Bert swayed as the cart jumped over its uneven path, the main niatra swinging on its chain threatening to hit him in the head while illuminating the cart from side to side. Bert had a much smaller, personal lantern, with which he reached out into the darkness of their surroundings.

It had always been dark, at least ever since Bert could remember, but he could not help feeling the shadow looming over them menacingly today, even if his captain shared no such trepidation.

"Looks like you got a hot rod up your arse Berty! You're giving me the creeps!" he slapped Bert across his back.

"Can't lie cap'n, I hate this." Bert replied, a distant howl raising his arm hair.

"Everyone does Berty, but at least we make money off the fear. See those pouch-sniffers?" The captain pointed to the pair of merchants, which were currently cowering in the midst of their goods.

"They are right to be afraid sir."

"Maybe," the captain said as he sat down. "But as long as we got the light, we are golden son. Those wretched things," he spat to the darkness. "fear this thing as much as you fear them."

"Have you ever seen them yourself sir?"

"Aye," the captain sat down on a crate fixed with rope. He held a part of it too. For all fun and games, even the captain knew his end would come quick in the godforsaken fog. "Saw them just once. Was delivering cargo from Kuret to Bethil. Our light was dim that day. Some fuckers wanted our client to get into an accident on the way, so they chipped it. Hell with the ones who were supposed to protect him, right? Anyway, the light was dim enough for the fuckers to get awfully close. Seemed almost like a rabid dog, the one I saw. But his snout was half-rotten, the maw filled with bright red worms and teeth crooked and sharp. Not a way I wanted to go."

"So what did you do?"

"My crew had been picked off already, but the light was small for me and the merchant. So I did the only thing I could have. Two birds with one stone, young boyo. I threw the merchant at him. Someone wanted him dead either way and I never would have escorted him had I known what fucking liability he was." The captain looked at Bert, his eyes hard and reminiscent of old fear. "But they took their time, I must tell ya. The sounds of chewing and snorting followed me for days. They fed on him, while still tracking me. Fucking demon beasts. What they dont tell you, is that the beasts keep you alive even when you should not be. I could hear the screams during my escape. I spent the rest of the way fearing the lantern would give out on me, that I would become the prey they wanted me to be so much. But you know the golden rule. If you make it out alive alone, nobody will ask questions."

The image of the situation made Bert hold his lantern with an unnaturally strong grip, fearing of might happen would he ever drop it. He never saw a fog-spawn before, but they were known to be vicious and cruel, killing their prey slowly and with wicked pleasure. Now Frank added to The grisly myths. The tales were many and only seemed to multiply on that front.

They sat by each other for a little while, the captain mercifully silent as the horrors flashed through Bert's mind. After a while in the quiet Frank stood up and made his way for another of their group, probably to 'steel morale' with him too. Really, only Bert's captain thought that that should have been spelled with a 'steal', rather than 'steel'.

Bert almost dropped his lantern when the wagon came to a sudden halt, followed by many curses and shouting from the coachman. He quickly stood up to see the problem, but even in the dimness of their surroundings, it was fairly obvious. A darkwood tree was lying across the road, cutting off their route.

"We cannot catch a fucking break!" yelled the coachman Landre when the men assembled.

Bert's heart sank as must have been the case for everybody there. They were already so close to Caligo. Close enough that such an obstacle meant a very far detour and two more days in the fog.

"What are we doing cap'n?" asked Mickey, one of the other group members. His voice was flimsy and wavering. Fear evident in his words. Fear that the captain will say exactly what he was about to.

"We cannot go back boys, this cargo has time stamps on it. The tree is too big to move. Johnny, prepare the axes, Hops and Gura stay with the clients, Bert and Mickey, you are cutting with me. Landre, you take a break. You will have to push the horses further once we start again."

The group quickly worked according to their captain's orders. It was no coincidence that their captain was just that. He had more experience in the ever-dark than anybody else Bert met. He was also his uncle, but that always seemed secondary to Bert. The axes were crude and their handles hurt with splinters making their way into his hands, but they were the only axes they had. They began working.

The wood was incredibly sturdy, taking hit after hit without chipping or splitting. It was notoriously tough, but nobody understood such toughness fully, until they had to make their way through the full trunk.

Bert placed his personal lantern next to him, the stories Frank told him fresh in his mind. He checked it every other swing, fearing that it might grow legs and leave him. The light around him was dim now, as their main niatra was still above the wagon, but it just barely reached them. Still, Bert wanted to have his lantern ready for use, just in case.

"Okay, break boys!" Captain Frank shouted to Bert's and Mickey's relief. The other men could have continued, but if Frank was at least something, he was somewhat considerate of his men's stamina. Mickey used the break to sit on the very trunk he was working on, watching the little hole he managed to make into it with his full effort.

"Now that is fucking depressing." he said.

"It takes a lot..." Bert replied as he heaved to calm himself. He was breathing like that for a few moments, hearing the men behind him laugh and eat. They were making fun of the rookies - Bert and Mickey - but Bert did not mind. He really was a rookie at this.

But something did bother Bert, but he could not figure out what it was. The smell was decrepit, but that was to be expected in the fog, there was nothing overly unusual about their situation, at least not enough to warrant the unease he felt. He did not hear anything out of the ordinary

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Do you hear it?"

"What do you mean?" Mickey asked, somewhat alarmed.

"The howling?"

Mickey stopped and focused on the sounds around him, then he made a face and shook his head.

"Me neither. It's weird. They were making sounds for the full three days, why did they stop now?"

"Maybe they are sleeping? I dunno. I think you are reading a bit too much into it." he said nonchalantly, catching an apple from one of the other men. They were assembling around a small campfire, where Landre had been cooking something up in a pot.

"Yeah, probably." Bert replied as he took his lantern into his hand, calming his mind in it's soft glow.

"That must have cost a shitload and a half."

"Would have. It's a light that is passed to the firstborn of our family. My great great something got it for his service. He was in the army."

"Shit! You mean the first-worlders?"

"Yeah, he was a sergeant."

"Well fuck me. I didn't know I was talking to a hotshot. How come you ain't in a ball or something right now?"

"He was fighting for the wrong side." Bert replied with a soft smile.

Mickey's mouth was left wide agape for a few moments after which he just nodded and bit into the apple. The awkwardness made Bert a little fidgety, so he took his lantern and made hefted it before him.

"I'm gonna take a look what made this fella fall over." He said, but go no response. Mickey just ate his apple, seemingly acting like he did not hear him. As did everyone who learned of his family's heritage. Bert had enough of that, so he just set off.

He felt vulnerable as he moved closer and closer to the base of the tree, since he was leaving the safety of the main niatra. But his personal light was more enough for him and he knew that very well. Still, it made him shiver to enter the fog's space.

The trees were incredibly tall, so it took him a longer time than he would have anticipated, but he started seeing the rough shape of the giant stump before him.

He could not see it clearly yet, but it was a fairly clean cut. So no thunder than.

He moved even closer, to see the stump as sharply as he could, when he moved close enough...

He would have dropped his lantern, if his light did not depend on it.

The stump was bitten through. The marks of incredibly strong jaws obvious on the tough wood. They must have chomped through it only a while ago, as some sort of lifeblood still dripped across the wood. Probably a chipped tooth or something. Were the beasts ravenous enough to eat wood as well? Were they so famished? Why would they even...

Bert noticed weird sounds coming close to where he was. Somewhere in front of him, a little to the left, there was something.

He dared not to come closer, or to speak a word. He only hefted his lantern a little, hoping that it would light up enough of the situation for him to see.

There was another tree there and at the base of it, there was something blurry, moving. But the trunk seemed wrong. It was wide at the top of the tree, but seemed to thin out the lower he gone, it was as if...As if this tree was getting eaten too.

Suddenly, he heard a loud crack of the wood.

He watched in horror, as the giant tree squeaked. As it started falling.

"Move out!" he yelled to the company, but his words were drowned out through the fog.

He watched as the tree fell onto the wagon and his heart flooded with quick relief. Thanks to the gods, the giant tree had fallen out of everyone's way, mercifully sparing their lives. Though it may have been more merciful to end them.

It hit precisely at the niatra, shutting down it's forgiving flame.

Bert watched as the men around the campfire started struggling for their breath, as the fog moved at them. He watched the cart's wheels and wood twist and squeak in pain. Quickly aging and dying. He watched the horse's skin fall down from it's muscle, it's eyes widen in pain. The sounds were cutting him to the bone. Both the men and the horse yelled of pain and torture.

Frank pulled out his lantern, as did a few others. They checked the bodies around them, but they were just rolling on the ground, yelling from the bottom of their lungs. Mickey yelled the loudest, his scream tearing Bert's eardrums even from here, before Frank delivered him a swifter end.

Even this far, Bert could see the stricken man's skin turn purple, his hair fell down from his sculp. His meat dried to his bones.

But Bert's heart stopped beating for something altogether different.

The blurry beast that cut the tree walked close to him, it's head moving unnaturally in an arch, as it passed him. His light was still too strong for this beast, it covered him all too well. But the rest of the men could not say the same. Their fallen comrades were taken to the fog, where the previously lifeless bodies began their tortured symphony again. Screams and cracks of bone filled the air, fueling the beat of the remaining men's hearts.

"Stay in the fucking light men! We are surviving this! Do not break formation! Bert! Where the fuck is Bert! We need your light!"

Bert knew he should run to help, should join his brothers in arms. Should act with humanity in his heart. But he also knew they coveted his light. His niatra, that kept him safe, from the twisted dogs reach. He watched as the beast prowled around them, as it bid it's time waiting to strike.

He watched long enough for him to help, watched long enough for him to reach them. But he did not try.

The beast lunged across the light. Smoke came off it's scorched skin, but it caught Landre nonetheless, bringing him into the fog. His lantern broke as it fell.It picked his skin and torn his hands, it ate his flesh, but even with all those parts missing, Landre still screamed. He was still there, as if waking up every time the beast took another bite. But the beast was not satisfied, it lunged again and again. It's attacks connecting with the man, creating fatal blistering wounds. Slowly all men fell. To the last one.

Frank laid in the last flickering light. The stumps of his legs spilling his lifeblood across the stones. He grabbed his small dagger and with a final twist of his life, he cut his throat from side to side. His body went limp and the last light flickers were extinguished by the beast.

Bert stood there, motionless. The massacre too fast for his mind to understand. He was watching the purple bodies, bleeding across the ground. He was listening as his mates shouted into the air when the beast started eating their insides. He was frozen solid.

The beast turned to him, to his light. It's snout covered by the red blood.

That was when Bert gathered the last of his senses and ran to the city. Alone.