The carriage wheels rolled over the unpaved road. They ran over stones, twigs, and small plants, carelessly, crushing the life out of them. The sound of the horses' hooves resonated in the deadly silence created by the majestic trees of Ea forest. The lash hit their back, over and over, refusing to let them rest.

The scattered snowflake blended into his hair, melted on his porcelain skin. Rokah sleeking like a frigid breath. Weightless jumps from one branch to another, barely keeping up with the carriage speed. Though, a shad of confidence reflected on his face. He was certain that the wheels of the carriage won't hold longer.

Guided by Mr. Hendrickson's instructions, Rokah was tempered with the wheels of the correct horse carriage.

On how this man has figured, the butler's choice, which the latter will choose among many other carriages, was a mystery. After all, Mr. Hendrickson only left to Rokah the choice of believing or disbelieving him.

Rokah, who finally broke out from the Crocotta chains, didn't take long to make his choice.

Only one last part of his agreement with Mr. Hendrickson needed to be accomplished.

Eliminating the Chimera magus; the butler of the main house.

Certainly, Rokah didn't accept this hard mission without a tempting reward. He actually never ceased to renew that conversation between him and Mr. Hendrickson, again and again, chewing it, like a piece of meat, querying if he had made the right choice.

"When the barrier disappears, the Magus will flee as fast as he could. He will go through the forest. Wait for his passage there and follow him. The carriage wheels won't hold longer. When you finish him, search the carriage for the permit he stole from me. It's yours."

The resumé of that meticulous, tricky conversation. As it sutured under the blessing of an upcoming arranged fate. Mr. Hendrickson also mentioned:" It's up to you to consider the suggestion or not." offering Rokah the riddle of choice, the mirage of freedom that he yearned for.

Finally, the carriage wheels gave up. Fractured under the overwhelming pressure. Subjected to this anxious speed, the horses and the wagon overlapped, then they rolled several laps in the slope before they got stuck between trees.

It was a big and painful crush. The tired horses stuck between the debris moaned in pain. The riders could barely move, blood ousted from their head, and the door of the carriage was pushed from the inside without being opened.

This was Rokah's long-awaited moment. The time of action. It took him a blink of an eye to getting to the accident site.

Ruminating his first encounter with this magus, his first impression of the man. The deep abasement, the extreme accusations. Thinking objectively, they all stared at this man's hands.

The intentional accident smelled of a tragedy from an old book. The gruesome pressure brisked a sleeping pleasure. A remote craving in Rokah's heart that wakes up unevenly. He started by relieving the horses' pain, sending them to the other world.

Next, he proceeded towards the riders; they were herbivorous Chimeras, the abundant genre in the village- farm. Rokah observed their sore expressions, listened to their painful cries, inebriated at the sight of their blood. The forest shades tinted red.

The memory of the magus offering him to sign the pact of slavery. Chewa's face sparkled under the tears, then bathed in blood. Her mother's hollow eyes. The serial murder of the woodcutters. All were erroneously attributed to someone else.

In A burst of hatred, Rokah, with his hand, covered those poor eyes, murmuring into their ears: "Do not fret, I will avenge you, in a moment."

The trembling ended. It was a quick motion, a straightforward treatment for relieving the torment of agony.

The carriage door got broken from the inside. A tall and hairy man struggled to push his torso up. He was extremely disoriented, yet he didn't stop trying to get out.

Rokah was monitoring each quick or slow movement, each weak or strong hit made by this individual. The fierce struggle. Rokah's heart pumped a grudge and malice, delighted. The irony of fate never ends to amuse the spectators.

This man is a Chimera, one of them, yet he assisted in enslaving his race, exploiting them, murdering them. He used his gift in helping their predators.

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This man is the most despicable of all, more than the Aractanthrope or the Crocotta, and he deserved a painful death.

The reason Rokah chose to kill this man, was not because he believed in Mr. Hendrickson's words, neither did he want to deny the tiny hope in his heart that he would find a permit of passage. But deep down, he strived to be the killer of this man.

It was his revenge for Chewa and Madam Linda, to all the brainwashed, enslaved Chimera in the village.

It was his solace for not being able to save anyone. It was for his feebleness and self-consolation.

***

Isidore didn't waste a second. Emerging from the cottage, packed with the necessary luggage, he tailed the Amarok, hoping that he would find him in the next three days or he shall leave the Crocotta territory alone.

With the extra weight on his body and the hurdles on his road, it slowed his progress.

The first light of the morning facilitated his navigation through the intricate paths of the forest. Since his night vision has been dramatically reduced, the day activities molded much to his favor. However, the danger stayed the same.

Inspecting the distinct traces on the undissolved parts of the snow, checking the frost pattern on the tree branches, were all clues that helped him to stay on the right path.

Restless doubts crawled his legs. The feeling of being intentionally misled by the traces germinated under his knuckles, perturbing his advance further. Till he found a stain of blood dwindled among white snowflakes.

Isidore's brain began forming guesses. His thoughts settled down on the idea that the Amarok health condition must have deteriorated.

It's true, the Amarok had consumed the Chimera meat that helped to accelerate the body regeneration. However, for a lot of reasons, the fatty meal would be meaningless if he can't digest it.

Cold, fatigued, strenuous movements will work to the Amarok disadvantage.

A few feet more and Isidore finally could see someone's body on the ground, struggling to get up. The boost of success extinguished the fire of fatigue. He quickly approached the site.

Near the Amarok's tired body, there was a pool of vomit. Pieces of undigested raw meat melted in gastric secretions and blood. His face was drenched with droplets of sweat, his breathing revealed an unbearable pain.

Isidore looked down at the ground, watching the trembling arms and legs in their attempt to move the weak body forward. Isidore's eyes were of someone nonchalant, but deep down, he was marveling.

What could drive this man to cling to a life to this extent?

Love? Hate? Or simply something as trivial as the unconscious reasoning of survival instinct.

Anyway, Isidore murmured: " This must be your lucky day that I am the first to find you."

He took a cover from the luggage that he brought with him and proceeded to wrap the Amarok body with it, then he used a rope to hold him on his back.

The moment Isidore felt ready to walk, a drop of slimy liquid fell on his head. It was bigger than a kid's fist.

Another one fell next to him.

He lifted his head, checking the source. A white with a black strip of fur obstructed his vision. Two horns from striped hyena-like heads halted high above. Pale green eyes glared at Isidore with something akin to a calm threat.

The droplets of saliva loosely pending between the Crocotta teeth as a thick breath emerged from its inclined mouth.

It must be the smell of blood and meat that brought her here.

Without a delay, Isidore took out the permits from the pocket of his leather coat and held them as high as he could.

A warm wind brushed over his face. The sultry air coming from the Crocotta's nostrils mixed with the outside cold to form a thick, moist fog.

Isidore's eyes were slightly blinded, but he managed to observe the Crocotta gigantic body fading between the trees. Its motion was regular despite the obstacles in its road as if it was riding the wind.

A Crocotta with ghostly characteristics. No wonder Isidore didn't sense its presence at all, even though its head was above him.

Maybe that Crocotta didn't bother much with them because it was in a hurry to get back to the Chimera farm.

He adjusted the unconscious Amarok position on his back before he made his first step out of the dangerous territory and towards the big city of Babel.

****

"Thank goodness sister Surveen was in a hurry, if not, how I was going to explain to her this massacre," Savannah murmured between her lips as she gazed at the crime scene.

At the same time, she felt anxious about her sister Surveen's urgency. She hoped that the green-eyed Crocotta wasn't carrying some kind of bad news to her mother.

A broken carriage, dead horses, and slew Chimera. There was no resistance or fight. A one-sided slaughter, Savannah deduced from a superficial inspection of the place.

The first thing that came to her mind is that her reputation will again suffer gravely if her name gets linked with this massacre.

How fate is not fair, making her bear again the fame of being a lover of slaughter.

She walked closer to the site. The smell of Chimera blood caressed her nose. What a waste for precious livestock.

However, the young warrior was in an alert state. She yet had to find the body of the butler.

Who could be the real thug? This question rolled in her mind with each step she took towards the dead victims.

Perhaps her guess about Mr. Hendrickson sending Rokah to shut up the Chimera Magus was a little overboard. This thought became solidified whenever Savannah inspected a dead body and confirmed that it didn't belong to the butler.

But the aspect of wounds on the neck raised her suspension. Those wounds were just perfect, as if an expert cut them, a doctor…

Immersed in her investigation, she heard a humming, a sough full of pain.

At the base of a near tree, blood was concealed under a pile of snow. The four hairy limbs were cut and put next to a body, trembling with the last drops of life.

Eyes were gouged, the tongue was cut, ears were deafened, and the belly was knifed. Then the body was left to die slowly.

Savannah stood looking at the dying Magus, aghast.

What disturbed her wasn't the gruesome scene. What disturbed her was the hidden inky side that began to reveal.

This was not about the curiosity of doctors, this was more about retaliation, an act of revenge.