Ymdaton watched the swing that would finish his life with no more options to stop it.

Before the monster could complete the move, a small furry beast jumped on its head, emitting angry mewling growls. Crewslayer recognized hunter’s cat. It scratched and bit on monster’s flesh. The false crewman staggered back, trying to get the animal off, yet to no avail. The surprise attack bought enough time for Ymdaton to get up and grab his axe with an unharmed hand.

He used the distraction to attempt another swing. That one became the first that truly connected, cutting deep into monster’s throat. Although the blow lacked strength to fully sever the head, it separated sinew and scratched against the spinal bones. Crewslayer pulled his weapon back with a feeling of satisfaction, but also a glimpse of understanding. The cat finally jumped off its foe and ran away.

Ymdaton stood in a battle stance, facing the mutilated doppelganger. It did not fall despite its head hanging awkwardly on a ruined neck. The thing surged forward. Ymdaton sidestepped the last moment, so that the foe sped past him. He cut the enemy at the back of the knee. Again, the blow that the thing did not see worked as intended, thought Crewslayer. The monster tripped, Ymdaton added the kick to the back, so that the foe fell on its face.

The kinani warrior was upon the pretender in a blink of the eye. He rained blows on the helpless opponent. It tried to shake him off, but the crewman was relentless in his assault. He severed its head properly, then, in few hits, did the same to its arms. He smashed its chest with a butt of the axe, pulverising ribs, spine, and vitals within. He cut off its legs also. He stopped only when his enemy resembled pieces of meat on display in a butcher’s shop. The monster did not move anymore, it looked like Ymdaton inflicted just enough damage.

Crewslayer limped away and sat in a shade of an evergreen tree. There he finally passed out from exhaustion and injuries.

When he woke up, the sun was exactly as high as he saw it the last time. He glanced at the corpse. It was badly decomposed.

“But I couldn’t have slept for so long,” rasped Ymdaton.

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He tried to get up. The first attempt was not successful. His whole body hurt and refused to move properly. With a massive effort he finally managed to stand. Crewslayer caught his breath and then trudged in the direction of the treeline.

Ymdaton slowly moved through the forest. He remembered the way they came, yet on foot, in his condition the journey back was going to be long. He slept and rested a lot, hiding in the bushes or hollow trees. The warrior fed on vegetation: forest berries, roots, since he was not able to hunt. He fought headaches, pain in the body, nausea, dizziness.

At some point a thought began to haunt him: what became of their bakhmats. It crawled through his weary mind, demanding attention. How did beasts manage to escape ties with which they were hobbled. Did they run far away, or would he be able to find one and ride it back to Khladnetz? Soon he could not think of anything else.

As if to answer Ymdaton’s question, a scared steed dashed past him. It carried a battered saddle. Crewslayer turned to see what frightened the animal. At first he saw nothing, but then noticed a looming shade moving between the trees. He tried to quicken his pace. The warrior understood that he was not in a shape to fight whatever could emerge.

He limped and staggered forward as fast as he could manage. The sounds of the movement behind were only getting closer with the time. Finally he accepted the fact that he would not be able to get away. Crewslayer grabbed tightly the axe in his left hand and turned around, intending to hold his ground. No signs of the pursuer could be seen. Next moment from behind a large oak stepped an immense beast.

It looked ferocious: as large as a cart, with thick dirty brown fur, hunched back, and small curved horns. It was a forest bull, old and exceptionally massive. The beast turned its head to the side. Half of its snout was decayed, a dark empty eye socket glaring at the warrior.

A laugh almost escaped Ymaton’s chest. Was this the way it ends, wondered he? Alone in the forest, broken, exhausted in an unsung hopeless battle against a vengeful shapeshifting monster. The beast pawed the ground with a hoof. Crewslayer braced himself for the charge.