Yaosen’s sleep was fitful, and his dreams were unhelpful. A wispy, long-fingered form reached out to him, over and over, and he recoiled from its touch.

Every time it opened its mouth to speak its voice was thin, as if far away.

“What do you want?!” Yaosen finally shouted.

The frail thing’s head whipped to the side.

It turned a hollow face back toward Yaosen, vague depressions suggesting eyes, and it screamed a bloodcurdling scream.

***

Yaosen leapt up from the hard ground upon which he slept. Things at the edge of their campsite darted back at the movement, lambent overlarge eyes watching him.

Long white teeth glimmered in the moonlight, as if smiling.

One reached a long clawed hand out toward where Duu slept.

“No!” shouted Yaosen, spinning to his feet in a vortex of flame that sent all the shapes at the edge of their campsite yelping and scurrying away.

Torun was beside him in a heartbeat, dead treebranch held aloft as if it were a meteorite blade.

Torun didn’t have to ask what had awoken them, as the gaunt shadows loped around them, snarling and whooping now, yellow eyes boring into them hungrily.

Grunt was on his feet too, pawing at the earth and mock-charging every time something got too close. But Duu was still groggy, and Yaosen had to lift her from the ground with one hand. With the other he sent a flame-fist at a creature that drew too near, sending it scurrying back.

They seemed not to fear Torun with his club as they feared Yaosen’s fire. It was a mistake for one, who charged the Meteor Knight and got a solid thump for its indiscretion. It yelped and retreated into the darkness to regroup.

Yaosen pushed the now awakened girl behind him. Between a series of flame fists directed at their assailants, he ignited Torun’s tree branch.

“There’s too many,” Torun barked, now brandishing the torch to much greater effect.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Yaosen cracked a whip of flame, sending two fleeing into the night with smoldering hides. But Torun was right; there were too many. Even if they started killing indiscriminately, for every creature they turned away, two more took its place, and soon Yaosen was considering if he should somehow draw them toward him and immolate himself.

Duu pulled on the hem of his gi. “The river!” she said.

Yaosen chanced a glance backward and saw that the growing pack was hemming them in against the edge of the gorge, and a long drop into turbulent waters.

Yaosen let out a frustrated growl, and attacked with renewed fervor. Two, three went down screeching with pain before succumbing to the flames. The pack around those didn’t even wait for the flesh of their comrades to finish burning before tearing into them.

Yaosen’s eyes went wide as he realized something in the firelight of battle.

The creatures wore clothes. They were ragged torn scraps that barely covered the strangely elongated bodies, but they were certainly meant to be garments. Or perhaps once were.

“The creepers,” Yaosen wondered aloud, “Were people.”

“The river!” Duu shouted again.

“I know!” Yaosen sent an arc of flame around his group, seeking only to buy them time to think, rather than actually fight off the horde, but they were giving ground every moment.

“No, Yaosen,” Torun shouted, “The river! It's our only chance.”

Yaosen peaked behind him. It was a drop of twenty or more paces, past completely sheer walls. The day’s journey had taken them far from the place Duu had been able to climb down so easily.

He didn’t like it, but a chance at survival – however slim – was worth the certainty of death. At the very least they would deny these monstrous, half-human creatures a meal… even if it meant death by drowning.

Yaosen looked to Torun suddenly, and the hurt was plain in the old Meteor Knight’s eyes. The river wasn’t a chance at survival. It was the certainty of a swifter death. Torun wasn’t planning how to keep them alive, he was planning on sparing Duu whatever these creatures had in store for her.

“Ach, I hate drowning,” Yaosen said, preparing to push Duu into the gorge and leap after her.

Suddenly, the pack froze. They lifted their heads, testing the changing winds. They redirected their focus, snarling low.

These were no longer the whoops that signaled the end of a hunt, the closing in on a kill. These were the sounds meant to intimidate. These were the sounds meant to ward off a challenger.

A roar responded, and at that roar a cool third of them turned and ran. The rest might have wished they did.

Metal clinked, teeth gnashed, and fur flew. One great and terrible antler tore through the side of the pack as the bearmoose rampaged a line straight through them.

“Now’s our chance!” said Torun, rushing into the gap left by the bearmoose and laying about him with his torch to keep it from closing.

Grunt followed him, and where the creatures got too close, they found only the wolfboar’s tusks.

Yaosen scooped up Duu and sprinted, sending periodic thrusts of firebending through his feet, lending speed to their flight.

“Alright,” said Yaosen, turning back and looking upon the destruction the bearmoose was carving through the scattered remains of the pack, “We’re even.”