The birds have tucked in for the night. Crickets have begun to sing, but otherwise the rolling countryside is peaceful and still.
At least it was, until a doorway opens in the sky.
It’s not a wholly unfamiliar sound, this tearing of the fabric between dimensions. Blue and white light spills from the edges of the portal.
It’s not positioned so high as to draw notice for miles around – only about fifteen feet off the ground.
And that’s a good thing for the youngest of the turtle brothers who comes flying out, arms pin wheeling in the air. A startled cry is cut short with a whuff as he lands hard on his plastron.
His chin scrapes the rocky ground pretty hard and the collision punches the wind right out of him – but Mike’s used to being knocked around and makes a fairly quick recovery.
Only seconds after landing, he is pushing himself up with a groan and fighting air back into his lungs. “Leo!” he wheezes, but can’t manage a decent volume yet.
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