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Audix's low growl drowned out the dwindling patter of raindrops on the water-logged grass. Had the cat not been soaked through by the seemingly brief and unexpected deluge of water, Nevin wouldn't have been surprised to see every hair on the cat's body standing at attention as the two apprehensively searched the shadows moving beneath the pines on the opposite side of the secluded clearing. And while the cat stood stiffer than week old bread, Nevin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, wringing his hands together as he waited for whoever was moving about in the dark to finally step out and reveal himself.

Or 'itself'. He shuddered at the thought.

The pair didn't have to wait long. As the disturbances surrounding the goat-headed effigy stilled and the high-pitched squeal faded, a number of tall figures emerged from the bush line at the clearing's edge. While each appeared at nearly the same moment, they did so from different points along the circumference of the meadow - actors unwittingly answering the cue of an unseen playwright. Sharing looks of confusion and uncertainty with one another, the group stumbled into the muted sunlight and brought the already troubling day to a dangerous crescendo.

The group consisted of eight soldiers, a mixture of men and women alike, dressed in rugged travel garb and sporting an assortment of clubs, axes, and bows. One - a middle-aged man whose dark, close-cropped beard mirrored the hair on his head - had a long, curved blade strapped to his right hip and wore a cuirass of interlocking leather plates. He strode into the clearing with a level of confidence his companions lacked, and when he slowed to gather his wits, the rest of the pack gravitated in his direction.

If the group had noticed the boy and his cat sharing the clearing with them, they didn't immediately react, and Nevin wasn't going to give them the chance.

“Aidux, run!” he shout-whispered, scooping his discarded satchel up with one arm.

Nevin's boots slipped on the wet grass as he dashed for the tree line, threatening to dump him on his face with nearly every step, but safety took precedence over stability, and the thought of twisting an ankle or worse never even crossed his mind.

The cat, his attention riveted on the newcomers, was a bit surprised by Nevin's unexpected outburst and sank deeper into the grass instead of running. He called out in a similar manner, but in Nevin's fervor, all he could make out were the words 'already tried' before his own heavy breathing muffled the rest of the cat's message.

The young man covered his face as he breached the clearing's edge, but didn't slow. Tree branches and pine saplings reached for him as he passed, clawing at his bare arms and attempting to pry the leather satchel from his grasp. He hugged the pack to his chest and ducked around a crooked boulder.

Eyes going wide, Nevin tried to plant his feet, but it was already too late.

The slope rapidly degraded on the other side of the half-buried boulder, and Nevin found himself listing backward as his feet slid out from under him.

A wave of rain-slick pebbles, soft mud, and pine needles tumbled out beneath his flailing feet. Sucking air, he dropped onto his backside and unwillingly rode the tiny avalanche down the embankment.

A tangled web of roots stretched out beneath him, and thinking quickly, Nevin drew his boots together and planted his feet. The gnarled wood complained beneath his weight, but held strong. A downward slide became forward momentum. Clutching the satchel tighter still, Nevin braced himself for a mid-air somersault, praying that any loose rocks or twisted roots would pass beneath him and he'd land safely on his right shoulder before rolling to his feet.

He closed his eyes, held his breath, and leapt free from the ground.

Chill air rushed over his damp body as the world rotated around him.

Without the grinding cacophony of tumbling rock drowning out the noise of the forest, Nevin thought he could barely detect a faint, high-pitched squeal digging its way through his brain.

Countless grass stalks surrendered beneath him as he rolled across his back, the soft ground hugging his body as he passed, thankfully free of any obstacles capable of cracking a rib. As his heels came down, he opened his eyes and grunted the air from his lungs and stood, leaning into the momentum and preparing to sink right back into a full-on sprint.

Instead, he immediately slid to a stop.

Somehow, Nevin had found himself back at the edge of the clearing, with Aidux peering dejectedly in his direction.

“No...”

He stumbled backward, nearly losing his footing on the wet ground. This can't be happening.

Across the clearing, the soldiers had gathered together in a tight cluster around the dark-haired man, their raised voices an incoherent tangle of fear and anger as they argued with one another. The dark-haired soldier stood silently among them, gazing out past the goat-headed effigy to appraise the flustered young man who had just tumbled out of the woods.

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Unable to accept that something had drawn him to this strange clearing and didn't want him to leave, Nevin turned once again to the trees and broke into a run.

Beneath the darkness of the trees, a gaunt figure took shape, and Nevin once again skid to a stop.

“Who are you?” he called out, his voice shaking. “Why are you following me?”

Wreathed in shadows as it was, Nevin could barely make out the mysterious figure extending a pale hand in his direction. Palm up and fingers wide, the hand beckoned him to take it.

It tempted him to reach out and accept its silent offer.

It urged him to pull it close and surrender himself completely to its embrace and-

Nevin shook his head, squashing the strange thoughts rushing through his head. His stomach roiled, his intestines wrapping around themselves in tight, queasy knots. His legs shook uncontrollably. The satchel dropped to the ground as he clutched his aching belly, fighting the urge to spill his insides onto the grass.

You need me.

The words came at him from every direction at once, vibrating against his skin like a swarm of angry insects. Again, he jerked his head side to side, drawing short, ragged breaths through the coiling pain in his guts. He pressed his hands to his ears, hoping to drown out the intruder's voice and the growing high-pitched squeal, but the sounds were strong enough to completely ignore the meager barriers of flesh and bone.

You can't run.

Nevin sank to his knees, his vision swimming as the words reverberated through his mind.

Maybe the voice was right. He couldn't run. Gods, he was so tired. Exhausted even, from little sleep, from hiking, from hiding, from all the stresses of running for his life. He'd never wanted to rest so badly in his life. Just sit back, close his eyes and-

Give up.

He nodded. He didn't know what the strange figure wanted, who it was, or even what would happen if he gave into to its urgings, but as the energy bled from his body, he felt his arm lift of its own accord and his hand reach out to grasp the figure's own and just-

Fingers like iron bands wrapped themselves around his forearm and jerked him to his feet. Nevin's eyes fluttered open, and found himself looking up into a drooping black leather cowl.

An army of dazzling white motes swam tight circles within a pair of shining blue eyes.

“Are you hurt?” The voice, deep and gravelly, dragged Nevin back from the brink, and he felt his energy returning. The darkness receded, and the knots in his gut unraveled, finally allowing him to catch his breath.

Theis steadied Nevin with a hand to the shoulder. He took in the full height of the young man, checking for any obvious wounds.

“Are you hurt?” he asked again, softly this time, and Nevin thought he detected a genuine hint of concern in the man's tone.

“I'm...okay.” Nevin pulled his forearm free of the man in black's grasp. He leaned to the side and peered around Theis, but the gaunt figure lurking beneath the trees had seemingly vanished.

Aidux loped up beside the two, all of his razor-sharp fangs on display in an excited grin. “Theis, am I glad to see you!”

Theis grunted in response, offering the lynx an awkward pat on the head, and act which Aidux gladly arched into.

Nevin crossed his arms and shot the man a dirty look. “Where have you been?”

“Got lost. Turned around in the dark.”

Aidux nodded up at him. “Yeah, the voice got us, too.”

“Voice?”

The cat glanced over his shoulder at the stone effigy. Theis followed his gaze, then looked past it to the group of soldiers milling about beyond.

The band were definitely aware of the three of them now. Their dark-haired leader swept a hand in their direction, gesturing to the two archers and directing them to fall into position at opposite ends of the clearing. The pair each nocked a single arrow and split off from the group, with one hopping up on top of a termite-eaten stump and the other navigating through the rubble of the collapsed hovel to overlook the clearing from a pile of soot-stained stones. The remaining soldiers readied their weapons and turned to approach.

“Something's really wrong,” Nevin said, unconsciously wringing his hands. “I tried to leave the clearing, but I just ended up back here. Aidux, too.”

Theis nodded, his attention back on the goat-headed effigy. “Think I know why. And what to do about it.”

He toed the leather satchel with a boot. “Gonna need that weapon. If someone makes it past us, just keep it between you and them until one of us can get to you.”

“What? You're gonna fight them?”

“Not if I can help it.” Cracking his neck, Theis strode into the heart of the clearing. “Cat, guard the boy.”

Aidux offered the man an exaggerated nod and stepped protectively in front of Nevin. “Won't be the first time!”

Dropping to a knee, Nevin hastily went to work on the frozen straps securing the metal object in place. Nearly the whole top flap of the satchel was coated in a thin sheet of smooth ice, but it shattered easily beneath his hands. Wrapping his fingers around the coarse stone grip, Nevin knocked the tip against the ground until the majority of the ice coating cracked and fell away.

Hefting the object with both hands, Nevin stood. How little it weighed, this storm gray metal 'weapon'. Would it be able to any damage, should push come to stab?

Nevin retrieved Dalen's bronze canteen from his belt and took a long draft to loosen the rocks filling his throat. Even after a thorough cleaning, the bitter taint of sour apple wine still fouled the taste of the otherwise clean river water.

When the time came, could he really hurt another to save himself?