Guelder and Pangur made their way further inland, across a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers, peppered with small stands of trees. The wet soil made sucking sounds under her bare feet. Soon enough, the groups of willow, birch and alder thickened into a forest. Bear leek covered the forest floor like a carpet, opening its starlike white blossoms and filling the air with an appetising smell. Guelder collected a good handful of its leaves, careful not to take more than one off each plant. She found two types of mushrooms that had previously proved to be safe for eating, and dug up some roots and tubers that looked like the local wild versions of parsnip and radish. Meanwhile, Pangur caught a careless squirrel and devoured it on the spot. Guelder let him hunt and feed.
Her pointy ears perked up as she heard the unmistakable call of wood pigeons, then the flapping sound of their wings as they landed on a branch of a birch tree before her. Two weeks ago, pigeon meat had been an impossible dream. Just as impossible as teaching the Stag Lord a lesson. This time, however, Guelder had a bow and a quiver full of arrows.
She looked up into the young leaves of the canopy letting through small patches of sunlight. Her amber eyes locked onto the unsuspecting male bird. With slow, almost invisible motions, she nocked an arrow, aimed carefully, drew, then released.
The moment the arrow flew out towards the bird, a long, snakelike thing shot up from the thick undergrowth, enveloping the pigeon and yanking it off the tree. The female flew off in a panicked hustle of wings, but it couldn't escape another long tentacle whipping out at it. Guelder's arrow hit the trunk of another tree, trembling from the impact. She froze in place, listening, while her hand fumbled in the quiver for another arrow. She heard gluttonous munching and crunching sounds, followed by a series of almost articulated belches and ribbits. Through the scent of bear leek flowers, she detected another smell. Putrid swamp water.
That could only mean boggards. Humanoid frog creatures with greenish, slimy skin, wide mouths, bulging eyes, uncannily long tongues, wielding big clubs or even basic-level but quite strong elemental magic. The last thing Guelder wanted was to run into them, let alone lead them to her companions.
She heard a soft meow from behind. Pangur, having eaten his fill of squirrels, nuzzled her hand and placed a furry little body onto her palm. A single squirrel for today's soup, without the head. Better than nothing. Guelder tucked the bushy tail into her belt, then gave a silent order to Pangur, and prepared herself for the escape.
She took her leopard form, then followed Pangur as he leapt up a thick alder's trunk, working himself upwards with momentum and claws. The easiest way to lose any pursuer was to flee from branch to branch, until they would reach the edge of the forest.
The boggards finished their meal and decided that they were still hungry. With leaps and bounds, they made their way in the direction where the arrow had come from, hoping for more prey. Pangur was already out on a horizontal branch, adjusting himself for a pounce, but Guelder was still climbing the trunk. A tongue shot out towards her, stuck into her fur and wrapped itself around her flank, so tightly that it squeezed the air out of her. She sank her claws into the bark of the tree, holding tight against the pull. Her pulse was drumming in her ears, her vision getting blurred.
She retracted her claws and let go.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Her weight plummeted towards the boggard at a frightening speed and slammed into its face, knocking it back against the ground. For a second, the squeeze of the tongue loosened, and Guelder wiggled out of its grasp. Her sharp claws slashed at the tongue, once, twice, until it came loose, its root mangled to bloody shreds. The boggard let out a frightful croak. Guelder responded with a roar. Roaring helped her build confidence against intimidation, as she had experienced quite a few times. She faintly sensed Pangur's helpless panic on the tree, but before her mind could reach out to calm him, the other boggard's club smashed into her back. Her body jerked in pain, but she didn't let go until she raked her victim's face and eyes into red strips of slimy flesh. Another blow came. She had to switch target before her other foe would break her spine.
She let out a scream of distress to alert Pangur, then her jaws snapped close around her attacker's knobby knee. With all her might, she jerked her head upwards, putting the boggard off balance. The creature landed on its bottom with an annoyed belch, and its twitching leg remained between Guelder's teeth. She dropped it and pounced upon the boggard, going for the throat. The swampy taste of its blood roiled her stomach. The boggard thrashed for a while, then stopped moving.
Guelder sneezed a few times, trying to rid herself of the disgusting taste in her mouth. When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw Pangur finish off the other boggard, as it was groping around and ribbiting desperately, its eyes deflated and leaking bloody goo.
The dying croak of the creature confused all her senses. She had no idea where Pangur was or how she could get back to the others. She only knew one thing: where there were two boggards, there could be more. Not to mention all kinds of unfriendly swamp wildlife, like giant frogs or monitor lizards. She had to get away, alert the others, then find another place to camp in.
Only then did she notice that her vision was still blurry. Or it wasn't her vision at all. A strange fog was curling its tendrils among the trees, reaching towards her, swirling in the soft breeze. As if the world were being infused with thin milk. Weirdly enough, she hadn't smelled its arrival in the air. Had the two days spent in a city already made her senses sloppy?
Come, Pangur. We are heading back.
A faint voice sounded across the forest, reverberating from everywhere at the same time.
"What is this? I... I cannot breathe! Help... help..."
Guelder startled, suddenly finding herself back in her elf form. She couldn't remember shapeshifting. She looked around, racking her eyes to pierce the mist, to no avail. What was that? Someone in trouble? Or an evil trickster, faking cries of distress to lure adventurers into its trap? She waited in silence for a while, suppressing the urge to answer and offer her help. It had been a fluke that she and Pangur could handle the two boggards, but if there were more of them nearby, she'd better keep quiet, or her entire group would be neck-deep in trouble very soon.
Pangur chomped on the corner of her cloak and gave it a tug. It was time to leave. She took her leopard form again for better speed, and followed her friend who could deal better with the challenge of the fog. It was increasingly hard to see further ahead than a few yards.
They went with the original plan and climbed up into the canopy, Pangur first, Guelder next, holding the tip of his tail between her jaws, like a juvenile shrew. Up among the branches, the situation was a little better. The fog was swirling beneath them, leaving drops of condensation on their whiskers, covering the ground and slowly rising upwards, so creepy and unnatural that it made the fur on Guelder's back stand on end.
The vapour in the air made it harder to pick up the trail of their own scent, now hidden under the milky blanket, but they could make up for it in eyesight. With careful pounces from one branch or trunk to another, they reached the edge of the forest. From the fronds of the last tree, Guelder could barely make out the river. Leaving the safety of the canopy, the two leopards split up and headed to the Shrike. Now it was only a matter of luck and patience to find the boat, the camp and each other.