The cold water felt good. It soothed the fire that burned everywhere. He wanted to just absorb it into himself.

Water? He sprang back to consciousness. He’d fallen into a stream. Where were…there! He tried to leap into action but his body wouldn’t obey. So he crawled, snagging Emokha and Oresus with leaden fingers and slowly dragging them to shore. He couldn’t stand.

Fine. That was fine. His arms were in a bit better shape than his legs. They’d been partially sheltered by his companions’ bodies so they’d taken less abuse. He dragged himself across the ground.

Alive. They were alive.

Dying. They were dying.

Too many wounds. Too much blood loss. Exhaustion and shock. They were dying.

There were monsters in the area. Not right on top of them, not yet, but within range. Some were terrified. Some were dying. He directed all regeneration to his brain, lay there an indeterminable amount of time.

Ah. He’d suffered significant damage. No wonder it’d been so hard to think. Allowing the regeneration to flow naturally again he pulled Oresus’ pack loose, each movement as arduous as the run he’d just completed. His body was in terrible shape. But he could do it. Now that he wasn’t running it was just a matter of not giving up.

There. He knew Oresus had to have a few healing potions squirreled away. Three. He poured one down Oresus throat, just a trickle at a time, holding his head and forcing him to swallow. It was agony to sit up like that, but it was necessary.

Should he…no. He poured half the second one down, then laboriously dragged himself over to Emokha. It took a solid fifteen minutes but he got one and a half into her as well. It probably wouldn’t be enough. Their wounds weren’t all that deep but they were covered with them, and they’d lost so much blood.

A thought struck him, and he began riffling through Emokha’s bag. When his hand encountered them he had to laugh. Then he had to stop. Gingerly he touched the barely closed wound on his throat. No wonder it hurt to breathe.

Three more healing potions. He repeated the same procedure, one and a half for each. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but it was all he had. Now for himself.

There was a very good chance a monster would wander by and eat them all. Hell, the swarm could still be headed this way too. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about either in his current condition. He was going to have to take another chance and hope for the best. He detached.

...

Some sort of fugue state. That must have been what it was. He’d focused so hard on just a few things that his whole being had narrowed to those tasks. He hadn’t known he could do that.

Sizing up a tree he broke off an appropriately shaped branch, then moved on, looking for another. Truth be told, whatever he had done it didn’t seem all that useful. His capacity to remain relatively dispassionate and rapidly analyze his situation was one of his greater strengths. Setting it aside seemed sub-optimal. He broke another branch.

Sure, it had allowed him to push past his physical limits by a significant margin, but he could do that to a limited extent by simply accepting the related damage. And that was without losing his ability to think clearly. Ah, there was some good grass. He carefully ripped it free.

Fortunately this fugue state thing didn’t seem easy to activate. He’d just have to be careful to avoid reaching a similar state to the one that had triggered it. Hopefully that would be doable. One thing was for sure- if, in the near future they encountered that weird bug swarm again they were sure as hell going around it!

There was another nice-looking branch. Oh damn it. He dropped his load and dashed back. Snatching the mauler ocelot by the neck he smashed it bodily into the nearest tree trunk. “How many times do I have to tell you fuckers? They’re…off…limits!” He emphasized each word by ramming the monster’s skull into the tree.

A quick glance showed that Emokha and Oresus were untouched, still resting on the grass. He’d been in time. He spared time for a heartfelt glare at the dead creature in his hand, then tossed it on the pile. Damn scavengers were swarming. He needed to hurry and finish the stretcher. They couldn’t stay here.

But where should he take his friends? The options weren’t exactly overwhelming. The swarm might have passed by now, but the lull they’d left behind them wouldn’t last long. Many monsters had fallen before them, but the paucity of prey left behind just made the survivors more voracious. Already the smaller scavengers were creeping back. The more dangerous creatures couldn’t be far behind.

He needed to lose them, and his friends were far too injured for speed to be an option. They needed some time to rest and heal or else the force of his flight would probably finish them off. So that meant stealth, but there were no suitable terrain features in the area, and he didn’t have much in the way of tools. They’d lost a lot while running.

One pry bar had somehow stayed tucked into his makeshift weapon sash, and combined Emokha and Oresus’ battered packs yielded a variety of personal and survival gear. Blankets, clothes, canteens, some spices and a few random cooking utensils. Everything else had spilled out or been cut free under the swarm’s onslaught. The items would help keep the injured comfortable but weren’t going to do much to ensure survival otherwise. Privately he questioned why Oresus had ever packed a whisk, collapsible or not.

If there were no good hiding places in the area and he lacked the tools to build one quickly then obviously they had to move, but the question was in which direction? No, strike that. The important thing now was buying time. If Emokha and Oresus recovered a bit he could try to pick a destination that made sense, but for now what mattered was how they traveled, not where.

He needed to move in a way that wouldn’t jostle them overmuch, while at the same time preventing tracking. That meant using the stream. If he waded in it his scent would be mostly washed away. Upstream or downstream? He had no idea where the source was, but streams tended to join together to form rivers or terminate in lakes. Either would allow more options for concealment than he had locally, so that was settled.

In good time too. The stretcher was finished. It was just branches lashed together with dead grass supporting blankets, but the design was unconventional. There were two beds side-by-side, and no handles to speak of. It was awkward, flimsy and impossible to use with less than three normal people. But it would work.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

By imbuing it he could hold it together, and with his strength he could hoist it on one shoulder. He’d be badly unbalanced but that would be fine as long as he kept one foot imbued to the ground at all times. That would make him slow, but he needed to move at a reduced pace anyway, so that was fine.

Carefully he tucked the patients into their cradles, making certain they were lying straight and secure. Hoisting their packs on his right shoulder he carefully imbued and brought the oversized stretcher up on his left. There.

Awkward, ungainly, unsightly and uncomfortable, but it worked. Terrific. Stepping into the stream he set out.

...

The waterfall wasn’t much to look at. Just a little nine foot drop punch bowl waterfall. Barely even representative of the name.

Under the current circumstances though it was life itself. Using a combination of imbue and his pry bar Gloe was able to carve out a tiny little cave behind it. Just big enough to fit his two friends. He used their sole remaining scrap of tarp to temporarily divert the flow and sneak them and their bedrolls in one at a time. When he let the water fall freely again and took a careful sniff he sighed in relief. Their scent was barely detectable even right up next to the water. He’d carefully washed them off in the basin and the fall was covering the rest.

They both had fevers, so hopefully the cool water passing by would help with that. Well, more accurately Oresus had a fever. Emokha was also hotter than normal but he had no idea what that meant for a Viluota. Hopefully their physiology was similar enough that he wouldn’t kill her trying to treat her.

That was for the future though. At the moment he had more pressing concerns. His friends were relatively well-hidden and comfortable. They could rest and heal. He’d left all the food in there with them too. If things went wrong there was at least the possibility they could recover to the point where they’d have a chance at making it out alive.

He had to deal with another matter. Not every monster tracked using their five senses. There was at least one that could find them even concealed as they were. He had to try to deal with it. If Emokha and Oresus didn’t get some solid rest and recovery time they weren’t going to make it, and he wasn’t going to find a better place than this. He had to make his stand here.

Without an axe or edged weapon he was forced to break the dead tree the hard way. He could made a stone or bone tool but he wasn’t sure he had the time. So he relied on an ongoing percussive assault. “Think this is the first time I’ve had to punch a tree? Think again” he muttered to himself. Fortunately it wasn’t too large. Also it was already dead, so once he’d made sufficient progress he was able to use careful imbues to aid him in snapping it off.

After that he had to break it down to the required length, which took just as long as the first cut. Stripping the bark was fast though, as he was able to imbue the trunk and bark separately and just rip the latter free. Good. Now for the next step.

Even strengthened glass was easy to break with an imbued rock, and by carefully controlling his imbue of the glass he could exercise limited control over the size and shape of the shards. Good. There was the potion bottles taken care of.

The pointed edge of his pry bar allowed him to score short grooves into the trunk, and some tree sap aided in slotting the glass shards neatly therein. It wouldn’t hold under any sort of force, but it kept their orientation consistent for now, and that was all he needed.

Good, but the clock was ticking, and this was the part he was the most worried about. He didn’t normally try to do this with strict time constraints, and he wasn’t sure he would have enough time. Nothing for it but to try though.

Sitting down next to his makeshift contraption he closed his eyes. Demonlings. He called to mind demonlings. Every encounter, every scrap of information he had on them. Every wound they’d given him, every one he’d killed.

Once he had his limited understanding of their essence centered in his mind he focused in. He only wanted one of their aspects. Unfortunately one he didn’t have an overwhelming comprehension of, but it would have to do. It certainly couldn’t hurt. He breathed it out.

The process continued until he was out of time. A pity. He could have fit more, but again, it would have to do. Standing, he stretched. Then he leapt to the top of the tiny cliff overlooking the waterfall.

Carefully he inserted his pry bar in the predesignated spot. Then he sat down again, waiting. It wasn’t for long.

The melovai didn’t stalk in. It was far too carefree and confident for that. If a monster could be said to swagger then that would be the best description. In the periphery the beast was nearly invulnerable and it knew it.

Its casual attitude made luring it into the proper approach vector a snap. All Gloe had to do was adjust his position slightly and cower in fear. The melovai was indifferent to strategems and ploys, trusting in its overwhelming defense.

And rightly so. Once it was in position Gloe took a second to test the matter, imbuing and trying to kick the monster off the cliff. Its hide absorbed the force almost totally, and its fur barely rippled. Impressive. One way or another it could nullify incoming impacts. No wonder it was so confident.

Gloe kicked the pry bar instead. The portion of the cliff he’d pre-weakened collapsed, taking the melovai with it. The damn thing clearly wasn’t immune to gravity, and as hoped, it plummeted.

A measly nine feet or so, but the waterfall basin was deep enough that the creature was momentarily submerged. It didn’t turn out to be a natural swimmer, but the pool wasn’t that large. It was able to flounder free by half-walking along the bottom until it reached the shore. Somewhat disoriented and anxious, but unharmed.

Its defenses didn’t obviate the need for oxygen, but it hadn’t been underwater long enough for that to be a real problem. It had been caught off guard and without taking a deep breath first, but it made it to shore in time to remedy the issue. All it needed was a quick gulp of fresh air and it would be right as rain.

Water still clouding its vision as it emerged it couldn’t quite make out what was around it. But air was the important thing. It opened its mouth to take that crucial breath.

Misfortunate that its prey was standing there, waiting. That the trunk shoved down the gaping maw was shaved down to just the right size to fit. Just the right length that it all fit down the throat, leaving no protrusion to claw at. That the embedded glass shards all hooked backwards.

Choking, gagging, retching, the melovai writhed on the ground. It couldn’t dislodged the obstruction, no matter how it clawed or vomited. At first it was merely confused. The fit wasn’t quite tight enough to prevent the flow of some air, so although it was choking it wasn’t yet suffocating. Pain and injury were fairly alien concepts to the beast, so initially it saw this as a minor inconvenience. A digestion issue or some such.

But as the log failed to move panic began to set in. The monster had never encountered an intractable problem before. It didn’t know what to do. It began thrashing around more and more violently, trying to knock the hazard loose. As its supply of oxygen was used up and only partially replaced its agitation worsened. It rent great furrows in the ground around, to no avail.

As its heart raced the demonling poison breathed into the glass shards began to take effect. As the pain and weakness intensified the creature’s throes did so as well. It was completely maddened, ripping trees apart in its fear and rage. Choking and weakening all the while.

It was a horrible way to die, and it took a very long time. Honestly, Gloe felt bad. If he could have ended the monster’s suffering more quickly he would have, but its impenetrable hide prevented that. Of course he didn’t regret killing the thing. Its ability to use some sort of sixth sense tracking meant that he couldn’t hide from it, and his friends were in no condition to run. It had to die so they would have time to recover.

But still, despite the way these creatures had relentlessly stalked them, Gloe felt somewhat guilty. Cruel. Those irrational responses couldn’t torment him, but he tried to honor the sympathy they sprang from. If he ever had to do this again he’d try to find a more humane method.

For now he had accomplished his mission. With the area’s melovai dead Emokha and Oresus could rest in their hideout. Conditions weren’t good enough from them to actually recover, but if he could get them healthy enough to bear the jostling of travel his options would increase considerably. There was a chance they could actually survive.