BrokenTree Village, Monster Territory

Hex woke to screams.

He was still in the healing tent, sitting in a pile of rags next to Dracala's cot. She jolted upright at the sound as well, wincing at the pain in her bound and broken wing.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Hex didn't have time to reply, not that he had an answer anyway. The flap to the tent flung open and Shaman Ruben ducked in, a concerned expression on his face.

"You have to go," he said, hefting a pack onto the end of the cot.

"What do you mean? Go where?" Hex asked. "What's happening out there?"

More yelling followed, as Ruben threw an assortment of healing herbs and potions into the pack. "A Culling."

"Here?" Dracala threw the blanket off with a sweep of her good wing.

"I'm afraid so." The dwarf handed Hex the pack. "I've put a few days rations in here. It should be enough to get you to the next village."

"The next—" His appendage trembled as he grabbed the bag. "But my Dad..."

"There's nothing you can do, my boy. They're already piling Monsters in the cages. I'm sorry. They snuck in at dusk. I didn't even know until it was too late." Ruben herded them to the back of the tent and lifted the canvas wall. The scent of smoke wafted through the opening. "It's now or never."

Dracala crawled through first, supporting herself with her good wing.

"What about you?" Hex asked Ruben.

He patted Hex on the head. "Don't you worry about me, my boy."

But I am worried! Why can't you come with us? He didn't voice the concerns. Ruben's expression was stern and confident.

Hex hugged the dwarf's leg and turned to go.

A firm hand stopped him.

Ruben pulled a small, ornamented axe from a loop on his belt and handed it to him. Hex had seen the weapon in a glass case in Ruben's home in the past, but never asked about it. A dark gemstone was embedded in the flat between the two blades.

"It was going to be Rupert's someday," Ruben said as he bowed his head to the painting of his son hanging on the wall. "Creator rest his soul."

"I... I can't take this."

"I want you to have it."

"But I—"

He pushed Hex out of the tent.

Hex stumbled and fell. Ruben's kind eyes and ruby cheeks urged him onward from the opening.

"I'll see you again someday," Hex said, but the canvas was already closed.

Dracala pulled him from behind and he turned to her.

"Woah!" she hissed. "Watch where you're swinging that thing!"

He looked down to see Rupert's axe accidentally aimed right at her. He pulled his appendage to the side, lowering the axe. "Sorry... I'm not used to holding a weapon, I guess."

"Just don't cut off my other wing, you looney!"

He nodded, his cheeks burning red. "What do we do now?" Shouts still penetrated from the village. Ruben told us to run, but... "I wanna see what's happening."

"But Ruben said—"

"We'll go, don't worry," he said. "But I have to know what's happening. Don't you wanna see if your parents are alright?"

Dracala hesitated, but they didn't have time to wait. Hex made his way to the cover of a shrubbery and placed a hand on a branch.

What if what I see scars me for life? Sometimes you're better off not knowing, right? Or worse, what if we get caught because I delayed our escape?

But I need to know.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

A Culling—the topic of so many bedtime tales, mostly meant to frighten young children. But now it was here. Real. In his own home.

No one knew for sure why certain villages were targeted, or what happened to Monsters or where they were taken after a Culling. Rumors from Monsters that had passed through BrokenTree after escaping their own Culled villages suggested they were used as slaves beyond the World Gates.

Hex pictured his father with a large shackle around his waist, using a pickaxe to mine ore for mysterious cruel overlords.

He couldn't let that happen. But there was nothing he could do. He was only a slime. Even Ruben knew it was hopeless.

He gripped the axe handle tighter and pressed his tongue firm against the roof of his mouth. Then he let out a breath, pulled back a cluster of leaves, and peered through the hiding place into the village clearing.

The bedtime stories and subsequent nightmares as a young slime had done little to prepare him for this reality.

It was much worse.

The scene before him was impossible to believe. No... This is someone else's life. Not mine. Not now. These things don't actually happen. Not to my village. Not to my friends.

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The first thing Hex saw was the fire.

Flames raged from thatched roofs and caught on even the smallest tendril of twig or leaf in the domed mud huts. Windows and doors vomited black smoke as the belongings with the homes burned to ash. His own house fared no better, as supports crumbled and the hut caved into a pile of debris.

Next, he saw the cages.

A full dozen of them latched onto the backs of horse-drawn carts. The faces of Monsters he's known his entire life stared out through the metal bars in defeat. Some fought back, swiping paws or talons through the prisons, only to be prodded back by Humanoids wielding dull spears augmented with some sort of lightning that zapped and sparked around the ends.

Almost all the attackers wore dark black armor, with helmets and masks covering their faces. They were so clad in disguise, it was difficult to even distinguish which ones were humans versus orcs or other races.

There was nothing any of the Monsters could do against the captors. Even the family of bears curled in a corner with singed fur and downcast expressions.

Monsters had no magic. No weapons. Claws and teeth were nothing against this.

He suddenly felt smaller than he ever had before—even during the elf attack. Even if he had strength—if he were a wolf or something that could actually fight back—it would make no difference compared to the overwhelming power here.

I'm even more useless than I imagined.

Dracala moved up beside him and looked out into the chaos. Her parents huddled in a corner of one cage. Hex nudged for her to look, but she'd clearly already seen them based on the tear on her cheek.

Even though they hated Hex, he didn't want to see them like this.

His own father was nowhere to be seen. He's small. He's just hidden from view behind the mass of bodies stuffed in the cages. No one dies in Cullings. Not that he'd ever heard anyway. That wasn't their goal. Or maybe his father had escaped somehow.

Hex just prayed to the Creator that he hadn't been in the hut when it caught fire and collapsed, or worse...

Would that be a better fate than whatever awaits the captives, though? He couldn't even believe he had to think about that.

"Go search those tents!" someone ordered. "And scout the surrounding woods. I don't want any loose ends here."

"We have to go," Dracala whispered, rubbing her tears away with a wing.

Hex squinted closer at a distant cage. Is that a patch of green? There, between the spider and the bear. A guard stepped in the way, blocking his line of sight. He tried to angle for a better look, but Dracala tugged on him.

"We have to go!" she repeated.

Human voices grew louder and the sound of footsteps approached.

Wolf pelts. He turned with Dracala and bounced as fast as his body could handle. He risked a glance back, only to make sure he wasn't leaving a trail of goo for them to track. Not gonna make that same mistake again.

Luckily, the path was clear. Thank the Creator.

Dracala barely kept pace with him, her injuries hampering he speed. He slowed to stay beside her.

A loud crash of metal rang out behind them, followed by screams of suffering. Hex and Dracala both jumped, but didn't look back. They just kept running.

Their safety didn't last long though.

"Stop!" a voice called out from Hex's right.

A lone soldier rang toward them through the tree trunks, heavily armored and pointing one of the lightning spears in their direction.

Not good. Not good!

Hex pictured himself and Dracala joining the rest of their village in those cages. That will not happen. I may be weak, but I know these woods better.

He grabbed Dracala and she yelped as he pulled her along by her injured wing.

It wasn't the fastest way to the next village, but maybe...

Hex ducked under a low branch and through a row of bushes, trying to put as many obstacles between them and the pursuer.

Just a little further.

The stomping behind was growing louder. Closer.

Trees around them were becoming more spaced and more were dying and leafless than full. The ground grew damp and grey.

Almost there.

He felt the water beneath him and let out a relieved breath.

That's right, you stupid gnoll farts. I'm a slime and I can walk on water! Bet you can't match that!

Then there was a tug on his appendage as Dracala slowed rapidly, sinking into the swamp. He pulled harder, but she was deep in the water up to her chin and the drag was severe.

In all their previous exploits in the swamp she'd been able to fly over the wasteland. But she couldn't fly now.

"Help!" she shouted desperately, knowing she was holding them back.

The soldier was gaining behind her.

Hex pulled with all his might, hauling her out of the water and onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his head. He bolted forward, just as the soldier splashed into the edge of the swamp.

There was no need to look back. The soldier swore and stumbled. The excessive armor would be weighing him down, even worse in the silty water than on land.

Hex kept running, dancing across the surface of the swamp. Once they cleared the swamp completely, he set Dracala down to run on her own and they kept going. They didn't stop until Hex was sure they were far enough away that no one would track them.

He didn't know how long they went, only that it was as fast and as far as they could push themselves. They ended near one of the main roads connecting the Monster and Humanoid territories.

"Let's stay off the road," he said. No sense escaping just to have them find us again if they're using this road north.

They found a fallen tree trunk to rest behind. Hex leaned against the cold bark, wheezing, his throat scratchy and parched. Dracala was in similar shape, but she reached into the pack Ruben had given them and pulled out a water skin.

"Thank the Creator for Ruben," she said, uncorking the water skin and taking a long gulp.

She handed it to Hex, and he did the same, though it did little to ease the trembling in his gooey core.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"I-I don't know," Dracala said, maybe for the first time in her life. She was always the confident one, the one with a plan. Instead, she wrapped her wings around herself and shivered despite the warm evening air. "I don't think I've ever felt so lost, Hex..."

Hex wrapped his appendages around her and hugged her tight, hoping she would take comfort in it instead of seeing through the facade into his own horrified mind.

I'm far beyond lost. This whole thing is a nightmare. Worse than a nightmare.

Dracala nuzzled into him and he took strength from her warmth.

"No matter what anyone else says..." Like your parents. "You're my sister. We'll get through this together. Like we always do." He didn't really believe his own lie, but it felt like the words she needed to hear.

"I know," she said. "It just doesn't feel that way right now."

Hex said nothing else, only nodded, afraid another word from his mouth would betray his true feelings.

Horror.

Hopelessness.

It won’t be okay. I won’t be okay. Not after this.

Dracala's breathing slowed and her nostrils vibrated as the snoring began. Hex wanted to join her n slumber. His entire body was drained, but his mind wouldn't stop racing, replaying the events in their village over and over.

We have no home. No friends. No family besides one another. We're completely and utterly alone.

He wanted to go back to the village, to find his father. What if he hadn't been captured? What if he'd been buried in the rubble of the collapsed home and was waiting to be rescued?

But he couldn't.

What would happen if he went back and the Culling was still happening? He couldn't fight. He couldn't run again. The only reason he escaped this time was because Ruben snuck them out the back of the tent. He wouldn't' have that kind of luck again. I'll just be captured. Or worse.

And he was supposed to stay safe. For his mother. That's what his father had said. He thought of her... a small light flickering in the recesses of his mind, barely staying lit as it was buffeted by horrors of the day like a fierce wind.

I'll never learn about her now. Maybe that was better anyways. She couldn't possibly live up to the lofty image he'd cultivated in his head. Who could?

He'd stay safe. For her. Like his father wished.

Hex's vision finally began to fade, his eyelids drooping. He relished the sensation, as if he hadn't rested in months, begging sleep to take him—to relieve him, however briefly, from the memories of today.

Then the sound of hooves and cart wheels rumbled up the nearby road.