For Hamoutan, picking up logs wasn’t a task, but rather a blessing. He’d rather be deep inside Hansberg forests, without the intervention of any of his superiors or lieutenants. He had to do it, though, there was no other way to feed his siblings.

Living in the recruit camps was tough, there was a very minute chance that they’d take you in the Coastal guard, and even if they do, you’d be a rookie for who knows how long.

He was evacuated over here from the north of the mainland, where the massacre occurred, leaving him and his siblings helpless and without shelter,as a Nixsteel shelter protected them until help arrived . Until he joined the military.

“37.” Hamoutan whispered.

‘37 logs is barely enough for 2 nights, since there are about 10 separate tents. I guess there’s got to be more.’ he thought and walked forward, deeper into the forest, while whistling.

The soil was getting cooler and more slippery as he walked deeper.

‘River nearby?’

Hamou got down on his knees and listened keenly, no sound of flowing water, but his vision was blinded by the dense concentration of trees ahead. He could smell the wetness and the algae seeping through.

‘Swamp..’ He concluded.

He walked forward, curious.

‘Wet wood doesn’t help, but..’ He stepped on a twig. ‘No harm in going deeper, it’s not yet sundown anyway, despite it being dark.’

Thick fog started to blind him partially, as only the ground was clearly visible, his feet getting cold, and his heartbeats increasing twofold.

A quick wet noise made him stop. ‘Another twig?’

He quickly unsheathed his Brokmane dagger and then another one, as they shined red, a low but faint shine at the cracks of the 2 foot daggers made out of solid bone. He took the position which they taught him at the academy to minimize risk.

The noise kept getting closer, the sound of several footsteps.

1,2..

1,2.

.

3,4,5,6…

It got faster and faster.

Hamou quickly clapped his daggers together, hoping to scare the threat away, the effort was in vain though. Quickly it emerged from the shadow.

There it stood.

Hamou breathed out. It was just a pack of Mossalli, swamp lizards. He’d learnt it in the academy, these persistent little fellas with about 10 webbed feet each make confusing sounds in the mist to scare away enemies.

He shooed them away quickly as the pack was quick to disperse, granted he didn’t mean a threat to them if they were serious anyway. Those things could tear men apart in a flash if they wanted to.

He walked deeper, now feeling cold air blowing towards him, the stink of rotting trees and petrichor intensifying, as he stopped.

There was a sound again, this time against the bark of trees beside him, wet, yet sound of unmistakable feet.

‘Tch! I thought I’d just chased them away! Persistent animals!’

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

“Fast! Before it’s sundown!” A woman’s voice called out, freezing Hamou on his tracks.

The recruit camps only had men.

He slowly sheathed his daggers and lied down beside the wet trunk of the trees, hoping that the bushes would cover his green uniform.

One by one, Men emerged.

Men wrapped in thick black robes, masks and armed with Nixsteel armor and weapons, the smell alone gave it away. There were around 12, 13, no, 15 of them.

“I’m sure I saw it! The tusks of a Brokmane!” one of the smaller looking men, no, boy screamed.

“Brokmanes don’t live in thick forests, you are still shaken by the heist, calm down.” a man, the biggest of them, gestured by putting a hand on his shoulder and patting it.

He then gestured him to stop moving forward.

“Alright Krosch.” the boy said.

“This isn’t time for chit chat! We might be tailed if we don’t get the goods over soon!” A woman screamed.

“It’s not his mistake, we decided to come by this route anyway, the boy is scared. Let him be Sipp. Maybe we should stop here for a while?” Krosch said.

“It’s the fastest way to the harbor, unless you want to be skinned by the nobles.” Sipp said, with a hand on her hips, as she swayed to her slant posture.

The men behind them were pulling through a chariot, with light that shone from the insides, yet it was not clearly visible.

“The Chaktri won’t have enough force to even lift themselves up after this, leave alone tailing us.” Krosch said.

“There is still no need for risk, think of all the men and women dead yesterday for the cause!” Sipp cried out, getting closer to Krosch’s face, staring down at him. “For Kevruk.”

“Fine, no stopping then.” Krosch said as he lit up a cigarette.

“You’d be better off not doing that, you’ll just leave traces.” Sipp said.

“With what, the stench? Well, the Nixsteel already gives us away, what a surprise.” Krosch said and turned back.

“..What has to be done, has to be done now then. For all the lives lost.” Krosch muttered. “Let’s go, no stopping.”

‘House Chaktri has fallen? How? And who’re these guys?’ An abundance of questions ran inside Hamou’s head. But one question burned. ‘Nixsteel? How.’

He laid there like a log, silent and dead.

The sound of footsteps in harmony continued as they got closer to him, and they stopped just beside him.

“Did anybody hear that?”

The men stared at the trees as footsteps of several were heard, from the left, right, straight, above? Noises which could turn an animal crazy.

“How did they tail us so fast?” Sipp said.

“No.” Krosch said, as he slashed his sword in the air, clearing the fog.

It revealed a pack of Mosalli. “These things.”

Smelling the stench of a dead Nixenoch from the steel, the Mosalli dispersed in all directions, running with their tails tucked, changing colors.

But one of them didn’t.

It stayed there beside the tree, screeching, staring, changing it’s colors, it’s tail wagging.

“Ignore it, only frightened Mosalli do this, it’s a last resort.” the boy said.

“What? I studied animal behaviour.” he said as the crew were silent.

Sipp pulled out her knife. “Better to kill it than to let the pack pester us. No half measures.”

“No..” before the boy could open his mouth, Sipp lunged at the Mosalli, however, it jumped into a bush, followed by a whimpering sound.

The men gathered around the bush, not mistaking the sound of a man. The bush was thrown across as Krosch slashed. Revealing a boy, of around 18 maybe, sitting in a fetal position, the Mosalli on his head. It was Hamou.

Hamoutan shivered, he wanted to run, but his feet won’t let him.

“How long was he on our tail?!” Sipp screamed.

“I don’t know.” Krosch said and glanced over at the armband, the symbol of the eclipsed moon.

“Skaus.” Krosch said as gasps filled the crew.

Hamoutan sat up, staring Krosch at the eyes, the entire crew was surprised, as they looked at the boy now stenched in mud, but his features were pretty clear, the origin could not be mistaken.

“The boy… he’s..!” Sipp almost blurted out until Krosch gestured her to shut up, and he placed a hand on Hamou’s head, while kneeling down.

“You have 2 options boy, comply or die.”