Alder’s fingers tensed around his bow as a bush rustled some twenty strides away. The forest wasn’t silent, exactly, forests never were. But today it felt ominously quiet, as if the birds and the squirrels themselves knew to be quiet to avoid attention from the creatures that now prowled their woods.

“I will begin. Make sure we aren’t interrupted.”

Alder spared a quick glance to Edne. The travelling priest was sterner still than usual, and she moved with swift precise movements as she collected flesh from the cadaver on the ground.

Alder’s stomach turned despite him as he regarded the thing, which might have once been a doe. It had been killed by a predator, large, perhaps two days earlier, but only partially eaten.

And then completely savaged.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Claws had raked repeatedly at the creature, leaving its fur and flesh crisscrossed with deep red gashes. Two of its legs had been torn clean off, one severed at the knee where a powerful set of jaws had cleanly severed the bone, the other ripped off with sheer strength. The poor thing’s fur, what was left of it anyway, was covered in dried blood, and the dirt and grass for two paces around the carcass had been stained red.

Alder didn’t consider himself a weak-willed man, but the sight of the massacre sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was the savagery itself or its implication that scared him more. The ravaged carcass would have been one thing, but for it to go uneaten even by carrion feeders two days later... No, there was no doubt possible. Fallbeast.

“Stop staring at the damned deer and keep watch, Alder,” Edne snapped. “Do you want that thing to sneak up on us? I don’t need to remind you that we’re the only humans in the whole valley, do I? This is going to take a few minutes and I need you to focus.”

Alder cursed under his breath and scanned the trees around them again. She might be an abrasive old shrew, but Edne was right. If there really was a Fallbeast lurking in the valley, he needed to be sharp. It could be stalking toward them right now, and Edne would be helpless while she cast her spell.

He turned to check on her and the forest behind her. She knelt in front of a small hastily lit campfire, and gripped the deer’s heart in her hand above the flame. She lowered her hand into the fire, unfazed by the heat, and began to intone in a voice that rang with power. “Merciful Angel, accept this humble offering and grant your loyal servants aid. Keep from us corruption, and guard us from Darkness. May it Be.”

Edne released the heart into the bonfire, and there was a bright flash of light and warmth as it was consumed and reduced to ash before touching the coals. A large column of smoke rose in the air, and the overpowering smell of charred meat and burning coals around the fire made Alder want to gag. Yes, Edne might be hard to get along with, but her power was the real deal.

The priestess rose, not bothering to put out the campfire. No fire touched by the Angel’s influence would consume anything it was not intended to. She turned to Alder. “We should be safe from the beast for now, but let’s not tempt fate. If it is the Angel’s will, we’ll reach the stones by nightfall without complications. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can get back to the Bridge.”

Alder looked around. He didn’t notice any difference after the spell, but he knew better than to question Edne’s words, or her magic. He still scanned the tree line as she packed her tools, though. Trusting in the Angel was no excuse to be complacent. “Do you really think Mikhail is onto something here?” he asked as he looked around. “He wouldn’t just send us out to look at some old rocks in Fallbeast territory if he weren’t sure, right?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter whether he’s onto anything or not. His rank compels us to obey. He told us to check the stones, so we will.”

Alder paused at her tone. “You don’t agree? Do you think it’s true what they say about him? That he’s cracked?”

Edne abruptly looked up from her task and scowled at him. “Don’t put words we could both regret in my mouth.” She tugged at a last buckle and rose, slinging her heavy pack back over her shoulders with practiced ease. “Now shut up and let’s get moving.”

Alder and Edne stayed quiet as they hurried through the forest. Edne’s magic hiding them from the prowling Fallbeast allowed them to move much more swiftly than they would otherwise have dared, but they both kept wary eyes and open ears on their surroundings. As long as they reached the stones by nightfall, before the spell waned, they would likely be safe. Mikhail claimed there would be an old shack on the hill, though it had not been maintained in many years. Still, they’d be fools to spend the night anywhere else with the creature roaming the forest.

“Let’s pause,” Edne said, panting. “Damn, I guess age really is starting to catch up to me. I just need a few moments to breathe.”

“No objections here,” Alder commented as he scanned the trees, bow in hand and arrow nocked. “Wouldn’t mind eating something. Light breakfasts and lots of running aren’t pleasant for me either.”

“Believe me, it’ll get worse.” Edne took a long drink from her waterskin, then put it away. “Alright, I’m on watch, you can—”

A scream cut through the forest.

Edne and Alder both snapped to the direction it had come from. It had been close, on the path to the hill. It took them only a second to start running.

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“What the Hells, Edne!” Alder shouted as he vaulted over a fallen log. “I thought this valley was supposed to be empty!”

“Hurry! Don’t wait for me!” she shouted from behind him. “Whoever they are, the Fallbeast found them! I’ll catch up with you!”

Alder grit his teeth and sped up. It was too late to worry about splitting up. Trees blurred as he ducked and weaved and leaped past the obstacles in his way. Damnation, but he really had hoped he’d be able to get out of there without having to face the damned thing!

And instead, now I get to do it alone. I should have stuck to something safe, like poaching, or pit fighting.

More screams sounded from ahead, and he put the thought out of his mind. All that mattered was speed. He needed to…

He burst into a small clearing, and stopped a split second to take in the scene in front of him. Three humans, standing, one more, kneeling, and the biggest Angel-damned wolf he’d ever fucking set eyes on, getting ready to pounce.

His bow twanged before he’d fully arrested his momentum, but the arrow sailed true. The wolf stumbled as it buried itself deep into the side of its head, took a step, then fell.

Alder stopped in his tracks for a second, marveling at his own shot, then his eyes fell on the kneeling human and his stomach turned. The big man was clutching a bloody knife in one hand, and the other arm hung limply to his side, obviously mangled and torn apart even from this distance. It was a miracle it hadn’t been torn clean off.

“Edne! Hurry up!” Alder called out behind him, “I’ve got on his way fast!”

The big man looked at him dumbly, with eyes barely focused, knife still clutched in hand, and Alder hurried towards him. How in the Angel’s name was he still conscious with that arm? Even as the thought passed through Alder’s mind, whatever sheer willpower was holding the man up ran out, and he fell forward with a heavy thud.

Alder cursed and rushed towards him even as he heard Edne finally arrive to the clearing behind him. With her help, they heaved him over and she immediately sat to look at the arm. “Lady’s mercy,” she whispered with wide eyes when she saw the tattered shreds of the limb. And she set to work.

“Angel of Light and Mercy, mend the bone that has been broken, restore the flesh that was lost, …” Edne’s prayers were fast and utilitarian, and she wasted no time on flowery implorations, or on making the process pleasant to watch. With every chant in her sure, clear voice, bones cracked and flesh rippled. Soon, skin and muscle squirmed and flowed like living things as they were stitched back together, and a series of cracks and snaps sounded from the arm as it twisted and contorted like bent iron under a smith’s hammer, and was wrenched back into shape.

Alder gaped in morbid fascination faced with the grim spectacle of flesh being twisted and molded. He’d known Edne was supposed to be competent, but this was something else. A display of Healing like that… and she was doing it unassisted, in the middle of the damned woods!

“...And preserve the life of your lost child, May it Be.” Edne finally stopped chanting as the last of the man’s torn skin crawled across his arm and sealed shut, and her shoulders sagged. “It’s… done. It’s a miracle he survived the process, but he will live.” She turned to Alder. “I couldn’t finish everything, though. I lack the skill to regrow lost nerves. We’re going to have to delay the mission and get him back to Mikhail. For now, see to the others, make sure no one else is wounded. I... need a moment.”

Alder rose and looked at the oddly-dressed crew now looking wide-eyed at him. “Hey, you lot alright? Your friend’s going to be just fine. Did anyone else get hurt?”

----------------------------------------

“Did anyone else get hurt?” the strange man said, but Camille couldn’t focus on his words. What the fuck had she just seen? The man and woman had blocked her view to Sam, but she’d heard the noises all the way from where she’d stood and…

And his arm was straight again.

She stood, dumbfounded, as the man with the bow spoke to her again. “Hey! Hey, it’s alright, you’re safe now, and your friend’s alright. Is anyone else hurt?”

She nodded dumbly and pointed at Tasha. “Uh… her.” Then she stopped herself. What did I just say?

The dark-skinned man nodded. “Alright, we’ll see to her. Sit down, you’re gonna be fine.” Then he hurried over to Tasha

What… is this language? Camille’s thoughts were moving too slow. It… wasn’t English? Why can I understand it. Why can I… speak it?

She turned back to the man “Uh, excuse me,” she said, cringing at the feel of the strange syllables coming out of her mouth. “Excuse me, what language are we speaking?”

The hooded man looked at her with the kind of concern reserved to lunatics dangerous to themselves, and Camille’s cheeks burned red. “You’re speaking Imperial Common,” he said. “Hey, it’s alright, sit down, you’re in shock. Just sit down.”

Camille nodded, and collapsed on her behind when she tried to sit. “What the… fuck is going on?” She muttered.

The tall gray-haired lady stood up from Sam’s side, and Camille spared a glance for him. His arm was covered in slick crimson blood and the tattered remains of his shirt sleeve, but it was otherwise completely intact. That wasn’t possible. She’d seen it, and it had barely even looked like a limb anymore.

“How do you feel now?” she dimly heard the austere woman say next to Tasha. “Is your arm better?”

“I… Yes. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Tasha answered, sounding and looking confused. She gingerly removed her arm from the makeshift sling Sam had made for her and started moving it experimentally, gingerly at first, but with growing confidence until she started windmilling it around her shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Good,” Edne answered. “Then we can get moving. Your friend is safe, but he still needs help, which I can’t provide. But someone else can. If we hurry, we can get out of the forest and on the road before nightfall, and to the Chapel from there. Where are your provisions?”

“We… don’t have any.” Kaisei answered, and he paused as the words left his mouth, but kept going. “That’s why we were trying to reach the smoke we saw.”

“No provisions…” the woman repeated. “You’ve got Saint Jel’s own luck with you, if we hadn’t been around…” She shook her head. “No matter. Alder! You’ve got rope in your pack, yes? Get it ready, I’ll go chop some wood.”

The two moved quickly, handling a long coil of rope and hatchet with practiced ease, and hurriedly put together a stretcher from two long stout branches lashed with rope netting. All five of them helped lift Sam’s unconscious form to the stretcher.

Camille shared a look with Tasha and Kaisei as the two strangers heaved Sam’s stretcher off the ground. The wolf was dead, they’d met people… They were safe, now, and Sam would soon be alright. They’d accomplished a best-case scenario they couldn’t even have dreamed off

Everything had worked out alright. So why did Camille feel like they’d only gotten pulled out of the fire, and were now headed towards the frying pan?