The journey to the outpost was uneventful, but the unease that Elias’s caravan had left in Vigdis lingered like a bad taste. The directions he’d given her were vague, but after two days of travel, she finally spotted the shape of the outpost in the distance—a squat, rectangular structure half-buried in the hillside.
The air here was different, heavier. Vigdis slowed as she approached, gripping the axe tighter. A strange silence blanketed the area, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the rocks. She glanced up at the crumbling facade of the outpost, its surface marred with scorch marks and faded military insignias. Whatever had happened here, it wasn’t anything good.
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Inside, the air was damp and reeked of mildew and rust. Vigdis crouched near the entrance, her sharp eyes scanning the corridor ahead. Broken crates and rusted equipment littered the ground, and faint markings on the walls suggested someone—or something—had been here recently.
The narrow corridor led to a larger room, the ceiling high and jagged where it had partially collapsed. Stacks of metal shelves leaned precariously against one another, their contents scattered across the floor. A faint clicking sound echoed through the space, soft but distinct. It wasn’t mechanical. It was... alive.
Vigdis froze, her breath shallow. The clicking grew louder, more rhythmic, as if responding to her presence. She pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering as she scanned the shadows. The sound was coming from above.
She looked up, and her stomach twisted.
Clinging to the beams of the ceiling were creatures unlike anything she’d seen before. They resembled birds, but their bodies were grotesquely misshapen, their feathers patchy and slick with some oily substance. Their heads were wrong—elongated, with empty eye sockets and sharp beaks that clicked in unison. Their limbs ended in talons that seemed too large for their bodies, digging into the metal beams like hooks.
They weren’t looking at her. Yet.
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Vigdis moved cautiously into the room, keeping her eyes on the creatures. Her axe felt solid in her grip, the familiar weight a small comfort. She glanced at the center of the room, where a military crate lay half-open, its contents glinting faintly in the dim light. A crossbow rested on top, its design sleek and utilitarian, clearly made for precision. Several bolts were neatly stacked beside it, their tips glinting with a strange greenish hue.
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Her instincts screamed to grab the weapon, but as she took another step, the clicking above her stopped. Her gaze snapped upward just as one of the creatures launched itself from the beams, a shrill screech tearing through the air.
Vigdis roared and swung the axe in a wide arc. The blade caught the creature mid-air, cleaving through its oily feathers and sending it crashing to the ground. Black ichor sprayed from the wound, its acrid smell stinging her nose. She barely had time to register the kill before another creature lunged at her from the side.
She twisted, bringing the axe up defensively, but the creature’s talons scraped across her forearm, drawing a hot line of pain. Her grip faltered, and the axe clattered to the floor as she stumbled back, cradling her arm. Blood seeped between her fingers, and the creatures circled her now, emboldened.
One of them lunged again, and Vigdis ducked instinctively, her shoulder slamming into the military crate. Her hand shot out, closing around the crossbow’s stock. She raised it clumsily, fumbling to load a bolt as the creature bore down on her.
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Her first shot was a panicked one. The bolt fired with a faint whistle, missing its mark and embedding itself in the wall. The creature’s talons raked across her thigh as it passed, tearing through her trousers and sending her to one knee. She cursed, her breath ragged, and loaded another bolt with shaking hands.
This time, she took an extra second to steady her aim. When the creature lunged again, she pulled the trigger. The bolt struck true, piercing the thing’s chest and flaring brightly as it burned through its flesh. The creature let out a horrific screech before collapsing in a twitching heap.
The others hesitated, clicking nervously as they circled. Vigdis’s hands were steadier now. She loaded another bolt, gritting her teeth against the pain in her arm and leg.
“Come on,” she growled, her voice low and defiant.
They came all at once, screeching and clawing, their movements a blur. Vigdis fired again, and again, each shot more deliberate than the last. The crossbow’s power was undeniable; every strike sent a creature tumbling to the ground, their bodies steaming faintly where the bolts struck.
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When the last of the creatures fell, the room fell silent once more. Vigdis slumped against the crate, her chest heaving, the crossbow still clutched in her hands. Her axe lay on the ground nearby, slick with ichor, but it had been useless against the onslaught. She glanced down at the crossbow, her bloodied fingers brushing its smooth surface.
It wasn’t her weapon—not yet. But it had saved her, and that was enough for now.
She retrieved the bolts from the fallen creatures, noting the faint green glow at their tips. Whatever material they were made of, it was something unnatural, something meant to deal with monsters like these. She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Her wounds needed tending, and the wasteland wasn’t kind to those who lingered.
Slinging the crossbow over her shoulder, she retrieved her axe and limped toward the exit. The wasteland was waiting, and now, she was better armed for it.