Shadow Hound

by Serenade

Part 3: WEBS

"So what's this 'special exercise' all about?" Zoisite asked, for what must have been the third time. He kicked impatiently at the leaves which lay scattered across the trail they were following.

"Oh, you'll see," said Kunzite. He was enjoying the look of frustration on the other man's face. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

"I'll bet," muttered Zoisite. "Why are we walking, anyway? It'd be faster to teleport there."

"That would be true under normal conditions. But past experience has shown that dimensional gates are dangerously unstable in this area. It's better not to risk them."

"There's something wrong with this place, then?" Zoisite cast his gaze around the forest apprehensively.

"Don't be afraid," Kunzite said sardonically. "You're safe with me."

"I feel better already."

Kunzite almost smiled at that, but restrained himself. He couldn't afford to let himself get too comfortable around Zoisite.

It should have been irritating, having the man constantly hanging over his shoulder. But oddly enough, he was getting used to Zoisite's volatile presence. And Zoisite refused to be ignored: attacking him with questions, challenging his answers, avidly involving himself in the processes of Kunzite's life. He hadn't realised how solitary his days usually were.

And then there was the sparring session of the previous week. It had been unsettling, and he didn't want to think about why.

He needed to spend some time alone. Perhaps work on his special projects. He had, to his shame, been neglecting his Shadow Hounds. He should see to them, before Nephrite could say 'I told you so.'

He increased his pace, forcing Zoisite to hurry to keep up. Before long, they both emerged into a grassy clearing, wet with morning mist. The trees were hung with long twists of vines bearing tiny scarlet blossoms.

Kunzite looked about in satisfaction. "This is it."

Zoisite stopped just behind him. "We're having today's practice here?" He dumped to the ground the blades Kunzite had made him carry.

"We're not. You are."

Kunzite conjured up a glowing ball of energy, and hurled it into the nearest cluster of vines. The vines suddenly exploded into a mass of writhing tendrils, twisting in the air like Medusa's snakes.

Zoisite swore, taking a step backwards. "What the hell is this, Kunzite?"

Kunzite had already picked up his blade and was striding towards the animated vines. "Allow me to demonstrate." As the first tendril lashed out at him, he turned and sliced it in two. He dodged as another one shot past him, then smoothly severed it as well.

As he wove between the dancing tendrils, his blade flashing out to dismember them, he caught sight of Zoisite watching him from a distance, open-mouthed. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the astonishment on the younger man's face, before he called out, "Zoisite, get over here!"

"What?"

"Come here. Now. This is a part of your training." As Zoisite hesitated, he added pleasantly, "You wouldn't want Beryl to think you were shirking your duties, would you?"

Zoisite cursed him, but came forward anyway, his blade held firmly in his hand. At his approach, a number of tendrils veered towards him, and he swung at them savagely with his blade. Surprisingly, it seemed that Zoisite could be a vicious little fighter when he chose.

While Zoisite was occupied, Kunzite managed to disengage from his own attackers and withdraw to the outskirts of the clearing. Only after a little while did Zoisite appear to notice that he was now fighting alone.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

Kunzite was strapping his sheathed blade to his belt, preparing to leave. "Where do you think I'm going?"

"You can't just abandon me!" As Zoisite took a step towards him, a new wave of tendrils rose, separating the two men.

"Is that so? I don't think you can stop me."

Zoisite was looking at him in pure outrage. "You're really going to leave me here?" He jumped back as a tendril snaked towards him, and he lopped it off with his blade.

Kunzite chuckled. "Think of it as real-life practice. In this profession, you're either good, or you're dead."

"What are you going to tell Beryl when she asks what happened to me?" His challenging tone did not quite mask the underlying fear.

He thinks I'm leaving him here to die. "Never fear, I'll be back for you in a couple of hours. I have a few things I need to take care of in the meantime."

"What if I'm plant food in a few hours?" Zoisite demanded. He slashed at another tangle of blindly seeking tendrils.

"Oh, don't worry," Kunzite said blandly. "These plants don't eat full-grown youma, just small animals. The tendrils may sting if they hit you, but the most they'll do is leave a rash. Which would be a shame, on your pretty white skin."

While Zoisite stared at him, speechless, Kunzite decided to make good his exit. As he strode off, he wondered what had possessed him to use that last throwaway line. 'Pretty white skin' - really, Kunzite. Since when did you pay attention to things like that?

to be continued in Part 4: THORNS