Oakley was in trouble from the start. With a whole pack of five creatures that looked as close to skinned dogs as he could imagine, he didn’t believe he had much hope at reaching the next tree, let alone a spot of safety.

Within seconds, Oakley’s route had been cut off by one of the dogs and he found himself surrounded. He had no idea what to do, or how to proceed. He thought fleetingly about trying to climb the tree beside him, but the dogs would be able to claw and bite at his back before he’d have a chance at getting high enough.

What happened next confused him and gave him a chance to break free. As the dogs got closer to try to bite at him, they didn’t use their teeth. Instead, they opened their mouths, similar to how Oakley had seen snakes do on television. Two of the dogs unhinged their jaws and revealed more of their insides to Oakley. To him, they didn’t look natural in the slightest. Both of the dogs had so much fungi lining their throats and the roofs of their mouths that he wouldn’t have been surprised if their entire inner workings were made of mushrooms.

A deep green gas, almost like a green pollen, started to bubble up out of their throats. Oakley didn’t wait to see what the gas would do. He kicked out desperately at the nearest unhinged dog and took off running once again.

The two dogs that had tried to release some spores took a moment to collect themselves, the one that was kicked whimpered slightly. One of the dogs tried to give chase to Oakley and ran into the temporarily stunned dog. The final two were hot on his tail straight away. This time, Oakley decided he didn’t care if they tried to attack him while running, he just wanted to get away. If he fell, he fell.

The dogs were menacing, but as he tried to weave between the trees, pushing ever forward in the direction he had been going since the cave, they never once bit at him. Oakley tried to kick out at one that got a bit close, but nearly tripped over, so he didn’t try risking it again. He was realizing quickly that all the cool action moves he’d seen in films were much more difficult in person.

So, he just kept running. Oakley suspected that the dogs couldn’t bite at all. Whatever kind of mushroom- spore issue they had going on, it was hampering their ability to be as effective as the canines he had expected to be facing. He was still struggling and the effort he was exerting to simply keep moving forwards to avoid being cornered again was pushing him to his limit.

Oakley was starting to wonder if the entire world that he had entered was made up of some unending forest hellscape. The trees were ever-present, the brown of the bark consistent and mocking. Was this how his life would end? Being run to near death only to be breathed on by sick dogs?

Finally, what felt like the first miracle in a long line of misfortunes. A break in the tree line.

Pushing into his view, Oakley could see a tall grey wall. It wasn’t as high as the tops of the trees, but it would be tall enough to keep these dogs away. The wall appeared to be made out of stone and stretched out wide. There was a short distance of open space between the tree line and the start of the wall. From his first glance and staring at it desperately as he ran towards it and away from the dogs, it looked to be the outer wall to a small town or village. It didn’t look too well made, but it must have been doing its job.

Oakley broke out of the forest and felt the sun hit his skin properly for the first time in days. The wall was only fifty meters away and he was closing in on it quickly.

“Help!” He shouted, terrified that the lack of cover might help the dogs race around him. “Help me, please!”

His throat was raw due to dehydration, but he croaked the words out, reaching the wall, which had two large wooden doors in it. Oakley slammed his fist against the doors and turned to watched the dogs reach him, slowing down to savor their once again cornered prey.

“What’s your business here, traveler?” A gruff voice rung out from atop the wall.

Oakley looked up and saw someone looking back down. The man had a thick brown beard and was covered in brown leathers. He clutched a bow in one hand and held an arrow in the other.

“…Survival?” Oakley said, confused as to why the man wasn’t immediately helping him with the threat.

“Oh, those pesky things? Never met a man that couldn’t handle a few fungkines before!”

“Please, I can explain everything later just help me out please!” Oakley shouted, his voice rising slightly in panic as the dogs all started to unhinge their jaws and begin to bubble up the ominous green gas once again.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Righty-o,” the man said, nodding to himself. Oakley saw the man duck back down behind the wall and began to mentally berate himself. He should have been more polite to the stranger, asked in a less aggravating tone, perhaps even- “I’d cover my face if I were you.”

The man had appeared back over the wall, with the arrow knocked. He leaned over and aimed the arrow down at the dogs. The reason the man had ducked down in the first place was evident; this arrow was also on fire.

The green gas, or flaking spore clouds, had begun to reach out, beyond the dogs’ snouts, and was close to touching Oakley, he jerked back as far as he could, pressing himself against the rough, rocky wall.

He closed his eyes and lifted his hands up to cover his face like he was instructed. He wasn’t entirely quick enough, however, as he saw the flaming arrow speed down and connect with the gas cloud that was inches away from reaching Oakley.

The gas immediately ignited, like throwing a match onto petrol. The flame passed from the arrow, through the gas cloud and into each of four of the dogs, shooting inside them and turning the rabid creatures into explosives. Oakley ducked down to try and avoid the worst of the explosions, but he felt meat and bone splatter against his head and his back. Something sharp pierced into his lower left torso. It felt white hot, but that was likely just the pain, not the actual temperature.

Instinctively, Oakley grabbed at whatever it was that was now sticking out of him, and pulled. Even more pain shot through his body as he looked down at the bone shard that was lying in his hand.

There was one final dog, however, that hadn’t fully released its gas cloud and hadn’t been close enough to light up along with the others.

“You sure you need help with just one?” The man called down.

Oakley could tell he was slightly mocking him, but after seeing how easy it was to stun the creatures and how they were unwilling to attack, instead opting to spread their spores, he was confident he could take this one on.

Oakley clutched the bone shard in his hand, as if it were a dagger, and lunged at the dog, before it could recover from having its jaw unhinged. He threw the bone shard into its open mouth and then kicked upwards, forcing the jaw closed again. The dog swallowed instinctively and started choking. Oakley saw the bone stick out of its throat and watched a trickle of gas begin to release from the side of its throat. The gas latched onto its exposed muscle, searing away at the top layer. Oakley now understood why the dogs were skinless.

An arrow shot down from above, putting the dog out of its misery, too.

With the immediate threat dealt with, Oakley slumped against the wall and then fell down into a sitting position. His legs felt as if they were on fire, too weak to keep standing any longer. He fumbled for the glass bottle and took a swig from it, trying to stave off dehydration. He hoped he would be able to buy a more certain drink- or even just water- in this town.

There was a heavy, metal clunking sound as something scraped behind the gates that Oakley rested beside. He watched as one of the wooden doors opened and the same bearded man walked out to greet him.

“Quite the state you’re in,” the man said, chuckling and holding a hand out to help Oakley up to his feet. “I’m sure to ask what sort of mayhem you were getting up to in Graveyard Grove, but, for now, let’s get you inside. You look like you could use a stiff drink and a bed’s rest.”

“Those both sound… brilliant,” Oakley nodded weakly, accepting the man’s arm and allowing himself to be pulled back up to his shaky feet. “You said Graveyard Grove? The forest?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” the man nodded seriously. “That ‘forest’ stretches out for what must be weeks’ worth of travel. Right out to Nortrin Outpost, if you’d believe it.”

“Wow…” Oakley nodded, trying to sound impressed. He was curious about the concept of the forest being potentially wide enough to take weeks to navigate. He must have gotten extremely lucky with his navigating. If he’d gone any other direction, it would have taken him much, much longer to escape that place. “Could I ask your name?”

“Of course, you can,” the man said, before pausing and then breaking out into laughter and slapping Oakley on the back. “Just a joke, don’t you worry yourself. The name’s Frederick Loggson. I’m one of the Wallwatchers here at Branchkeep. Usually, we don’t have much to do, besides scaring off the odd wolf or bear. You’ve given me quite the bout of excitement. I’ll take you over to the chaplain, to get you checked out, as long as you assure me you’ll join me for a round at the inn this evening. On me, of course.”

Oakley was too tired to try and eye the larger man up. He was being suspiciously kind, but Oakley suspected that Frederick was like this with everyone. He had no reason to lie to Oakley, that he knew of.

Oakley sighed. He was exhausted, could barely stand on his own and only knew two people in this strange land. He couldn’t immediately start suspecting one of those two people, especially not when he was actively trying to track the other one.

“That reminds me,” Oakley mumbled.

“What does?” Frederick said, turning to look down at Oakley as they walked through the wooden gate and he closed it once more, securing the village of Branchkeep. Oakley didn’t fully answer his question, focusing more on getting his own question out into the world.

“Have you seen someone pass by here, by the name of Paerilith?” Oakley asked. “Clad in nearly all black, green skin?”

“As it happens,” Frederick said, raising a hand to rub his chin as he thought, “yes, about a day ago, maybe two? Why, was he a friend of yours?”

“You could say that,” Oakley mumbled, swaying on the spot. The pain in his side where he’d pulled the bone out was stinging more by the passing moment and his vision was getting foggy.

“Buddy? Buddy?” Frederick’s words faded into nothingness as Oakley passed out, his vision going dark as the world turned around and around before him.