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Knuckles was five when he lost everything. A five-year-old girl looked up at him now, blinking and looking over his recognizable quills, and the trademark knuckles beneath his gloves. She reached forward to touch them, and instinctively, Knuckles flinched back. She flinched, too, obviously realizing she’d crossed a line– which, well, that was better than what he normally got. She looked back up at his face, then, to see how upset he was. Fortunately for her, he'd been through a lot worse.
She wore ragged, clashing clothes, much like the other children in the orphanage. Whatever she could find, likely. It was winter, so everyone started pulling fabric over their fur for a little extra warmth. One of the employees there had given him a blanket, which he kept wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t like accepting favors, but it was better than nothing. As for her, she just had a little skirt, sewn up on the side, and a jacket that was too big for her, tied with a little ribbon to keep it from falling open. He supposed it was normally a ribbon used for her head-quills, which were drooping at the moment, as if they were used to being help up by something. They spiked behind her– a hedgehog, it seemed, though not a usual one. Most hedgehogs were cooler colors, not the bright pink of the little girl in front of him. It was hard to tell, too, but it seemed like she didn’t have a back spike under that coat.
“You’re the echidna, right?” she said directly.
Knuckles appreciated people who were direct. Even if they were rude, it was better than liars. He’d never been good at figuring out when people were lying until it was too late. His father had once told him that was a virtue. After four years of being thrown from place to place, he was starting to think that was a lie as well.
He nodded, and the girl crept closer. He raised his shoulders, trying to look intimidating, but she didn’t seem to notice. She stopped just a few inches from him, looking carefully.
“If you want something from me,” he said, his voice growing tired, “Just say so.” Everyone always wanted something.
She sighed, and then said, “Okay. Yeah, I need something. But I think it’ll help you, too.”
He’d heard that before. You’re from the Knuckles clan, aren’t you? You should love fighting. Now get in there and give them a show.
He crossed his arms. “What?”
She imitated his pose, and he held back a smile. Then he jumped, as she said, “You wanna get out of here?”
“Out of where?”
“The ‘rphanage. I have a way out but I need someone who’s good at digging.” she cocked her head to the side. “The older kids say that echidnas used to be tunnelers. Is that true?”
“We did other things, too.” Knuckles muttered, still remaining stiff. She was a child, yes, but he’d been first thrown into an arena when he was barely her age, and he was still alive because he knew how to fight. He wasn’t going to make his enemies’ mistake of underestimating a child.
“Okay.” she said. “You know the hour where they let us out into the garden? Meet me by the porch, I’ll show you our way out.”
She turned and left, then, running back over to her bed. Knuckles watched her as she crawled up and under the sheets, two other children her age grumbling as she did, telling her not to hog the blankets. He curled up in the corner, looking to the other beds full of children in the room. He preferred to sleep on the floor rather than with strangers. Though he doubted he would sleep much tonight. He had to be on guard a lot of the time, he was used to sleeping as little as possible.
A few hours later, he noticed the little pink hedgehog was still awake as well. He wondered if that was normal for her, too.
There was an hour in the afternoon where sunlight was optimal, and the employees let the children into the yard, under supervision. The last two days he’d been there, Knuckles had sat on the steps, pulling his blanket around him; he’d wrapped it around his chest, the way he remembered his father wrapping his poncho. His eyes went past the rushing children and up to the walls; they were made of thick stone, several feet higher than the tallest mobian could reach, arched just slightly. Even if he was able to climb it, that arch would prevent getting over the top and to the other side. Not to mention that a fall would greatly injure him– and, most importantly, he would be spotted immediately, and the adults here did not take kindly to disobedience. Most adults he’d been around didn’t.
He sat on the steps now, until he saw the pink hedgehog. She passed him, gesturing her hand for him to follow, and then moved to the rose bushes. He hesitated a moment, scouting the yard; the adults were in each corner, chatting to themselves or reading under a tree, while the children raced around, playing or shoving their hands into dirt or finding someone to annoy. He got to his feet, before moving to the shadows as he followed the girl. He’d been a point of interest the last several days, to his chagrin, but thankfully the children were finding new things to pick on and whisper about right now. Probably finding more fun looking for worms in the grass or chasing the flickies that happened to land in the trees.
He knelt by the bushes, glancing down at the ground. The orphanage garden wasn’t very good, the food never came in right, but the flowers seemed to grow alright. Which was funny, because they were the only things that had not been planted intentionally. The seeds would blow in on the wind, the adults complained often, but they didn’t have the energy or time to uproot them. They’d rather use the space for more food but, well, at least for now the flowers entertained the children, especially when the petals blew off in the wind and they could chase them.
The pink hedgehog had crawled inside the bush, and after a moment, Knuckles followed. She waited until she knew he was behind her, then continued on. Knuckles was glad she couldn’t see him, as he was flinching whenever the sharp thorns pushed against his quills. Don’t look weak, he reminded himself. This doesn’t even hurt that much.
Then she pushed aside some leaves, and he saw a small space, just outside of the branches’ reach. He pushed himself out, almost running into the stone wall. He shook himself, reaching to pull a thorn from his back, before looking up at the wall.
“Okay,” he said, “What is this?”
The pink hedgehog blinked at him, then crawled to the left. He followed, as she reached the back of another bush. There, she pushed aside the leaves, and he looked down to see a deep, wide hole.
“This bush is fake,” she whispered. “They haven’t noticed yet, but they’re gonna uproot the bushes once the snow comes in so they’ll find out. I need to finish this before then so I can get out.”
He moved beside her, glancing down the makeshift tunnel, before raising his brow. “Impressive. How long have you been working on this?”
“Couple weeks.” she said.
“I would have guessed a few months.”
“Hedgehogs are burrowers, too. I’m not a very good hedgehog, though, or I probably would’ve done a better job of it.”
“It’s alright.” he said. “Unlikely to collapse, which is the most important part. How close are you to the end?”
“The wall’s about a meter thick. I think I’m halfway under it.”
“I can get you nearly to the end before the hour’s up.” Knuckles nodded. “Then tomorrow we can run.”
He waved his hand, then, inviting her to follow him, as he leapt down into the tunnel.
While his tribe focused more on warfare than tunneling, being underground was still a deep comfort for Knuckles. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he was there, digging with the little hedgehog. It was much quieter underground than it was above. All sounds were a little muffled, which just made them softer, calmer. It took a second to adjust to the low light, but then it was incredibly nice. He’d always been a bit sensitive to brightness, but the dark was easy to fall into.
They worked in silence for a good long while, before the little hedgehog asked, “So. Why do you wanna leave?”
Knuckles sighed, having hoped they wouldn’t talk at all. He wasn’t a conversationalist. “Why must you know?”
“I dunno.” she shrugged. “It’s just. I heard the adults saying you were in some dangerous places before. This is kinda safe, isn’t it?”
“How about you?” he retorted.
She bit her lip. “Not safe enough.” she whispered. At least, he thought she did. He may have heard her wrong. There was a beat, before she said, “Anton said you’re looking for the Master Emerald. Is that true?”
Knuckles sighed. “Perhaps.”
To his surprise, she brightened, her eyes lighting up as she turned to him. Under the coat, her tail began to wag. “You believe in it too?” she said, relief flooding her voice.
He relaxed, just slightly, then continued to dig, patting the dirt into the wall. “Yes.” he said. “My tribe has always known it was real. It was stolen from us, and we always intended to get it back.” his voice faltered slightly. “The rest of them never completed their mission. I will not let their deaths be in vain.”
The hedgehog stared at him, stopping her dig for a moment. “You remember your family?”
“Of course.” he said. He did not want to say that there were memories already fading. She didn’t need to know that.
She blinked at him, and then said, “What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“Having a tribe.”
He sighed, glancing away from her so she wouldn’t see his face, and he began to burrow harder, faster. “There was always someone there for you. They were like you, they could help you. Even if one was cruel, another would pull you up.” he dug even faster. He’d been about to add that they wouldn’t abandon you, but. Well.
They didn’t mean to.
They still did.
She moved up beside him, trying to help him dig, but he was, indeed, more skilled than her. So she trailed behind him, and then said, “They said I was found by the side of a road.” Her eyes glazed, as she lost herself in thought. “It was winter then, too. There were tracks all around. I remember them saying that.” she swallowed. “I remember them saying the tracks were everywhere, so it was clear people were there with me, and then left me alone.”
Knuckles paused a moment. He didn’t turn towards her, but her admission shook him slightly. Left her alone.
“I see.” he said.
“I think I remember it a little.” she sighed. “I remember looking up at a branch, with snow all over it. I knew if I hit it, the snow would fall, but it was too high up.” she blinked. “I don’t know a thing before that.”
He continued his dig, gesturing for her to join him. She seemed a bit excited by that, seeing it as encouragement to keep going, and she raced beside him, patting the dirt as she continued.
“I’ve been a lot of places,” she said, “So I know how a lot of this stuff works.”
“What stuff?”
“The ‘rphanages. When adoption days come around, you gotta be super nice and polite. Do something impressive to get attention. You probably won’t have a problem with that, you’re pretty special.”
“I noticed.”
She didn’t notice the anger beneath his voice. “But you can’t be too special. Then they won’t want you. They never want me because I look super weird. Sometimes the adults ask if I’m even a hedgehog and I’m like, ‘well, what else would I be?’ and they don’t say anything til I’m gone. But then I listen and they say some not very nice things.” she shrugged. “It’s funny. They tell us to be nice and not talk behind backs but they do the same thing and think we don’t notice.”
“I have noticed that, too.” Knuckles nodded. “My captors always said we should fight fair, but they never did anything against the ones who didn’t.”
“Captors.” the hedgehog repeated the word. She looked over to him. “Are you captured here?”
“In a way.” he said. “I dislike being forced to be anywhere. But I’m not made to fight for entertainment at the least. I’m not sleeping in a cage.”
“They put you in a cage?” she asked, horrified.
“In some of them.”
“Some of what?”
“The arenas.” he hoped she didn’t see him shake a little. “Some of them were better than others. I had a room in one that had a bed, but no windows. So I couldn’t leave. At least in the cages, I could see the sky through the bars.”
“How’d you get out?” she asked, breathless. “Of the arenas?”
“One or two were shut down.” he said, pushing a quill out of his face. “The last one I was in was, which is why I’m here. They thought it’d be better to throw me here than let me run off. I had to escape the rest. It wasn’t as simple as a tunnel.”
“Wha’s that mean?”
“The first time, I had to try thrice.” he admitted. “The first two times I failed, it... it did not end well. But the third time, they were not looking at me as the audience exited. I managed to break out of my bindings and slip into the crowd.” He cocked his head. “Another arena, I had to knock out three guards, before running through a hole in the wall. I wandered the desert for a few days following that."
“You had to fight a lotta people?”
“You could say that, yes.”
“I’ve fought people, too.”
“Hmmph.” He could tell she was trying to impress him. But he doubted she had the experience he did.
“I have.” she insisted. “I’m really good at it, too. Maybe I would be good in an arena. It could be fun.”
“It is not.” he said.
“I like it sometimes. When I’m winning. I usually win when kids in the ‘rphanages try to bully me.”
Orphanages? Plural? “You have been in more than one?”
“Loads. I keep gettin’ kicked out.”
“I was not aware you could be removed from these places.”
“Most people aren’t. You gotta blow up something more than once. The first time they call it an accident. You keep doing it and they know it’ll be a pattern and they don’t wanna deal with you.”
“Do you do this on purpose?”
“No. But if you don’t wanna stay in these places either, maybe my ‘xperience can help.”
“Perhaps. Though I do not intend to be in another prison again.”
“Right. Cause you’re finding the master emerald! Where do you think it is?”
As if he would discuss such matters with her. “It does not matter. I will find it and restore it to its rightful place.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you wanna?”
“It is my duty. My destiny.”
The hedgehog mouthed the word destiny, her tail beginning to wag again. “I wish I had a destiny.” her tail stopped its wag, and her face fell. “I don’t have anything. I don’t even know who I am.”
Knuckles hesitated, stopping his dig for a moment. He thought on how long they’d been there– they would have to leave in just a little bit, or they would risk getting caught and punished. But...
“You are a very inquisitive and adventurous child.” he said carefully. “That much I have noticed.”
She was confused for a moment, then brightened and straightened up. “Is that good?”
“If you believe it is good, than it is.”
He was shocked, then, when suddenly she was on him, her arms wrapped around his chest as she pulled him into a tight hug. It lasted only a moment, before she pulled away, awkwardly shuffling her feet and adjusting her coat. He stared at her for a moment, before telling her that they should go. “Time is almost up,” he said, “But we should be able to finish tomorrow. We may be pushing time, but with the two of us, we could make it.”
She nodded, and they headed out of the tunnel.
When they went back into the building, the hedgehog sat beside him at dinner. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t move away from each other, either. The other children gave them strange looks, whispering or snickering to each other, and Knuckles did his best to ignore them. He had spent the last few years ignoring whispers.
The hedgehog finished her meal first, and moved to put her dishes in the sink. As she did, she looked out the window, into the front of the building, where they could see a wide street that wound between many similar, stony buildings.
Knuckles didn’t think much of her movement, but after a few minutes, as he got up to put his own dish away, he realized she was still at the window. He moved to the sink and put his plate down, before looking out. It was about as boring as it always was– a few mobians walking past, or stopping in the middle of the street to talk to each other, never sparing a glance to the orphanage behind them.
Then he looked to her, and he saw she was afraid.
Her hands gripped the edge of the sink as tight as she could. Her eyes were wide, distant, and barely blinking as she stared out the glass. He turned, trying to follow her gaze, but he only saw the same thing he did before; a dirty street and scattered strangers.
Carefully, he whispered, “Do you recognize one of them?”
She snapped out of her stupor, and quickly shook her head– a bit too quickly. She slid off the stool and to the ground, pulling her coat sleeves down. “No,” she said, “Don’t worry about it.”
After their meal, they had a few more supervised hours before they were sent up to bed. As they reached the room, and the children scattered to their spots, he watched them pass. He didn’t see that flash of pink.
Perhaps she was using the restroom. Or staying behind to ask something of the adults.
He didn’t hear her come in at night, though, after the candle was blown out. He slept only a little, and when he awoke he wondered if she snuck in while he was there. But then they went down the stairs, and lined up so the adults could count them, and he heard, at the end of the line, an exasperated cry, which was soon repeated in a more fearful tone.
“Where’s Amy?”
He stayed silent, as the adults counted them again, and as they made them sit in a room while they searched. He suspected that they would not let them outside while a child was missing, so he waited until the adults began to search the upstairs before slipping away from the whispering kids and sneaking his way to the outside. Once there, he rushed to the bushes, pushed his way through, and found the tunnel.
Indeed, it was there, and it was complete. He leapt inside and ran through, and in a few minutes his head poked out on the other side of the wall. He grabbed onto the grass, pulling himself up, and staring up at the sun.
With just one person, it must have taken her hours to finish that tunnel. She must have spent most of the night on it.
He should not feel bad. She was not his responsibility. They had not even exchanged names.
Still...
He shook his head, and then picked a direction to head, and ran.
Knuckles had kept that blanket wrapped around his shoulders and chest the entire time he was there, though he’d trade the blanket a few towns later for some food. Little Amy eventually grew into her coat, though she had to stitch it up every now and again. They both kept running, with Knuckles running towards something, and Amy running away.
Perhaps if they had talked more, they would have noticed the same differences between them. Perhaps they would have realized they both had the same spark in their eyes, that the explosions Amy spoke of were not from chemicals but from the energy that burst from her quills whenever she was angry, the same energy that kept Knuckles alive through arena after arena. Perhaps they would have realized Amy was found on the same island that Knuckles used to live, and that when she didn’t gel up her quills or push them up with a ribbon, they fell in the same way as his. Perhaps, if either of them had removed their coat, they would have noticed they both had the same white crescent on their chests.
But time moved on, and they forgot each other.
Until Knuckles was fifteen, and he swung his sparking fist, trying to hit the bat who’d stolen his emerald, and then there was a hammer blocking him, and he looked down into the green eyes of the little hedgehog. The eyes flashed pink as her own energy sparked up to match his, and for just a moment, they were nine and five again.
Then she pushed her hammer, throwing him back, and he found himself fighting again.