~~~ Several Hours after the Ambush ~~~

The small fire lit the shallow cave, flaring as Mark sturred the flames. He grunted, rubbing his sore side as he leaned over, grabbing one of the drier pieces of wood from the nearby pile and tossed it into the flames. His eyes scanned the darkness outside before he glanced deeper into the cave. 

There, sleeping on a pile of clothes and furs, was the figure of a small girl. The light of the fire glistened off her pale, clammy skin as she tossed and turned in the claws of some nightmare. Mark could only stare, unable to offer any help for either the girl's sickness or dreams. 

As he watched the little girl drawing in ragged, wet breaths, his grip on the thin branch began to tighten until a few drops of blood leaked through his white knuckles. The sound of a snapping branch near the cave entrance instantly drew Mark's attention, his free hand falling on the hilt of the rusty blade. In the firelight, a young man, stripped of the armor he had been wearing just hours before, stood by the entrance, arms raised, a dirty shovel still clenched in one hand. 

The young man leaned the shovel up against the wall and spoke to Mark in a hushed voice, careful not to wake the sleeping girl.

"It's done. I can't say it is respectable, but at least we'll not have to worry about their bodies being eaten by some stray beast. We... I'll return after I've informed the proper authorities of the attack. I might not have known them for very long, but I feel it's the least I can do. Especially for.... "

His eyes silently drifted towards the figure of the small girl but said no more. The young man sat down some distance from the fire, his body sagging as if released from some immense pressure. A moment of silence passed before the young man asked in a solemn voice, his eyes staring out into the darkness. 

"How is she?"

Mark did not answer immediately, instead staring into the flames as if contemplating his words... He spoke after a moment, his voice low and without emotion,

"It's infected. Whatever it is, it's spreading fast. I'm no medic, but I've seen enough to know she'll probably not last the night."

The young man twisted his head towards Mark, staring at the man in anger, before standing and pointing at him accusingly. 

"What the hell is your problem!? So what? Are we going to do nothing?! You're speaking like it's none of your concern; why did you bother saving her if you are just going to give up and let her die?!"

The Hero was unsure what to think when he first met the strangely dressed man on the roadside. On the one hand, his sudden and inexplicable appearance and strange fighting style sent red flags off in the Hero's mind. What were the chances that on a lonely road like this, after days of travel seeing only the occasional person, there just happened to be someone close by at the very moment they were ambushed? 

One who was able to go toe to toe, unarmed even, against possibly the most skilled Forest Goblin he'd ever lied eyes on? One he'd have personally struggled against, himself. 

On the other, he had put his life on the line for complete strangers and asked nothing of return for it. No goods from the carriage, no coin or spoils, nothing. The man had simply helped clear the road of bodies, hid the carriage in the woods and carried the girl to the cave without a word spoken between them; as if it had been an average day. 

The Hero was left with a strange mixed feeling of gratitude, suspicion, and frustration.

Mark looked up at the young man and spoke in the same half-shout, half-whisper, the fire reflecting in his eyes.

"And what do you expect me to do!?"

The Hero opened his mouth as in rebuttal, but before he could, Mark looked back at the fire and spoke, this time his voice rumbling with barely controlled fury,

"We've already gone through the carriage twice; there's nothing there we can use. Not for something like this. And if you're right, the nearest town is still a day's ride away. Are you going to run the rest of the way? In the dark? Do you know if those... things are still out there? Even if you can make it, how long will it take you to report this? 

How long will it take for someone to mount an appropriate response? Would they even be able to make it back as quickly as you? Or you think you're gonna pull some kinda miracle out of your crack?! This isn't a story, boy! Sometimes there ISN'T a solution!" 

Mark went quiet, his breathing heavy, as he slowly turned back to face the flames, the fire in his eyes slowly dying. After a moment of silence, he finished, his voice once more cold. 

"Sometimes... people die... and no matter how hard you try, there's nothing you can do about it..."

The Hero felt as if a cold wind blew across his soul. He slowly closed his mouth and leaned against the cool stone wall. He slowly sank back to the floor as his legs lost the power to support him. Slowly, the Hero lay his head silently on his knees as his body began to shake faintly in the firelight.

Mark stood up with a grunt after several minutes of silence, reaching down to grab his discarded coat. The young Hero did not even bother to look up at Mark as he passed by and walked into the quickly cooling night.

 Mark stood there at the boundary of the campfire and the darkness of the night, looking up into the night sky. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to fire raging in him. Mark raised a hand and tightly gripped his chest as if it try and smother the ache in his heart. It served him right, he figured, what with sticking his nose in things like this... again.

The man took another deep breath, focusing on the meditation and breathing techniques he'd picked up over the years. Silently, he tried to focus his mind on something else. In this case, he looked up at the stars, mentally mapping the different constellations he'd learned. 

There was Orian... Ursa Major... Draco... Cepheus... one by one, he located and named them off, almost chanting their names as he slowly wrestled control of his emotions. But what drew his attention the most was the sight of something his brain told him shouldn't be. 

Hanging in the night sky, where there should have been a bright and shining full Moon, three distinct chunks of rock were starting to cover the eastern sky. Dozens of smaller, less visible fragments floating between them, and at the celestial bodies peak, the formation seemed like it would take up nearly a quarter of the sky.

 It was as if someone what taken a bat to a crystal globe and left the piece in the sky. When he had first seen it a few hours ago, he'd even questioned if what he was seeing was real. That maybe this entire day had not just been some kind of pill-induced nightmare. 

It would explain the furry green men and the weirdos hiking in armor, chopping people up with swords... 

Mark gave the slight a final glance before stumbling out into the darkness and onto the dimly lit pathway. He arrived at the stone bridge a few moments later, taking only a moment to scan the area for danger before walking towards the opposite side of the road. The man shifted around the dense bushes for a few moments before a bright yellow flower caught his eye in the 'moonlight.'

He bent down to inspect the flower, giving it a nod. Hands stiff from the cold and body still aching, he slowly extracted the plant, roots and all. Mark was years out of practice when it came to wilderness survival, but he was sure he remembered that Pot Marigold could be processed into a basic tincture. The equipment pulled from the carriage was primitive, but maybe... just maybe, they could buy a little time. 

Mark slowly brushing the dirt off of the plant, careful not to damage it. He looked down at the small flower, deep in thought, when a familiar sound came from his pocket. In both shock and confusion, Mark froze in mid-swipe before pulling the old flip phone from his pocket. A bright LED display flashed a two-word message at him as the phone continued to ring. 

Unknown Number.

Mark stared at the strange yet familiar sight in front of him, unsure of what was going on, when an unfamiliar voice called out from behind him,

"Are you going to answer that?"

Mark made a sudden tuck and roll motion to his left, grabbing a large rock as he did so. With a practiced throw, he sent the stone flying towards the unseen voice. Mark corrected his roll and entered a combat-ready stance as he heard the sound of a heavy impact, stone on flesh. 

What he saw next, however, left him in shock, his mouth hanging open. Leaning up against a nearby tree stood a calm man in clean and casual-looking clothes, his outstretched hand gripping the large stone. The Stranger held a newer model smartphone to his head, its bright LED screen casing the man's face in shadows. 

The Stranger pushed himself away from the tree as he closed his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Mark's phone stopped ringing at the exact moment. The Stranger leisurely tossed the stone in the air, and when he spoke, his voice was strangely clear to Mark, despite the distance.

"You always had a knack for the Curveball, Mark. I'm glad to see you've not lost your touch".

Mark raised his eyebrow at the Stranger's overly familiar tone. He didn't bother to lower his guard as he squinted his eyes at the new arrival, trying to see through the darkness. Slowly, Mark made his way towards the middle of the road if he needed the space. 

"Do I know you?"

The Stranger looked at Mark with a strange look in his eyes, then spoke in a small voice,

"No. but I know you, Sergeant Floyd. 

Sergeant Mark Floyd, 3rd Battalion, 338th Regiment, 157th Infantry Brigade. Second son of Debra and Samuel Floyd. 31 this October."

The Stranger spoke as if reading off a list, watching Mark's jaw fall open. The Stranger paused for a moment before speaking again, a mysterious smile forming.

"5'11, 195lb. Your favorite color is dark green, and your favorite drink is mint tea in scotch. Should I go on?"

Mark's mouth slowly closed as he stared daggers at the Stranger in front of him. His voice trembled as he tried to speak out in a threatening manner,

"Who the hell are you?! Did Max send you after me? I told him before that I'm not going to work for him; I don't care how much he's paying".

The newcomer tossed the stone away and looked at Mark with a smirk before answering.

"I'm not with the Black Dogs, Mark. They can't reach you here anyway."

As the newcomer spoke, he pointed up towards the sky. Mark's eyes followed the motion and his eyes landed on the strange splintered Moon. Mark felt his blood go cold and his body shiver as he watched the shards drift slowly through the sky. The Strangers clothes and phone, coupled with him seeming to know Mark, had made Mark forget for a moment that wherever he was, he doubted it was Kansas anymore. Mark forcefully quelled his shaking body, then lowered his gaze and asked in a quiet voice.

"Who are you?"