Wordcount: 468 words
Summary: The elders try to convince Omen to come home.
NOTE: This is the first draft of a story, so it will most likely contain plot holes, retcons, and other inconsistencies. I’ll come back and fix things once the story (or arc) is complete!
Not According To Plan
When the elders of the warren finally came to see Omen, he refused to see them. May ended up playing nursemaid to try and get him to talk.
“They tried to keep me there!” He objected, “They tried to make you die!”
May sighed. “I am sure they did not knew I was going to die, we did not’ even know I was going to die until too late.”
“Yes, they did!” Omen insisted, “they watched the branches and chose the ones where I lived and you died, they wanted me to find someone else. I don’t want to find someone else!”
All of a sudden May was not feeling very helpful towards the elders.
“Well, let’s go see what they have to say and then you can tell them No to their faces.”
Omen grinned okay I like that.
The elders were vaguely alarmed to see the golden come out with May and she could tell form the expressions that there was crosstalk she was not hearing.
“Rude.” Omen objected, “they said you should have died, I should have let you die. They even wished that I had died, and how is that nice? I don’t want to talk to them.”
The elders were looking embarrassed and alarmed and May figured they had not expected Omen to be able to hear them.
“He’s a golden you idiots, what did you expect? Now what did you want?”
“He needs to come back with us.”
“No he does not.”
“Yes he does and he’s going to come back with us he snapped.”
Omen sat down. “No.”
“He’s too important to risk here, he needs to be safe in the warrens.”
“But you can’t know that.” May narrowed her eyes. “You can’t know that because he makes things up as he goes along. All you can know is that you would rather have him there, because you think it’s safer. you don’t know anything.”
“You can’t know anything,” Baron sniffed. “There is no tree, there’s no future. You can guess all you want but you can’t know.”
“Not anymore,” Omen agreed.
“That’ all your fault,” the elder snarled at Baron, “you broke everything.”
“Maybe that’ a good thing,” May objected, “Maybe breaking things means Omen is not here for the reason he thought he was.”
“I am here for the war,” Omen looked up at her, “I am still here for the war, that has not changed.”
“Worth a shot,” May said.
“War? What war?” the elder objected, “There is no war.”
Omen cocked his head, “then what is this?” He looked out over the remains of the forest.
“This is a storm.” The elder said, like he was an idiot.
“No,” said Omen, with conviction that was much too firm to belong to someone so young. “This is war.”