll manage. If you don't want to talk about your powers, does that mean you're powerful? You have the shadow trace, perhaps? Or venom? Oh, even better. Perhaps you have that psionic trace thing. The one that controls minds? That one is scary as hell." He rubbed his chin. "Not as scary as the memory trace, though."
As much as he tried to stop himself, Léon chuckled. "Nothing that fancy. Just a matter-based trace," he lied. All that had happened with The Mayor and Toni made Léon realize that telling people his real power trace probably wasn't a good idea. He had to protect his cosmic trace, not expose it.
"I see, I see." Modraniht crossed his arms. "Which one? Dust, earth, fire, or...?"
"Dust. I can create a tiger for support and a scythe for melee combat."
"Huh." Modraniht smirked. "You use it well, your power. I was hoping someone who went to prison would have something interesting like that. The so-called Heroes and Villains are so entertaining. Normal people just don't put enough thought on their power traces as you do."
Léon lowered his eyes. He tore a few glass blades from his side and threw them on the fire. "I didn't use mine very well for a long time. And I lost a good chunk of it before going to prison." His answer had been ambiguous, on purpose. He wasn't referring to how well he controlled his powers. Rather, Léon was thinking about the almost five years he worked as a villain. Stealing, threatening, hijacking... he wasn't proud of that. And he was even less proud of all the damage he had caused because of those powers. But now, after having them stolen... now things were almost normal again. Thank Goddess.
Maybe the voice in his head was right. Maybe he really wasn't worthy of these powers. Maybe it was better to just let them... fade. He would never be as powerful as Rafaela or Toni, anyway. He would never use the cosmic trace as well as they did.
"What about now?" Modraniht said. "Are you ready to use them well?"
Léon's lips parted. The older man was much more perceptive than Léon had thought. "We'll have to wait and see, won't we?" Léon stared at his sand-covered boots and completed in a low voice, "Although maybe... maybe I'm just not fit to have them."
Modraniht's eyes sparked with interest. "C'mon, kid, no need to be so hard on yourself." He patted his arm. "We all make mistakes, eh?"
Not on the same scale as Léon had. Still, to be polite, Léon bobbed his head. "What about your trace?"
"Oh. Mine's grandiose, Léon." He opened his arms and stretched them to the sides. "I'm an all-powerful, very rare, very-seductive cosmic trace wielder!"
Léon choked on his own saliva and coughed while Modraniht laughed.
"Nah, kid. I'm just joking. I haven't seen one of those in... what? Twenty-five years, give or take. Since the last druid village vanished here in Old C., I've heard New Continent had three cosmic trace wielders up there, but I never really saw them in action." He breathed out a chuckle and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'm a bit less flashy and interesting—but I'm rare too." He smirked. "Guess. Go on."
Guess? Léon didn't even remember this guy's first name; how could he guess something like that?
"I'll give you a hint, all right? Think small."
"Small," Léon echoed. He narrowed his eyes and massaged his chin.
"Yes. Very, very small."
"Cellular-level small?"
Modraniht frowned, not holding back a pout. Apparently, he wasn't expecting that question. "Yes."
Léon chuckled. "Okay. You said you're a doctor, and you have some cellular-level trace. It must be a bio-matter trace... or maybe you manipulate things somehow," he whispered. He twisted his lips and pinched his chin. "Do you cure people with your trace?" Léon's smile widened. "Wait, wait, wait. Don't tell me. Assuming you do..."
Modraniht scoffed and shook his head. "All right, all right. You're a smart one; I get it. I have an organelle trace. I can recycle old or sick cells to create new ones."
"Modraniht! I can't believe you told me!" Léon scowled. "I was going to guess it."
"You never would, kid."
"You don't know that!" Léon crossed his arms.
The older man laughed. There was disbelief in his eyes and in the way he shook his head. All around them, cicadas and frogs—or the mutant versions of them—created a natural symphony. "You'd come close, but you'd never guess it. Or I hope you wouldn't. Only one person guessed what my powers are, and I'm married to her." He furrowed his brows. "Besides, I just said I'm the cure for cancer. Will you really ignore that?"
Léon chuckled. "It's an impressive power, Mr. Modraniht. I'm jealous."
Modraniht puffed up his chest and polished his nails on his shirt. "Nah, don't be." He scratched his face and dropped his big hand on his lap. "I was a med student when I discovered it, and I had no idea what to do with a power that let me manipulate cells. It was a slow, tedious process that could take weeks, and I felt ridiculous. And weak. Then my wife showed up in my life and...." He shrugged. "Changed everything. What I mean to say, I guess, is that those power trace things have infinite different applications. You just have to study them well, yeah? You have to think. Think. No matter how powerful your trace is and if you have the talent to control it or not. Hard work and study eventually trample that at some point."
With a soft smile, Léon pulled his knees closer. Where was Modraniht nine years ago? If Léon had heard any of this before, would things be different in his relationship with his own powers?
"Sorry." He let out an embarrassed chortle. "I didn't mean to give you a pep talk out of nowhere; it's just—"
"Thank you, Modraniht," Léon cut in. His smile lingered on his lips when he thought about Rob. He knew about Léon's powers too. In fact, he knew more about them than Léon himself. "It's something special, isn't it? When someone gets you like that?"
Modraniht breathed in and out, saying, "It certainly is, kiddo." He rested a hand on his shoulder. "We'll go back to them, won't we? You to your lover and your family. I to my wife. Eh?" He patted his shoulder. "What do you say? We can start on foot and go looking for a village with wi-fi. Things will be easy once we contact them."
Léon nodded. "Right. We definitely will."