TREVOR
Trevor had heard Apollo's kids sing before, when they sang to wilting strawberries in the field and brought them back to life. Mickey was doing something similar, murmuring a song that echoed in a whisper. Trevor wasn't sure what it was he was doing, soft as his song was, but before his eyes, the injured boy's wounds began to close, blood ceasing to leak from damaged veins, flesh knitting together. A clear liquid rose out from the wound -- which he assumed was poison -- and evaporated into nothing. Color returned to the boy's face. He'd survive, though he'd likely lost a fair amount of blood. Nothing a bit of rest and some soup couldn't handle, though.
Trevor almost felt himself relax before he heard another scream from outside, thin with distance. Gods dammit he very nearly exclaimed. Almost on reflex, the other campers rushed out of the Big House, first Mikelaus, then Lucia, then Lara. Gritting his teeth, Trevor moved to follow.
Then he prepared to glide.
He sprinted towards the source of the scream, tossing his bag of chips aside. He snatched a spear from a weapon's rack on his way out -- a real one, not practice. As he neared the imaginary line that composed the camp's borders, he closed his eyes and made the soles of his feet Slick. Trevor leapt into a skid, and suddenly the ground no longer had purchase on him. He slid across it as if on ice, whipping through the field. He zipped along, wind pushing against his face, blowing back the leather jacket he wore over his orange camp shirt. Nothing could stop him when he was Slick like this. Fingers slipped off him, and he could slide forever. Out in the distance, he could see a young girl crawling across the ground, fending off a snarling . . . something. If a toad were as big as a bear, or if a bear had a lion's claws and a shark's teeth, it might look something like . . . whatever that was.
"A Strzyga! Anastasia and I have dealt with one before!" Lara shouted.
Well. Trevor wasn't entirely sure how to pronounce that, but okay then. Strzyga. He was dimly aware of Mikelaus saying some stupid shit as he banged his weapons, which only seemed to irritate the Strzyga further. It barreled forward, coming very close to flattening the girl before Lucia pulled her aside. Trevor steeled himself, falling into a spearman's stance. "Hey asshole!" he called. As the beast whirled around, he reached for the knife in his left sleeve and threw it in the same motion, straight for the thing's heart. If it had a heart. The second knife came into his hand more smoothly and left more smoothly. The bronze blades stuck in the creature's chest, though it hardly reacted. They may as well have been fucking flea bites. The monster stared him down, eyes burning.
It did not look amused.
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