Chapter Four

The defiance in its eyes flickered.

This animal seemed entirely different than the ones Petra had encountered all his life. Its head was turned, staring at him. Daring him to make a move. It also seemed unbothered by Petra’s lantern. And the creature gave off an eerie, unpredictable sort of energy. Petra could be unpredictable too. He’d have to be in order to gain the upper hand.

Beside him, the girl’s body had started to move. She tried to raise herself on one arm, the other was collapsed beneath her.

“Stay down,” Petra urged gently. He wasn’t sure if she could hear him.

The cockatrice seemed to be waiting for the girl to leave the water. Now that Petra had interrupted its plans, he wondered if it would change tactics. It was just a matter of who would strike first.

Slowly reaching a hand behind his back, he loosened a pocket knife from where it was concealed in his belt. The creature gave a warning growl, which rose to a shriek that was swiftly cut off—

In a matter of seconds, it slumped over and dropped into the creek with Petra’s knife protruding from its breast. “Forgive me,” he sighed.

They weren’t out of the water yet. Quite literally. More cockatri had started to gather with resentful caution. But the girl couldn’t afford to wait any longer. There was no telling how long she had been trapped while the icy water took its toll.

“I’m going to lift you out now!” Petra called over to her. She winced at the sound of his voice. When Petra bent forward to pull the girl up from the murky tangle of reeds, she began to flail in his grasp like a dinner-bound salmon. “Hey—no—hold still—I’m not gonna hurt you!” He barred his arms against her struggling with the strength of two steel beams. Detainment was part of Petra’s job after all. But he hoped she could sense he was trying to be kind about it.

“I’m only bringing you over here. See? The cockatri won’t get us while I have this lamp going.” The young patrol officer hoped he believed his own words. The boldest of the cockatri was dead, but he wouldn’t let his guard down around the others.

Petra eased the girl back down onto a dry spot at the creek’s edge. He went right to work checking for injuries as he’d been taught.

☁︎☁︎☁︎

“Where does the Azur go when someone is afraid, Petra? Do you remember where it goes first?” Petra sat at the kitchen counter dangling his legs from a stool. His mother had her back turned to him whilst slicing blumpoe skins into a pot. “Tulip?”

“To the eyes.” Petra replied with disinterest. “When someone’s scared we have to look them in the eyes, and that makes them feel better—or something.”

“Very good, sweetheart.” Petra groaned. “The eyes have an effect on the heart,” his mother continued. “When people are afraid their heart beats too fast, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So when we look people in the eyes, we want to use our Azur to slow their heartbeat down. That’s always the first thing we want to do. It makes the rest of the job much easier.”

“What’s the point of telling me about stuff I’ll never be able to do, Ma?” Celeste paused from cutting her vegetables. She turned to look back at him.

“Come over here, Tulip.” Petra sighed and dragged himself over to his mother. “Take over for me, will you?”

“Are you making blumpoe bisque?”

“With biscuits,” Celeste smiled. Petra thought about it.

“—And chocolate peaches for dessert?”

“Maybe—” she tussled the sun-burnt grass that adorned his head. “If you can fool your father into thinking he’s eating my cooking.”

“Easy!” Petra giggled. All I gotta do is put a bunch of this in it.” He grabbed a jar of commercial “Tuchus Tamer” from off the shelf and thrust it at his mother. Celeste gasped and pulled Petra into a headlock.

“Petra Mattias Vingarde! Are you suggesting my food is what makes your poor Apa run to the toilet after supper!” Petra worked up a storm of maniacal giggles while Celeste attacked his ticklish spots. “That is not what I meant! I’ll have you know he does all that to himself. He drowns my cooking in fire sauce!”

As the pair were jostling about, they heard a sudden tapping at the kitchen window. A little boy wearing a white tunic was peering in expectantly.

“Mrs. Vingarde?” he called from the other side. “Is Petra coming to lessons today?” Celeste turned to her son.

“Do you feel like going today, Petra?” Petra glanced over at the boiling pot on the stove, and then hesitantly to his friend at the window.

“Well—I, I dunno—What about dinner?”

“Dinner will still be waiting for you when you get back, dear.”

“But you did ask me to take over. I won’t put anything silly in it, I promise.” Celeste withheld a rising bout of sympathy.

“Should I tell Harley you don’t feel up to it today?”

“I guess. Tell him I’m sorry, too.”

“I’m sure they’ll be no need.”

When Celeste had returned from speaking with Harley, she found Petra sitting under the table with his head in his knees. “Oh the things you make your mother do,” she sighed, ducking down to fit under the table beside him.

“I know this is hard. I think everyone just isn’t sure what to do with you right now. They want you to still go to Generate training because they’re hoping your ability might just appear one day.”

“But it won’t, will it?” Celeste chose her response carefully.

“I don’t think hoping for it will help you as much. That’s why I always tell you to wake up each day and forget you’re an Azurite.”

“And do everything like regular people?”

“Exactly. So how would someone with no Azur calm someone else down?” Petra rested the side of his head on his hugged knees. He looked towards his mother.

“I’d just say—

You’re going to be alright.”

A shimmer of hazel caught the light as the girl met his gaze. For a moment, she froze and her tremoring stopped. But with the lantern on the ground beside her, she managed to glimpse at the blood running down her own arm. The sight startled the girl and her breaths began to come in quick and ragged.

“Don’t look—don’t look! You’re fine, I promise.” Petra hoped it would only be a temporary lie. He had no idea of the full extent of her injuries.

“Can you tell me your name?” She tried. But after struggling to form the words, she resorted to tugging at something tied around her neck.

“Oh, what’s this?” He leaned in closer. “Er—may I?” Petra pulled at the chord that was tucked beneath her shirt. Attached to the chord was a paper tag. It was an old luggage tag, to be exact. On one side it displayed a blank “Send To:” label. One the other side the word: “Amber” was written in thick, dark, letters.

Petra wasn’t sure what to make of such a thing. He had certainly never seen a tag of this nature hanging off of a human.

“Is this your name?” he asked, flipping it over to the “Amber” side. The girl nodded. “I see. It’s a nice name,” he smiled. “Mine is Petra. Petra Vingarde, Officer of C.D.P,” he added, hoping it might make her feel more secure.

“Well then Amber, we’re about to get out of here. I’m just going to wrap your arm first so we can—” Shit. He patted at his waist where his tools normally would’ve been. Petra had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t on duty.

After a few moments of hastily scanning the forest floor for a bandage substitute, his own arm caught his attention.

That would do it.

“Give me just a second.” The girl watched Petra clamber back towards the stream and return with the blade he’d used to dispatch the cockatrice. Her eyes widened as she witnessed Petra proceed to cut into the shoulder of his sleeve.

The outfit he was wearing was known as an anti-fatigue, or "contour" top. Black, flame-resistant, form-fitting but flexible—the quintessential clothing “il faut” for surviving a dragon’s world. It’s quality ensured that it did not cut easily. But with deadly persistence, Petra managed to sever his left sleeve, and use it to wrap Amber’s arm just as good as with the standard material.

Hoisting her up onto his back, the boy peered out into the dark expanse. “You holdin up okay?” Amber nodded. Petra took a breath, allowing himself to digest the reality of the situation: it was well past midnight, he had work in a few hours, and instead of buying dessert, he’d stolen the dessert from a wild animal.

Do things like normal people—can’t say it’s going well for me, Ma.

Amber began to fidget.

“Right then. Hang in there, Amber. I’m going to take you to see someone that I think might be able to help.”