Chapter 4 Rekindling A Dead Spark.

Blood coating his hands is all the injured soldier could see through his one remaining elongated gray eye while the other had been stabbed out.

The unknown attack had already taken his perfect vision, both monocular and binocular, allowing him to see two fields of vision simultaneously or focus on one thing with both eyes.

Yet not even his perfect sight foresaw this coming.

The battlefield was a chaotic mess of gray and black blood, with large flickering flames and smoke filling the air. The buzz cut soldier lay on the hard wet ground, covered in cuts and struggling to breathe.

His lungs closing due to the smoke while around him, his comrades were screaming in pain and fear, the human and half-monster bodies were torn apart by the enemy's attacks.

The smell of their burning flesh mixed with the metallic scent of blood filled his snout. As he looked up at the sky, his fluffy black and white ears rang with the deafening sound of what only be described simply: discord.

Then as if it wasn't horrible enough, suddenly without warning, a large tree crashed down on the mutant soldier before he could even move, crushing his lower legs and trapping him beneath the earth.

The sound of the bones snapping a sickening crack. Meanwhile The god they had sworn to serve walked away with a smug smile, leaving them to die like a weak camp fire.

Then just when the Onocentaur thought he had reached the max level of pain. His silk black and white furred mule broken legs that he took so much pride in. Was ripped off.

Gasping as the shock from the memory of that pain finally wakens him back into real world. The feeling of anxiety is all that's left as the half mule blinked while grabbing his pointed ears pulling them hard as his long tail whipped back and forth fast.

His one good gray eye looking around panicked, feeling like he was verge of a melt down, trying to adjust to the sudden change in his surroundings.

The roof overhead was nothing but a flat sheet of cardboard, propped up by whatever scraps of wood he had managed to scavenge. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to regain his bearings.

The now mutant ex solider runs his hands though his jet black mo-hawk while muttering to himself, trying to ground himself back into the present, "My name is Sargent Dunkin Dikaiosune. I am here in my little card board box and not on the battle field"

Dunkin's breathing slowly improved as he successfully grounded himself and recovered from one of his many random flashback night terrors from his days in the army.

Three years and counting, the nightmares still haunted him.

As his breathing became more controlled and his heart steady. The flashback episode had lifted for now, Dunkin's eyes wandered over the meager possessions that filled his makeshift shelter. A pile of old clothes, a rusted can opener, and a small stash of old fruits that he had scavenged before fall in the forest. The only light came from the sunlight outside and cold deadly wind, casting eerie shadows through the holes in his cardboard walls.

"Argh, shit, it's cold as hell already. It will be a blessing if I survive this winter"

Dunkin mutters almost sarcastically, which showed he was reasonable mule for the most part despite the fact that his kind was known for acting hard headed.

Dunkin knew this current life wasn't much, it had gone down hill in a past few years ever since he had been 'honorably' discharged from the army.

The word with horror was used very loosely.

It was more like, he was kicked out after becoming useless to the gods and government with his lack of limps and eye sight.

Four years of his life following every order without uttering a word and sucking up to the gods and this is where it left him.

Without a pair of lower legs, a missing eye and losing his sanity for the most part.

Dunkin used his two well build arms to lift his torso off the ground, getting his balance on his amputated limps. He grunted as it was still even a struggle to pull on his tattered, stained jeans shorts. The fabric clung tightly to his legs, emphasizing every bulging muscle. His unzipped army green jacket hung loosely with his metal dog tags around his broad shoulders and thick neck, the frayed edges and faded patches telling stories of battles long fought. Even in his worn state, he exuded a rugged toughness that was hard to match.

He then reached and pulled for a bright red apple from his stash in the corner. Dunkin brought the apple up to his mouth, getting ready to enjoy what little breakfast he had before starting his day.

Suddenly, the random sound of the bird's wings flapping could be heard from afar. Dunkin almost thought it was one of his war flashbacks. However it was worse, the steady atmosphere shatters as a menacing black raven swoops into the Onocentaur's cardboard box home.

Dunkin's one eye widened in bewilderment as the raven snatched the apple away from him with it's long claws, leaving the ex-solider with nothing but anger and frustration.

Now, normally the mule was perfectly reasonable despite the horrible life he had but a raven stealing his apple was the final straw.

"You little crow! I stole that fair and square!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the empty space as the half mule tried to grab the bird.

The raven, undeterred by Dunkin's shouts, avoids getting caught and took off into the sky, flying out of the card bored box. cackling maniacally as it disappeared from sight leaving Dunkin, seething with fury.

After, letting a frustrated sigh though his snout," Stupid bird" Dunkin muttered, shaking his head in disbelief while reaching and grabbing his only weapon.

A rusty can opener.

Placing it between his teeth before using his upper arms to lift his lower body off the ground and runs outside, using his hands as feet.

Dunkin couldn't afford to lose his temper now, it was pointless, yet the loss of his breakfast had hit him harder than he expected. It was a precious break from his monotonous existence, and now it was gone. especially after surviving so much hardship. He had survived war, injury, and abandonment, and he would continue to fight to stay alive.

Dunkin wasn't going to be out done by a mere bird.

As soon as the fallen solider was outside the old card board box home. His head snapping back and forth, searching for the wing thief that stole his apple.

As Dunkin scanned the sky, he spotted his target perched on a nearby brush, cackling at the half mule. His eyes locked onto the bird, and without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted forward, the rusty can opener still clenched between his teeth.

The mule's powerful arms propelled him forward, and as he closed in on the raven, leaping into the air. The raven, startled by the oncoming attack, took off, but Dunkin was determined to retrieve his stolen apple.

His arms flailed through the air, the makeshift weapon still clenched in his jaws as he pursued the raven. Yet, Dunkin only ends up falling face flat into the dirt with a mouth full of poison oak and dead leafs.

Despite the pain and utter embarrassment, Dunkin gritted his teeth and tried to lift himself back up. He knew he had to catch that bird before it flew too far away. The mule struggled to regain his balance on amputate legs meanwhile the black raven cackled at the fallen solider as sored though the skies, completely unfazed by his failed attempt.

The raven did finally loosen of its grip on the plump red apple. The fruit landed gracefully in the palm of a nearby young man who's face is hidden by a hood made of pure golden fleece. The bird settled itself onto his shoulder while Dunkin let out a defeated sigh as he brushed away dirt and poison oak from his face using one hand, while also trying to regain his balance back on to his limbs with the other.

He could still taste the bitter residue of the plant on his tongue from when he bit into it trying to open a can.

A quiet gasp escapes the hooded figure, their soft and sweet voice uttering a question and a name that Dunkin never thought he would hear again, "Nulla? Is that you?"

No one knew Dunkin's his real name. The Onocentaur had disowned it and joined under another identity when he applied for the army years ago.

Hearing his real name for first time in years was like uttering a forbidden curse, it brought back memories that should have stayed buried.

Dunkin's only elongated eye widened as he recognized the voice immediately, his heart pounding in his chest. It couldn't be. Yet, it was.

The hooded figure pulled back the golden fleece that covered once their face. Finally, relieving the young man's trade mark golden eyes that filled with fear when ever the two met each other. It was the same young man, who's life, Dunkin made a living hell everyday in highschool and thought he'd never see again.

The only person who dared to address the ex soilder by his first name after so many years.

"J..Johnny" Dunkin's breath caught in his thoart as all the memories hit him at once.

It was as if a match been set off in his soul. Rekindling something that should had stayed dead.