The road home wasn't really a road.
It was more like a long, uneven stretch of dirt that had been walked on so many times it had decided to stay that way. It curved when it felt like it, dipped where the ground gave in, and disappeared entirely in places before showing up again like nothing had happened.
Measly the Armadillo knew it well.
He walked it with small, steady steps, his shoes kicking up little puffs of dust every now and then. His arms swung just a bit too wide, like he was trying to look more confident than he felt.
Beside him—well, not exactly beside him—Raymond the Flying Squirrel moved in a way that didn't match walking at all.
One moment he'd be there, the next he'd leap ahead, catching a low branch and gliding down again with a soft whoosh before landing crookedly and nearly tripping over his own feet.
"Careful," Measly said, glancing over. "You're gonna fall again."
"I didn't fall," Raymond shot back immediately, brushing off his shirt like something important had happened. "I landed wrong on purpose."
Measly blinked.
"…That don't make sense."
"It does too."
Raymond puffed up slightly, then jumped again—this time catching a branch a little higher up. He stretched out, gliding for a longer moment before dropping back down, landing with a stumble he tried very hard to pretend didn't happen.
"See?" he said.
Measly stared at him.
"…You almost ate dirt."
"I didn't!" Raymond insisted.
Measly didn't argue further. He just shook his head slightly and kept walking.
The two of them had been on this path for a while now.
Long enough that the sun had started leaning lower in the sky, painting everything in softer colors. The air felt warmer than it had earlier, but there was a breeze now—just enough to rustle the leaves and make the world feel like it was moving around them.
It should've been normal.
It almost was.
But something felt off.
Measly couldn't say what it was.
Not exactly.
He just—
Felt it.
Like when you walk into a room and everyone stops talking.
Like when something should be there, but isn't.
Raymond seemed to notice it too.
He wasn't jumping as much now.
Walking more.
Closer.
"…You think they're still talkin' about it?" Raymond asked after a while.
Measly shrugged.
"Probably."
"About that king kid?"
"…Yeah."
Raymond kicked a small rock, watching it bounce ahead of them.
"They said he's like… five."
"Five and some," Measly said. "That's what I heard."
Raymond frowned.
"That's not old enough to be a king."
Measly didn't answer right away.
"…Guess it is now," he said after a moment.
Raymond didn't look convinced.
He glanced up at the sky, then ahead at the path, then back at Measly.
"You think he's real?"
Measly shrugged again.
"People don't talk like that if it ain't real."
Raymond went quiet.
For a bit, the only sound was their footsteps and the wind moving through the trees.
Then—
"…My ma said things are gonna get worse," Raymond said, quieter this time.
Measly's ears dipped slightly.
"…Yeah," he replied.
"My pa said to stay close to the house more."
"Mine too."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
The path curved slightly ahead, leading them closer to where the trees began to thin out.
Beyond that—
Their village.
Small.
Simple.
Safe.
Or at least—
It used to be.
Measly's steps slowed just a little.
Raymond noticed.
"…You hear that?" Raymond asked.
Measly stopped.
Listened.
At first—
Nothing.
Then—
Something.
Distant.
Not wind.
Not animals.
Something… heavier.
Rhythmic.
Boots.
Measly's stomach tightened.
"…That ain't right," he said quietly.
Raymond's ears flattened slightly.
They moved closer together without thinking.
The path ahead opened just enough that they could see through the last line of trees—
And into the edge of the village.
Figures.
Not villagers.
Too uniform.
Too structured.
Too many.
Overlander Supremacist soldiers.
Marching.
Not passing through.
Not stopping.
Marching into.
Raymond grabbed Measly's arm.
"…What're they doin'?" he whispered.
Measly didn't answer.
Because he was watching.
Because he was listening.
Because the moment hadn't broken yet—
Until it did.
A shout.
Sharp.
Harsh.
Not a warning.
An order.
Then—
Movement.
Fast.
Violent.
A villager ran.
Didn't make it far.
The sound that followed—
Measly flinched.
Raymond's grip tightened.
"…No," Raymond whispered.
More shouting.
More movement.
Doors forced open.
Things breaking.
Voices—
Crying out.
Then stopping.
Measly's breath came faster now.
"…We gotta—" Raymond started.
"No," Measly said immediately, grabbing him back.
"We can't just—"
"NO."
It came out louder than Measly meant.
But he didn't let go.
He pulled Raymond back—off the path, into the thicker part of the trees, where shadows hid more than light revealed.
"Stay down," Measly whispered, urgent now. "Stay down!"
Raymond hesitated—
Then dropped beside him, both of them crouching low behind a cluster of thick roots and brush.
From there—
They could still see.
Not everything.
But enough.
Too much.
The soldiers spread through the village.
Not searching.
Not asking.
Taking.
Breaking.
Ending.
A figure moved into view.
Familiar.
Measly's breath caught.
"…Ma…" he whispered.
She stood in the center of the road, uniform still on, posture firm despite everything happening around her.
His father was beside her.
Both of them.
Both police officers.
Both standing their ground.
Even now.
Even like this.
Raymond looked at him.
"…Measly…" he started.
But Measly didn't hear him.
He couldn't.
Because everything else had gone quiet.
Not outside.
Inside.
His mother said something.
He couldn't hear it.
His father stepped forward.
The soldiers didn't stop.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't care.
Measly's hand clenched into the dirt.
Raymond grabbed his arm again—harder this time.
"Don't," Raymond whispered, voice shaking. "Don't—"
Measly didn't move.
Couldn't.
Because if he did—
He knew—
He wouldn't stop.
The moment broke.
Fast.
Brutal.
Final.
Measly's ears rang.
The world blurred.
But he didn't look away.
He couldn't.
He watched—
As everything he knew—
Everything that had been steady—
Collapsed in front of him.
Raymond pulled him down further, both of them pressing closer to the ground, hidden beneath shadow and leaves and fear.
The village burned.
The soldiers moved on.
And in the forest—
Two small figures stayed still.
Did not move.
Did not speak.
Because if they did—
They would be seen.
And if they were seen—
They would be next.
So they stayed.
Hidden.
Silent.
As the world they knew ended just beyond the trees.
-------
The soldiers did not stay.
That was the strangest part.
For something so loud—for something that tore through the village with such force—it did not linger. It did not settle. It did not claim the space it had broken.
It moved on.
Boots continued their steady rhythm.
Voices faded—not into silence, but into distance.
The sharp edges of commands and movement dulled as they carried farther down the road, beyond the houses, beyond the edge of what Measly could see through the trees.
And still—
He didn't move.
Raymond didn't either.
The two of them stayed pressed into the forest floor, bodies low, breaths shallow, as if even the air might give them away if they took too much of it at once.
Time stretched.
It lost its shape.
Seconds felt long.
Minutes felt longer.
The village—
What was left of it—
Crackled faintly in the distance.
Something burned.
Something collapsed.
But no voices followed.
No footsteps returned.
Eventually—
Raymond shifted first.
Just a little.
"…I think they're gone," he whispered.
Measly didn't answer.
He was still staring.
Still looking at where—
Where—
Raymond swallowed.
"…Measly," he tried again, softer this time.
Nothing.
Raymond's hand reached out slowly, hesitating for just a second before resting on Measly's arm.
"…We can't stay here forever," he said.
That—
That finally did something.
Not much.
But enough.
Measly blinked.
Once.
Then again.
Like he was remembering how.
His fingers were still dug into the dirt.
He didn't seem to notice.
"…They're gone," Raymond repeated, a little firmer now.
Measly's gaze shifted.
Not fully.
Just enough to break away from that one place he'd been locked onto.
"…Yeah," he said.
His voice didn't sound like it usually did.
It was quieter.
Flat.
Like something had been taken out of it.
Raymond nodded slightly, even though Measly wasn't really looking at him.
"Okay," he said. "Okay… so we just—"
He didn't finish.
Because there wasn't really a "just."
Not anymore.
Measly pulled his hand out of the dirt slowly.
It left small grooves behind.
He stared at them for a second.
Then pushed himself up.
His legs wobbled.
He steadied.
Raymond stood too, sticking close—closer than before, like if he didn't, something might pull them apart.
They both looked toward the village.
Neither of them moved right away.
Because once they did—
They couldn't pretend anymore.
Measly took the first step.
Slow.
Careful.
Like the ground might break if he didn't.
Raymond followed.
They left the cover of the trees together.
The path they had walked so many times before didn't feel the same now.
It felt longer.
Heavier.
Wrong.
The closer they got—
The quieter it felt.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
The kind of quiet that came after everything had already happened.
The first house they passed—
The door hung open.
One hinge broken.
The inside dark.
Neither of them looked in.
They kept walking.
Another house.
The windows shattered.
Something overturned inside.
Still no sound.
No movement.
No voices.
Raymond's hand found the back of Measly's shirt, gripping it lightly.
Not pulling.
Just… holding on.
Measly didn't say anything about it.
Didn't tell him to stop.
They turned the corner—
And the center of the village came into view.
Measly's steps slowed again.
Then stopped.
Raymond bumped lightly into him from behind.
"…Measly…" he whispered.
Measly didn't respond.
His eyes moved.
Not all at once.
Slowly.
Taking in everything.
The road.
The buildings.
The—
He forced his gaze away.
Because if he looked too long—
He knew—
He wouldn't be able to move again.
"…We gotta check," Raymond said, his voice small now.
"Check what?" Measly asked.
The question came out sharper than he meant it to.
Raymond flinched slightly.
"…If… if anyone's okay."
Measly's jaw tightened.
"…Yeah," he said after a moment.
Because even if he didn't believe it—
He had to look.
They moved again.
Slower now.
More careful.
They checked the first house.
Nothing.
The second.
Nothing.
Each door they pushed open felt heavier than the last.
Each room quieter.
Still.
Too still.
Raymond stopped asking questions after a while.
He just followed.
Stayed close.
Didn't let go.
Measly turned down another path.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
His house.
It came into view slowly.
The front door—
Closed.
Not broken.
Not open.
Just… closed.
Measly stopped again.
His breath caught.
"…They might've…" Raymond started, hope flickering just a little.
Measly didn't let him finish.
He moved forward.
Faster now.
Not running.
But close.
His hand reached the door.
Paused.
Just for a second.
Then—
He pushed it open.
It creaked.
Slow.
Loud in the silence.
The inside was dim.
Shadows stretched across the floor.
Things were out of place.
Not destroyed.
But disturbed.
Measly stepped in.
Raymond followed, quieter than before.
"Ma?" Measly called.
No answer.
"Pa?"
Nothing.
The silence pressed in.
Raymond swallowed.
"…Check the back?" he whispered.
Measly nodded.
They moved through the house.
Each step careful.
Each turn hesitant.
The kitchen—
Empty.
The hallway—
Still.
Measly's chest tightened with every room they passed.
Because the answer was becoming clearer with each one.
And he didn't want it to be.
They reached the last door.
The smallest room.
Measly's hand trembled slightly as he reached for it.
Raymond didn't say anything.
Didn't move.
Just stayed right there.
Measly pushed the door open.
It swung inward.
Slow.
Quiet.
And inside—
A cradle.
Small.
Wooden.
Rocking gently.
Back.
And forth.
Back.
And forth.
Measly froze.
Raymond blinked.
"…What…" he started.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Small.
Alive.
Measly's breath hitched.
"…Tillie?" he whispered.
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Careful.
Like if he moved too fast, she might disappear.
He reached the cradle.
Looked inside.
And there she was.
Tiny.
Wrapped.
Eyes half-open.
Unaware.
Unhurt.
Alive.
Measly didn't move for a second.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't think.
Then—
His hands moved.
Careful.
Gentle.
He lifted her.
She made a small noise.
Shifted slightly.
But didn't cry.
Didn't panic.
She just—
Was.
Raymond let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"…She's okay," he whispered.
Measly held her close.
Tighter than he meant to.
Then adjusted.
Gentler.
His arms steadied.
His grip firm.
Protective.
"…Yeah," he said.
His voice shook.
Just a little.
"…She's okay."
The room stayed quiet.
The house stayed still.
The village outside—
Didn't change.
But in that moment—
In that one small space—
There was something left.
Something that hadn't been taken.
Something that hadn't been broken.
Measly looked down at her.
Then up.
Toward the door.
Toward everything waiting beyond it.
His grip tightened just slightly.
And this time—
When he moved—
He didn't hesitate.
-------
The cradle slowed to a stop behind them.
Back and forth—
Then still.
Measly stood in the middle of the room with Tillie in his arms, the small weight of her pressed against his chest. She shifted once, a tiny movement, her fingers curling weakly into the fabric of his shirt like she didn't even know she was doing it.
But she held on.
That—
That was enough.
Raymond stayed near the doorway, not stepping too far in, like the room itself carried something heavy he didn't want to disturb. His eyes moved from Measly to Tillie and back again, wide, unsure, trying to understand how something so small could still be here when everything else—
Wasn't.
"…She didn't even cry," Raymond said quietly.
Measly didn't answer right away.
He was looking down at her.
At how small she was.
At how new she was.
She didn't know.
Didn't know what had happened.
Didn't know what was gone.
Didn't know what had been taken from her before she'd even had the chance to understand it.
His jaw tightened.
"…She don't know yet," he said.
Raymond shifted his weight slightly.
"…Is that good?" he asked.
Measly's grip adjusted—just a little tighter before he forced himself to loosen it again so he didn't hurt her.
"…Yeah," he said after a moment.
A pause.
Then quieter—
"…For now."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was full.
Full of things neither of them could say.
Full of things they didn't know how to say.
Measly turned slowly, stepping toward the doorway.
Raymond moved aside immediately, giving him space without thinking about it.
They stepped out into the hall together.
The house felt different now.
Not just quiet.
Final.
Measly stopped just before the front door.
He didn't open it.
Not yet.
His eyes drifted around the room.
The table.
The chair.
The place where things used to be.
His throat tightened.
Raymond watched him.
Didn't interrupt.
Didn't rush him.
Because something was happening.
Something important.
Measly looked down at Tillie again.
Then—
His gaze shifted.
Toward the door.
Toward the outside.
Toward everything that had changed.
And something in him—
Shifted with it.
Not all at once.
Not loudly.
But completely.
"…I was too weak," he said.
Raymond blinked.
"…What?"
Measly didn't look at him.
"I shoulda done somethin'," he continued. "I saw it. I was right there."
Raymond's expression tightened.
"…Measly, you couldn't—"
"I could've tried."
The words came sharper this time.
Not at Raymond.
At himself.
Raymond stepped forward slightly.
"You would've died," he said.
Measly's jaw clenched.
"…Yeah."
A beat.
"…I know."
That didn't make it better.
Didn't make it go away.
Didn't change what he felt.
His grip on Tillie steadied.
Not tighter.
Stronger.
More certain.
"…But that ain't gonna happen again."
Raymond frowned slightly.
"…What do you mean?"
Measly finally looked at him.
And there was something different in his eyes now.
Something that hadn't been there before.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Not even just anger.
Something deeper.
Something decided.
"I'm gonna get stronger," Measly said.
The words were simple.
But they didn't waver.
"For you," he added, nodding slightly toward Raymond.
Then he looked down at Tillie.
"For her."
His voice dropped just a little.
"…And for them."
He didn't have to say who.
Raymond swallowed.
"…Stronger how?" he asked.
Measly shook his head slightly.
"I don't know yet," he admitted.
That was the truth.
He didn't have a plan.
Didn't have a path.
Didn't even really know where to start.
But that didn't matter.
Because the decision had already been made.
"I'll figure it out," he said.
And this time—
There was no hesitation at all.
Raymond stared at him for a moment.
Then nodded slowly.
"…Okay."
He didn't argue.
Didn't try to stop him.
Because something in Measly made it clear—
This wasn't something that could be talked out of him.
This was something that had already taken root.
Raymond shifted again, glancing at Tillie.
"…What about her?" he asked.
Measly looked down.
His expression softened—just slightly.
"I'll protect her," he said.
Not try.
Not hope to.
Will.
Raymond nodded again.
"…And me?" he asked, a little quieter.
Measly met his eyes.
"You too."
A small pause.
Then—
Raymond gave a tiny, almost relieved smile.
"…Good."
They stood there for a moment longer.
Then Raymond tilted his head slightly.
"…Hey," he said.
Measly raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Raymond hesitated.
"…Your name. Or well, your nickname..."
Measly frowned.
"What about it?"
Raymond shrugged a little.
"…You know what it means, right?"
Measly's expression didn't change.
"…Yeah."
Small.
Weak.
Not important.
He knew.
He'd always known.
Raymond shifted awkwardly.
"…You ever think about changin' it?"
The question hung there.
Simple.
But heavy in its own way.
Measly looked at him.
Then—
He shook his head.
"No."
Raymond blinked.
"…No?"
"No."
Measly turned slightly, adjusting Tillie in his arms so she rested more comfortably.
"I'm keepin' it."
Raymond frowned, confused.
"…Why?"
Measly looked toward the door again.
Toward the outside.
Toward the world that had just taken everything from him—
And left him standing anyway.
His eyes hardened.
Not in anger.
In certainty.
"…Because when they run," he said slowly, "when they're scared—"
His grip steadied.
His voice didn't shake.
"…And they ask who did it—"
He glanced down at Tillie.
Then back at Raymond.
"…They're gonna say my name."
Raymond's breath caught slightly.
Measly stepped forward.
Finally opening the door.
Light spilled in.
The world outside waiting.
Broken.
Changed.
Real.
"…And everyone will see how 'Measly' I am," Measly finished.
He stepped out.
Raymond followed.
And behind them—
The house stayed silent.
But ahead—
Something new had begun.