The thick black tires of Martin's pickup roll to a stop in the clearing, just outside of the fated treehouse.

This was it.

The two stepped out of the vehicle and slowly approached, both scanning for threats, adversaries, guards, what have you. They stood the advantage of standing just downwind of the home, Andy able to pick up on the many aromas within. Still getting a knack for this scent thing, he could hardly distinguish one odor from another, but he still picked up on a few interesting details. The smell of cinnamon, the faint traces of pickled meat—one scent stood out among all others, that being the immutable smell of dog. Andy had a feeling he knew who it was coming from.

“He's in there,” the boy said under his breath.

“...You sure?” asked Martin. Andy nodded.

“Positive. That can't be anyone else.”

“Alright. Let's move—and be careful.”

Wind continued to pick up in the clearing, even when braced by the wealth of trees surrounding it. The sky had darkened further beyond the norm for a star-filled night—the clouds moved in like a pack of hungry sharks. Andy could feel the light drizzle of the coming rain on his nose.

So how would they go about their entrance, then? Only one way in, it seemed, the most obvious point of entry. No doubt whoever was inside heard the roar of the engine and saw their approaching high beams. When they reached the ladder at the base of the tree, the pair looked to one another.

“You go,” Martin said. “I'll watch your back.”

Andy nodded, then went on ahead up the tired rungs. With each step up the ladder, the pit in Andy's stomach continued to grow. He felt like the helpless character in a grim fable, like Jack climbing up the beanstalk to be met with the giant. Warily, he looked down, again and again, making sure that his father was still in one spot. Martin scanned, back and forth, the large clearing they had set themselves in.

Clok. Clok. Creaaak.

Andy had reached the final rung. He looked to his father one last time before pulling himself up. The moment he was on the deck, he heard the distinct pop of a firearm. Andy ran to the edge of the lofty porch, looking over to see his father locked in combat with Tanya, the girl having Martin held in a tight headlock. Shouting, the boy nearly vaulted over the railing to rescue his father, but his shoulder was suddenly grabbed. Andy was hoisted into the air—he turned to his attacker, tall, pale, eyes filled with tempered rage.

“Well well,” said Davis. “Look who it is.”

Squirming, writhing, kicking, screaming—Andy did anything he could to break from the grip of his giant adversary. Davis shrugged it all off, hardly flinching the whole time. He dangled the boy over the ledge for a moment, then let him drop.

Tumbling from around fifteen feet in the air, landing right on his back, the boy let out a dry wheeze when he made contact with the cold hard ground.

Oof.

Davis followed, leaping down, the earth quaking with his hard landing. He looked over to Tanya and the old man—Martin was already bound, uttering a desperate prayer beneath his breath—good.

“Tie this one up good,” Davis said. “I think it’s time we had ourselves a little chat.”

…

The flick of a matchstick brought the faintest light to the room. They'd been sat in the darkest, smallest corner of Davis's home after being hoisted up. It was quite claustrophobic once the flame of a lit candle illuminated their surroundings. Many trophy skulls, pelts and other works-in-progress coalesced back here.

CLUNK.

A large wooden mug was set on the table, sticky beer splashing over the rim. Davis sat down right behind it, raising the mug to his lips and taking a big swig.

“I'm surprised it took this long for you all to pay me a visit. Don't you think you're cutting it a little close?”

Andy strained against the vines. The thorns digging into his skin practically begged for the drawing of blood. He could feel his canine teeth extend slightly, the boy letting out a low snarl. Davis sighed.

“Guess it doesn't really matter. You two aren't getting what you came for. No, we're just gonna sit here, nice and proper, and wait, and while we wait, I've got a few things I'd like cleared up. Do you know what your old man does for a living?”

“He's—he's a park ranger,” Andy said. “He protects the woods from people like you.”

“Protects?” Davis laughed. “Is that what you were doing, while your family was crying for help?”

Martin would attempt to lunge at the man, but hadn't moved far with how tightly he'd been bound. It must have humored Davis, the pure vitriol stirring in the room at that exact moment. The man lightly chuckled and set his mug back down.

“I mean, where was this energy before?”

“Shut up!” Andy roared. “You—you murderer! You ain't got no right to be runnin' yer mouth, antagonizin' us folk! We ain't done nothin' to you!”

Davis did a double-take at that comment. A series of complicated microexpressions lit up his round face.

“…On the contrary, Junior. You very much did something to me,” the pale man spoke as he turned to Martin. “You wanna tell your boy what that is, Mr. Kessler?”

“...I don't know what you're talkin' about.” Martin said. Davis’s face grew red.

“Oh, don't you? Well let me give ya a quick refresher,” he said as he stood. “A couple of months ago, you came to these woods. Only, you weren't doing much protection then, either. No, you were on a hunt.”

WHAP. Right in the middle of the table, Davis slapped a stained piece of paper. Martin's expression fell as he recognized what it was—guilt crept into the creases of his forehead, like rainwater pooling into the cracks of a sidewalk. It was the orders Davis had collected earlier—the orders to kill him.

“Not sanctioned by the NSP, mind you. This hunt was sponsored in part by the Natural Order themselves.” Davis said. Andy blinked and side-eyed his old man.

“You was…workin’ with them before?”

“We was runnin’ short on cash,” Martin huffed. “The bank was threatenin’ to seize the farm. The Order, they was…fanatics, but they had money, an’—I figured, if we caught this monster they’d kept warnin’ the station about, we’d be in the clear. I really thought they was just talkin’ about some kind of bear.”

“Right,” Davis said. “But he didn’t stay as a ‘bear’ for long, did he? Not after you shot him.”

“...No,” Martin said.

“Who,” Andy stammered. “Dad—who did you kill?”

Creak.

A girl, a little human girl, stood apprehensively in front of the group. She clutched tightly onto the arm of a stuffed bear, tugging on Davis's pant leg with her free hand. Davis relented, placing a gentle hand on her head, crouching at her side.

“Honey, I thought I told you to stay in your room.”

“You're loud,” Elena squeaked. “Who are they?”

The man looked over his shoulder at the bound pair.

“Those are the bad men, honey—the ones that hurt Papa.”

Elena froze, white-knuckling the teddy. Davis moved to block her view. After a moment, he gestured to Tanya to take Elena back to her room.

“Papa?” Martin asked.

“My son,” replied Davis. “You shot him, at least a dozen times, and when you were done, you just…left him there.”

“I couldn't have known.” Martin said.

“Is that your excuse? Ignorance?”

Andy squirmed in his seat. Davis turned to him.

“What, is there something you wanna add?”

“I...get why you're mad. But—what you done, it didn't solve any of that.”

“An eye for an eye. Davis said, leering at Martin. “You took my son, I'm taking yours.”

“Except you went two-for-one, didn't you,” Martin said. “Wasn't enough to have my son, you had to take my Sugar away too?”

Briefly there was a hint of something on Davis’s face. “...She got in my way. That was her own mistake.”

Once again, Martin jolted in his seat, arms straining against their binds, his fingers wanting desperately to wrap around Davis's thick neck. The pale man hardly reacted, raising the mug to his lips.

“Tell me, what are you here to do again,” Davis asked. “Kill me in front of my little girl, is that it? What makes either of you any better than me? We're all slaves to vengeance. The pursuit of justice is hard-coded into our DNA. The only problem is, not everyone's vision of justice happens to align. When anyone feels slighted, even should it be deserved, the retalliation is always swift. It could be as simple as talking back when scolded, or as complex as our family feud. Inevitably, there will come a time where two brands of justice collide, only one able to come out on top. When you killed my boy, you created an imbalance in justice. The scales are simply swaying back in my favor."

Martin scowled. “You think this is justice?”

“I do,” Davis replied. “And whatever comes next for you and your boy, that too, is justice.”

Sitting back, Davis checked the clock on the wall.

Knock, knock.

Ah. Speak of the devil. Just as he wondered what was keeping his companions, they seem to have arrived. Davis rose from his seat, draining the last sip of his coffee and setting the mug aside. He crossed the room to the tall door and paused, nose twitching.

The man suddenly tensed, and took a step back—just in time, as the door was kicked in, wood splitting off the hinges.

Standing just outside, three knights of the Natural Order brandished their weapons and began to charge in, one after another. The first opened with a vertical slash of his longsword. Davis shuffled to the side, barely out of the way, the blade getting caught in the floorboards. With both hands, Davis grabbed the first knight by the shoulders and head-butted him with a resounding clank.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The second knight followed immediately after the first, sticking Davis in the side with her spear. The wound immediately began to sizzle from the weapon's hot silver—Davis roared in pain and fell to one knee.

Just then, Tanya slid over the man's back, leapfrogging into action as she drove her heel right into the second knight's stomach. The spear-wielder flew out the door, knocking over her third companion in the process. All the while, Davis retreated further into the home to recover. It was time for his bodyguard to earn her title.

In the background of all the chaos, Andy was hard at work trying to cut himself free of the vines. It was tough, they were tough, but then again, so too were his claws. Their bind weakened just a hair by Tanya's distraction, Andy slowly worked his way through, filing each wrap down until they fell apart.

Once freed, Andy went to work on Martin's bindings, and once those were loose, the two took cover behind the table. The boy dug in his bookbag—inside, the crystal ball quietly hummed. When had that...?

“Looks like the boys got my message.” Martin said quietly. The man lifted his head just above the table to take in his surroundings, searching for his confiscated weapons. It wasn't as though Davis put much effort into hiding them, having haphazardly tossed both revolvers onto the kitchen counter. As Tanya performed a lethal ballet with the swarming knights, deftly deflecting one blow after another with her knife, the father-son duo crawled across the floor.

Hushed, they moved below the chaos of the fight and reached the counter. Martin grabbed the guns, checked them hastily. They were fully loaded. He handed one to Andy and held the other himself.

The boy shuddered. He’d never fired a gun before—no matter. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He couldn’t let the fear control him now. They had to find Davis.

Andy retraced the pale man’s steps down the hallway, listening closely for his breathing beneath all the ruckus.

Schff—the sound of something sliding. It was just beyond the closed door, positioned at the left hand side of the hall. The boy hesitated, gripped the knob, and pulled it wide open, pointing his firearm out in front of himself.

There, in the warm candle-lit room, stood Davis with his back turned to Andy. He was at a window, sliding it open with Elena beside him. She looked terrified. The sight of her made the boy’s stomach curdle, freezing him in place.

There was no time to think. No time for fear or regret. It was now or never.

His hands shook as he took aim at Davis’s bulky figure, fingers resting lightly on the trigger. All it would take was one pull, and it would be over.

Still, he hesitated.

Sensing a presence behind himself, David slowly turned around. His eyes met Andy’s, their irises reflecting off one another. There was a chilling calm in his gaze. He could see it right there. That boy couldn’t pull the trigger.

The pale man lowered, grunting softly as blood oozed out his side. He allowed for Elena to climb onto his shoulders, then, swiftly as she did, Davis vaulted out the window.

Just as this happened, Andy was being shoved to the side—Martin, fire in his eyes, opened fire on the fleeing Werewolf, barely missing the pale man’s head by a few inches. Click. Click. Out of ammo. Martin snarled and threw the weapon down in frustration.

“God damn it, Andy!”

The old man yanked the still-loaded weapon out of the boy’s shaking hands, then stormed into the bedroom. At the window, Martin caught just the faintest fleeting glimpse of Davis, down below, charging away from the scene. Holding his breath, he readied, aimed…

BANG!

In the dark of the night, further obscured by the woods, it was tough to gauge the results of the shot. Either way, it was likely to draw unwanted attention.

WHUMP.

Just then, in the other room, a body tumbled into the ground. The boy looked over—he saw Tanya, hyperventilating, scrambling backward. A spear went straight into her stomach.

Andy jumped at the sight of it, squirming all the more when he realized the Elf was still fighting back—the mortal wound hardly phased her at all, and the opposition would take note.

“Damn, she's still goin',” one of the knights said.

“Of course she is,” the other responded. “Didn't you do your homework?”

The two exchange an awkward glance. As the knights stared, Andy approached cautiously, Martin close behind his back. The old man encouraged him to get a move on with a knowing glance down the hall any time Andy looked back. One knight, the taller of the two remaining, looked Andy up and down before lowering his spear.

“You the one who called?” asked the taller knight.

“That would be me,” Martin said, stepping out in front.

“Right. We've got orders to get you two back to the compound.”

“First we ought to track down that wolf,” suggested the shorter of the two.

“Shouldn't be too tough,” said Martin. “I reckon I tagged him on the way out.”

“Let's not waste any time, then.”

The group made their way out the fractured doorway and down the old ladder, spilling back into the woods—Andy was the only one who remained at the top, hesitating, deliberating with himself before he went down. His eyes shifted to Tanya, the girl pinned to the ground, writhing in pain. Deciding on the merciful thing, the boy approached and gripped the spear. Their eyes made contact for a moment.

“If I let you go, you ain't gonna do nothin' stupid?”

Tanya squinted her eyes and nodded.

“Good,” Andy turned and looked back outside. “...'Cause I don't want Davis killed, neither.”

A few deep breaths, Andy's fingers danced along the pole-arm's handle. He gripped it firmly, stuck a foot on Tanya's shoulder, then, counting down from three, he ripped it out. The girl shot up and clutched her stomach in pain. As the boy heaved, recovering from the rather gruesome feel of it all, Tanya slowly got to a defensive stance on her feet.

“Andy?” Martin called up. “You comin’?”

Tanya cocked a suspicious brow. She readied her knife—Andy put his hands up.

“Hey—hold yer horses—! Didn't you hear what I just said,” the boy lowered his hands as Tanya slowly lowered her weapon. “There's a lotta things I wanna do to Davis, but I...I don't want him dead.”

Martin called once again. Sweat dripping from his brow, Andy gestured to the girl's wound.

“Listen, I'm in too deep, I don't know how to fix this on my own. I need help. How fast can you recover?”

Fast enough. Scrutinizing the boy just a little bit more, Tanya gestured down the hall with her head, beginning to work her magic. Back to the bedroom, the two went straight to the window. After the wound in her stomach had been sealed, Tanya crawled outside and waited for her cue to drop down. Martin called again—this time, he was beginning to climb back up the ladder. Andy nervously drummed his legs, catching on to what the plan was but not being sure if they had the timing necessary to pull it off. Was he really about to jump from this high up?

The wood of the entryway creaked as Martin pressed the weight of his heel down—a surprised shout from the other room prompted Tanya to silently drop, and without a moment's more of hesitation, Andy would follow. As he vaulted over the edge, his arms flailed, he struggled to keep himself from screaming, and as the ground quickly approached—WHOUMF—he'd land, just loud enough to attract the attention of the soldiers. The taller knight took a step toward the darkness Andy was stood in, his eyes then going wide—just behind the boy he could make out the Elf girl's coiled hair bouncing along the trail of blood.

“Wh—hey! Stop!”

Right. They had to leave.

Andy started his sprint—the knights did not follow. Rather, they dashed to the right, and after vanishing for a fleeting moment, that was when the boy could hear the sound of hooves clattering after him. He didn’t care to look back. Quickly Andy stumbled along, dodging the underbrush, the rain really beginning to pour.

Ahead, Andy could hear Tanya's soft strides, her form coming into focus as she dipped in and out from behind the tree line. On his way to catch up with her, he clumsily ducked, hopped and rolled out of the way of the oncoming woods. A good few twigs grazed him in the face. Andy could feel the sting of poison ivy along his shins. It didn't matter. He kept pushing forward, following the scent of blood, going, going, until the rainwater became too slick, and the boy slipped across the leaves and onto the ground.

The knights on their horses very quickly caught up—like vultures, they circled Andy, helmeted heads scanning their surroundings for his wayward accomplice.

“What are you doing,” the tall one asked as Andy got to his feet. “Has the infection gotten to your head?”

Before Andy could answer, the ground beneath the horses erupted, the steeds rearing, squealing at the sight of thorny vines bursting out of the earth. The shorter of the knights was thrown off her horse entirely as it dashed into the darkness—the tall one held fast, but none for the better, as his mount was very quickly toppled by the encroaching tangle. The horse fell onto its side, crushing the knight's leg underneath it.

Out from the darkness, Tanya stepped, her hand outstretched, fingers twitching along with the spell. She nodded to Andy, who had just gotten to his feet---funnily enough, the boy was already waving at her to knock it off. He appeared more worried about the poor whining horse than his own life.

Rolling her eyes, Tanya kicked the taller knight in the head once to knock him out, then released the spell which bound his steed. The creature got to its feet and trotted a few paces away. The shorter knight was catching her breath, still wheezing, crawling to her knees. Using her short-sword, she managed to prop herself up, just in time for Tanya to knock it out from under her.

Splat. The woman fell in the mud once more, Tanya striking her head too for good measure.

Over the hill, the two could see the headlights of Martin's truck illuminating the area. Sniff, sniff—taking a big whiff, Andy found he could still pick up on Davis through all the rain, even if his blood might be washed away—tugging on Tanya's arm, he ducked behind the brush and began running perpendicular to the vehicle's direction.

Along the way, he dug through his bag and pulled out his orb. The boy scowled at the thing, feeling as though he was being watched. He wasn't sure how, but something Martin had done must have allowed for the Order to track them—or perhaps, they've been able to watch Andy this entire time—he couldn't be sure.

All he knew now was that the thing was a liability.

Winding up his good arm, Andy chucked the orb into the trees. It shattered on impact, leaving behind nothing but glass and pixie dust.

Ugh...even with it gone, a prickle of discomfort crawled up his spine, the winds of unease just as cold as the rain water. He brushed it off as best as he could and continued toward Davis's direction, flanked by Tanya on one side.

Of course, with his wounds, Davis did not make it very far. In the darkness just up ahead, the silhouette of his large figure cradled his granddaughter close. The menace and intrigue of the one called Elder was reduced to naught but a wounded animal in the woods. His eyes flashed in the dim light as the two approached, laden with fear and frustration—a cornered beast, ready to lash out at any second. In the moment, Andy's heart ached for the man—but it was fleeting, as all the resentment he'd harbored swang back around with a bitter vengeance. He could hardly stand to look Davis in the eyes.

“...Is she okay,” Andy asked, looking at the little girl. Davis nodded, continuing to stroke the sobbing girl's head. With reluctance, the boy offered Davis a hand.

“C’mon, we're gonna get you some help, alright?”

“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “Nope, I think I'm done. They got me pretty good.”

The pale man removed his hand from the wound in his side---the bloodstain had grown significantly since they last saw him, the wound itself continuing to smoke.

Andy just about gagged. “You can just heal fast, can't you?”

“Not this, kid,” Davis said. “Not silver.”

“Don't say that,” Andy said with a frown.

"Listen to the boy, Davis,” an unfamiliar voice---something else dropped from the tops of the trees; a pair of hooves and a pair of feet. Elders Fia and Balrog—so they're the ones Davis called.

“You are going to be just fine,” spoke Fia as she crouched at the man’s side. The fawn got to work right away, attempting to suture the wound with her magic. Davis gasped and groaned and gave a bitter laugh.

“Nn—what took you so long?”

“I do not mean to alarm,” Fia said. “But we find ourselves in a rather dire situation.”

“What kind of dire?” asked Andy.

“Humans—Natural Order—gathering at the western gate. They remain inactive for now, but I have doubts of how long it will last.”

“What?” Davis winced. “Damn it—how did they find us?”

Andy sulked a tad, looking off to the side. “...That one might've been my fault. I reckon they've been trackin' my crystal ball—its how we was talkin'.”

Fia froze up. Her upper lip twitched.

“They can locate us...with the balls?”

“You didn’t know?!” Andy cried.

“Of course not,” said Fia. “That is—that is a titanic flaw with our security!”

“Can't be all bad,” Balrog said. “They need a face in mind and a personal phrase to connect.”

Davis shook his head. “Only the phrase can really be anything—any sort of link you have with the other party. Every soul you encounter is irreversibly intertwined with your own.”

“Right,” said Fia. “There may already be several compromised individuals inside our borders.”

Cici, Andy thinks. Cici, Vick, all of them, they had no idea—and so long as Martin knew their faces...

“We have to warn everyone!”

“Agreed,” Fia stands, snapping her fingers as she finishes her spell. “Elder Balrog, you return to the gates. I will contact Hudson to make the announcement. Elder Davis, Scout Tanya, boy…”

The three looked up at attention.

“You three take Elena to Black Peak. Do not speak with anyone—straight to your quarters. Do you understand?”

They all nodded in agreement. Fia clasped her hands.

“Excellent. Positions, then, everyone!”

The Satyr made haste toward the south, Balrog moving to the west. Helping Davis to his feet, the unlikely group followed Tanya toward the east.

Just in the distance, they could hear the revving sounds of Martin's truck. Andy quaked. He gagged. He felt as though he was going to pass out. This might have been his only chance to get his life back, and he was throwing it all away. Worse yet, Andy knew by now Martin would stop at nothing to get him back. At some point soon, they may meet again, and boy, had he dreaded the thought.

Hell hath no fury like a man scorned.