She's Gone

With a heavy wheeze, Wander kept on. Dust had begun to make way into his lungs, making breathing increasingly difficult. Every step he took felt like a million at this point, blood that stained his fur and his worn sandals now feeling as if he were carrying the dead weight of a full-grown Zbornak. The space nomad was on the verge of collapse, but he would stop at nothing until he found what he was looking for.

He stopped to scan the area. Furrowing his brow and squinting his eyes, he tried to make out the forms that silhouetted against the clouds. He forced himself to ignore the bloody massacre that had begun to unfold as the dust cleared. Even now, he still couldn’t find her.

Frustration dared to overcome him, but Wander wouldn’t let such emotions take over now. Suddenly, he winced. Something started prodding at his head with sharp nails. He quickly took his hat off and cupped his head with one hand expecting to grab a sharp object or creature of sorts, but felt only damp hair instead. He took his hand from his head in a bit of a daze, staring at it in realization of what the thick wet that puddled in his palm was.

Blood.

He was wounded. Drops of scarlet began to crust on his unkempt hair, making the space nomad cringe in pain and discomfort. A shot had grazed him, but he didn’t think it was that deep.

With that, exhaustion had begun fighting to take over. Hours of searching had gone by and still nothing. He had recalled the place of their separation over a hundred times, but everywhere he looked it was the same- dirt and death. Maybe it was time to turn around.

Not yet.

Wander was taken aback by a familiar figure that lay in the distance. The strong girth of a wayward warrior, comb slicked back, feet always planted firmly on the ground, prepared for anything that was thrown at them. A Zbornak.

Sylvia.

At last, he had found her.

He sprinted forward having found new energy to embrace his best friend. His heart raced as he increased his speed, having waited for what seemed like forever for this moment. After everything that happened, that’s all he wanted right now. Everything was going to be fine. It was all over.

He neared the Zbornak, but as her figure became clear, Wander stopped dead in his tracks. 

His heart stopped at the sight.

A Zbornak lay limp in the dust, almost unrecognizable. 

Sylvia was bruised, beaten, bleeding. She wasn’t moving.

Wander simply stood there, motionless. Dust caked his hair, sticky as it mixed with his sweat and blood. He couldn’t utter a single word, he couldn’t utter a single sound. He didn’t know what to feel in that very moment.

Fear threatened to consume him like a Doom Dragon ready to attack, but he fought it back. They’ve gone through worse. He walked towards the Zbornak slowly.

"Sylvia?"

She didn’t respond.

Wander approached her silently. He slowly, hesitantly, laid his hand on her own, expecting her familiar warmth. His heart lurched when his hand was met with nothing but icy cold.

No…

Panic gripped his heart as the sudden realization hit him. He covered his mouth with his hand as his breath quickened. His eyes fell on everything but his best friend before him, desperate for another truth. He refused to believe it.

Heart racing, he frantically climbed atop the Zbornak. He closed his eyes for a split second, head turned away, trying to use his words. He looked at her straight in the face, and finally uttered her name.

"…S-Sylvia?"

No response.

Wander couldn’t bare it anymore. His eyes quivered. He wouldn’t believe it. 

He placed his hands under her chin, shakily lifting her head up from the ground. Her eye was bruised, bleeding, and her wounds only became more noticeable. He fiercely fought back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

"Sylvia?! …SYLVIA!"

Nothing. 

The tears finally spilled. Wander could no longer hold it in.

"S-Sylvia… please wake up…! Please! I can’t do this without you…"

Wander stared at Sylvia, his lip trembling, for what seemed like an eternity. He truly believed with all his heart that his tears would wake her up in that moment. His voice would summon her. His feelings would resurrect her. Any second she would open her eyes to make some sarcastic remark, and everything would be okay.

But as Wander held her hand in his own and her head in the other, his best friends’ only response was a trickle of blood that ran down from her nose.

Reality had finally struck. Wander closed his eyes, biting his lip, letting hot tears roll down his cheeks as he lay his head on his best friends’ muzzle.

He broke. 

She’s gone.

And we didn’t even get to say goodbye.