Luna’s eyes had watered to the point she doubted she had much more to bleed. For a full day, Pupper had sprinted her fastest to keep up with the white bolt of lightning zooming across the fields of corn ahead of her.

“We’re almost there, girl! I think!” At least if Luna was to judge by the approaching pillar of smoke rising from somewhere beyond the corn. The wind lashed at her face and as much as she loved the sensation of freedom - of swiftness, she’d found herself jealous of the girl clamoring to her chest from behind.

The wind had nearly wrapped Serah in a comfortable blanket of leather as her fluttering coat protected the mind-trickster from the elements. More than a few times, she’d heard an unmistakable snore from behind, which was a far cry from what she could hear from the girl’s forlorn lover on Braille’s speedy form in the distance.

Abraham had screamed until he was hoarse and then some. Thankfully, even as his panic led him to the brink of unconsciousness, Jorn’s stalwart arms pinned him in place.

This was not the day he’d envisioned - he’d been looking forwards to spending another day with Serah out on the scorched mires, but instead, he suffered her father’s ‘Rustlin’ rager’ to his back and more than once, he’d pondered leaping off of the white, furry projectile, if only to get a glimpse of the two women riding Pupper somewhere in the back.

“Here we go, boh, you’re gunna love this!” Jorn hollered. Still staring down into the leather harness, he retched as his stomach lurched at a powerful acceleration. He hadn’t thought it possible they’d move any faster, but as if to prove a point, Braille had increased her speed with powerful thrusts of her legs.

“One, two, three - hang on, boy!” Jorn screamed with delight as Braille kicked off from the ground with all her might.

Abraham thought he’d finally died as the winds ceased slapping him across his pained, cold, naked face. If the Church hadn’t lied about everything, then he’d face the death of a warrior and would soon find himself pressed in between the thighs of the warrior women of Mazuncle in sweet bliss.

But Braille wasn’t done with him yet. She spun around in the air, righting herself to kick against something to send them even further up in the skies, finally letting him see the horrific mixture of frightening sensory inputs.

There, on the streets far below, he saw a sight that awoke his primal fears. He felt as if he was flying above the forest where he, Michael and Marcel had first seen grass, only that in place of blades of green, he now stared down at a nightmarish landscape of tendrils, flesh and gore. Bodies hung suspended on thick bundles of monster-flesh and the ground itself seemed overgrown with monstrously long, pale, slithering maggots tearing at bulbs of flesh hanging between the many buildings.

“Oh Goood!”

Logan’s head jerked sideways as he heard the shrill shriek of a maiden in jeopardy only to see a dark shape obscure the bright skies up above.

He had to leap backwards as the humongous beast clashed into the wood, cracking planks and crushing stone beneath her powerful paws.

As she came to a screeching halt along the platform, her claws bored furrows in the wood, spraying the gathered Ghasts with the wet chips.

Every gun on the platform reflexively turned to the freshly arrived trio of man, beast and boy - all equally confused at the meeting atop the garrison rooftop.

“What in the - you put them guns away before you hurt yourselves!” Jorn warned as he descended from the harness to glance across the armed congregation.

Iris hadn’t made a sound as the beast had crashed into the wood, but now that Braille had laid down to pant against the granite, she realized who that gray-haired, confused-looking man was.

“M-Major-General C-Crusher, h-how-”

He wrinkled his nose and raised his gloved hand to look at Iris.

“That you, Magdalen?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She dropped to a knee and shook her head down at the granite.

“N-No, Sir. I-It’s Iris. Thank the Lord and the Governor you came - this heretic-”

“Boy, the hell you been up to here?” The old man turned to Logan to question it with his commonplace genuine confusion.

Logan shrugged. “I haven’t done anything. But the Monstrum here isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before… I haven’t even seen its body, but look-” He motioned to the surrounding town.

The old man scratched his chin ponderously and looked down at the writhing jungle of crimson flesh. “That’s a lotta meat. Burnin’ it didn’t work?” He asked.

“We didn’t get very far, because this one decided to hold us at gunpoint.” Logan motioned for the kneeling Iris.

Before she could voice her protests with the claim, Jorn raised a hand to scratch his scruffy chin and pointed to the unconscious, young man clad in animal skins atop the hound.

“If y’all don’t put those down, I’m gonna let the gimp on ya. I wouldn’t mess with that kid - y’hear?” The Ghasts all seemed genuinely confused before Iris hissed over her shoulder:

“That’s an order! This is Major Crusher - put those down!”

Upon hearing his credentials, the Ghasts all deposited their weapons beneath their coats and, similarly, fell to a knee.

“Hey, I keep tellin’ ya, I’m retired. That said, I reckon I gotta come back to the office for this’un. That’s a lotta meat.” He repeated as he walked to the ledge to ponder the nature of the beast.

“Logan! Logan!” A familiar shout sounded from across the street. Logan perked up at the sound of the heavenly voice and jogged across the battlement to see a familiar, dark outline next to a pair of gentle beings.

There, beyond the reach of the Monstrum, standing atop what had once been a corner supplier, Luna stood with her arms crossed, flanked by the long-nosed Pupper and the grinning Serah.

“Logan, you son of a bitch- you said ‘it’ll be fine’!” She shouted. Already, she’d picked up more of his family’s speech impediments than he’d care to allow, but as she went on to remind him:

“Your dad’s fucking insane! And you left me with him!” Logan scratched his chin, pondering if this was really the time for such a discussion. But judging by his Pa’s narrowed eyes of bewilderment, they had a few minutes to spare before a plan came to fruition.

“I’m sorry! If it’s any consolation, I think Abe’s worse off!” Luna raised her palm to her face as Serah chimed in from the side to scream: “He says he’s gunna marry me, bro! He asked Pa and everythin’!” Logan was more confused than anything - he hadn’t prepared for the entire clan to show up for this outing, but… judging by the circumstances, he was happy they had.

“Quit yer jammerin’, kids! Huddle up for a plan - not you, Serah and not you, Filly; you stay right where ye are!” Jorn shouted from the back of the platform.

The old man had taken to standing atop the wall to stare out at the resources at his disposal, reminding Logan that he hadn’t always been a raving, insane hermit. Once, he’d been one of the initial leaders of the Purge - using the knowledge of the Longmirians to cleanse the entire sector, or so he’d thought. This… this bothered Jorn.

“Boy, you said you ain’t ever seen nothin’ like it, but I think I have - twenty years back. Came into a town just like this’un. A hundred thousand dead and they hadn’t left nothin’ behind except bodies, blood ‘n meat. Town of Crunt, up in the mountains.” He pointed back towards Longmire, but Logan knew where the ruins of Crunt now stood. It was one of the seven major Hives - spewing the legions of Monstrum out into Cradle to that very day.

“‘Course, we were too late to do anythin’ about it. Didn’t have the firepower to light it up… still had more than we’ve got here.”

Jarek’s heavy bootsteps sounded from out between the cannons. With the rifle still in his arms, he nodded a greeting to his fellow senior and questioned: “The hive was just there? Appeared out of nowhere?”

Logan raised his thumb under his mask to ponder the possibilities. It made a certain amount of sense that Crunt might’ve suffered a similar fate - from what he had heard, the town had gone silent overnight and it had been an ill-expected turn of events. One that had sparked the beginning of the Purge, as the realization had quickly spread that the walls and the mountains could no longer keep the people of Cradle from falling prey to the Monstrum.

But what function would such a morphotype serve? A new vector for spreading? He struggled to see the reasons for it - the usual vectors were more than effective enough.

Logan quizzed his council: “D’you think there’s some kind of mobile mass to this? Crunt’s all the way across Cradle - it’d take time and energy to move biomass that far... especially this much.”

The old man stood over his son to stare brooding, gray eyes into the slits of the mask.

“Plain and simple, Toofy - you know I don’t like them big, fancy words. But yeah, I’m sure there’s somethin’ down here that’s movin'. And if there ain’t, it’s not gettin’ away from us.”

Jorn jerked his head around to look at the tight ranks of Ghasts.

“You there can either join in on the fun or you can try to run away… don’t think you’d get very far, though.” Commander Iris stood at their front and was quick to slap her chest to sound a resounding acknowledgment. “Major, we’re at your disposal. But I must implore we discuss Commander-”

He waved her off dismissively before turning back to motion towards the gunnerymen. “Enough chit-chatin’, let’s get this grill goin’!”