TJ was too slow to use Divine Transformation as the mountain lion threw itself out of cover and on top of Stanton. Its roar seemed to stun TJ more than mere organic fear would have, and when he realized he couldn’t move, he noted the flashing System notification.

Warning: You are suffering from a minor Stun affliction. You will not be able to move for 1 second, and your Agility will be reduced by 50% for the next 10 seconds.

While TJ was still stunned, he could do nothing but watch as Stanton’s blood was spilled. The old man groaned through gritted teeth as the long claws savaged him. Larger than any cougar he’d ever seen in a zoo, this mountain’s top predator stood at least four feet tall at the shoulder and twice as long. Its brown fur was thick and long for the winter, but it was increasingly more and more stained red with Stanton’s blood. TJ, unable to move, Appraised the mountain lion.

Mountain lion, 4

The only reassurance he got was that the massive predator hadn’t yet reached the fifth level and whatever nightmarish boon it would receive at that level. The second passed so quickly, but even so, Stanton’s body was a mess of ribboned flesh and dripping blood by the time TJ could move. Without care for his backpack, he immediately activated Divine Transformation and lunged at the brutal creature. The feline predator whipped around faster than TJ expected, its jaws seeking the base of his skull. Fangs stretched out in slow motion, and TJ knew he’d die if it caught him.

Wind Manipulation came unbidden to his mind, and TJ pressed himself to the ground, below the beast’s counterattack. Asphalt scraped at his scales, but he didn’t care. The big cat’s fangs clashed loudly overhead, and TJ resumed his own assault. His coils lashed out, reaching for any part of the beast’s body. The mountain lion leapt upwards, escaping his second attack. Again, Wind Manipulation changed the course of the battle as TJ instinctively sucked a huge breath in and pulled the escaping feline towards him. His fangs sank into flesh just above its front right paw.

Blood burst into his mouth as TJ’s body followed his head. His coils wrapped frantically around any part he could reach, but while the predator had been surprised when he’d forced it into his reach, it still fought for its freedom. Claws flashed and cut into his flesh. His scales, scaled with his Toughness, kept the attack from sinking much deeper than a quarter of an inch, but his blood spilled freely to the tarmac. Again and again the cougar swiped at him, while TJ kept holding onto the beast with dogged determination. He felt his body slam against the ground as he wrenched his neck back and forth. At last, TJ was rewarded with the sound of cracking bone and yowls of pain.

Though stronger than a pukwudgie’s, the cougar’s wrist still snapped under a coatl’s attack. As the beast limped and attempted to escape, TJ thrashed again and again while channeling his Wind Manipulation into a long, thin line crosswise above the creature. The winds howled and whistled, and while the cougar couldn’t know exactly what was coming, it desperately attempted to escape. In response, TJ wrapped his coils around its back legs. It hopped, screeched, and fought to dodge his attack. A mere three seconds later, though, TJ willed the blade of wind to slice into the cougar’s spine.

With his concentration on the Skill, TJ felt as much as he saw the wind’s dirty work. Blood flew wildly all around, coating TJ’s face more than it already was. Vertebrae screamed in harmony with the wind and the cougar alike, and it too quickly gave way. The wind was mostly spent, but with its spinal cord severed, the mountain lion couldn’t be a threat any longer. Even so, it had yet to die.

TJ shifted back to his human form as he released hold on the cougar’s front paw. It lay whimpering before him, and TJ’s stomach turned as he looked at the cute catlike face screwed up in agony. Even so, it had assaulted them, and he knew it was necessary.

“Turn… it…” Stanton gasped, “this… way.”

Without questioning it, TJ grasped the scruff of the big cat’s neck and hauled it around so that its head was near Stanton. Now that he wasn’t fighting for their lives any longer, TJ actually looked at the heavily injured man. Both of his forearms were sliced to ribbons of flayed skin, blood flowing freely and covering his seemingly frail body. His face sported a couple of relatively minor scratches, but the cougar’s hind feet had found purchase on the old man’s stomach. Two parallel lines of four ugly furrows were cut into Stanton’s abdomen, the shirt so wet with blood so thick that it nearly looked black.

The old man had Suzie in his hand, and he leveled it at the cougar’s head. TJ stepped back, and the gun coughed only once before the death notification appeared.

Mountain Lion, 4, slain. Experience gained.

No level. Even so, TJ glanced at his HP, MP, and Stamina, and was surprised to see that only his MP was showing any danger of running out at 118/230. His Wind Manipulation was a wonderful boon, but it was far from a flawless Skill, given how quickly it chewed through his MP. More importantly, though, Stanton also didn’t look like he’d gained a level. The old man gasped wetly. No blood stained his mouth, and TJ hoped his longs hadn’t been punctured, but he couldn’t say.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Start your Skill!” TJ commanded as he stepped closer and kept a sharp eye out on the surrounding forest. Any sound could be another attacker, and every second that they needed for Stanton to heal himself could prove deadly.

Stanton didn’t feel the need to verbally answer as he drew life from the tree he leaned against. His breathing grew more steady while the tree visibly wilted. Pine needles fell in droves and TJ kept his eyes peeled on any shadow or flicker of movement. Making sure he could see, hear, or smell anything nearby, he shifted back into his coatl form and flicked his tongue madly. Nothing else seemed to be nearby, but the thick scent of blood from both the coyote corpse and Stanton’s many wounds covered most anything he could smell anyways.

About two minutes later, Stanton groaned. TJ didn’t take his eyes from their surroundings as Stanton forced himself to his feet. When TJ glanced at him, he couldn’t help but remark, “You’re not ready to be moving.”

“Out of MP. Can’t heal any more. My head’s killing me.” Stanton grunted each sentence.

“Alright. Get out into the center of the highway, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Once the older man had stumbled to the center line in the highway, TJ shifted back to his human form and gathered both packs in his hands to carry there. Stanton groaned and settled into an uncomfortable sitting position, his hands wrapped around his stomach. His arms’ skin still hung loosely around the partially scabbed over wounds, but they no longer bled quite so profusely. The cuts on his face had faded to angry pink scars, and TJ felt a surge of hope. Surely Stanton’s stomach weren’t quite so bad.

The weeping wounds begged to differ. Where the claws had cut through flesh and organ here was far more serious than the flayed skin on his arms. The healing seemed to have prioritized the different spots strangely, because TJ couldn’t see any intestines or other organs inside Stanton, but he still had the wide cuts. On his face, there were no wounds at all, and though his arms looked agonizing, they’d progressed well on the path towards recovery. It was almost as if each wound was given the same amount of energy and then healed as best as it could. If that was the case, his battlefield healing, already so unwieldy with its reliance upon the strength of the surrounding nature, would be hindered even more.

“How long before you can heal yourself again?”

“Dunno.” Stanton grunted.

“Fine. What’s your Intelligence? You’ll get that back every hour, and we can see if that’ll be enough to heal you up over time.”

“25.”

“Ok. I’ll carry you along for a while after we get you bandaged.” TJ stated. It was a testament to exactly how injured Stanton was that he didn’t complain at all at the possible indignity of being carried around like an invalid. When TJ pulled the bandages from his pack and finally pulled the shredded remains of Stanton’s shirt from his wounds, he saw firsthand how badly he’d been savaged by the creature. He had to fight to keep himself from puking out the mandarin oranges and beans that sat heavily in his stomach as he pressed several thick squares of gauze over Stanton’s wounds. Then, keeping a worried eye out on their surroundings, TJ wrapped the wounds as tightly as he dared. Around and around went his hands, and though Stanton continued to breath deep and with obvious pain, he didn’t complain. Several minutes later, Stanton was as cared for as TJ could manage, and he finally realized that he’d need to figure out how he would carry their provisions and the frail man at the same time.

Both backpacks were large and unwieldy, made to carry everything a person could need, and as such were packed full of necessary equipment and food. That said, their destination was mere miles away, so would it be worth it to ditch one of the packs for now? TJ quickly decided that for now he would try to carry everything. He cinched the packs together as best as he could, the webbing designed to carry external supplies wrenched out of place and twisted together to tie Stanton’s slightly lighter pack to stick out behind TJ’s. Then, the hundred pounds of supplies precariously perched on TJ’s shoulders, he proffered both arms to Stanton. Though the old man made a face, he didn’t complain too much before getting into TJ’s arms in a sort of a baby/bridal carry.

Loaded up with way more than he’d ever thought possible, TJ’s legs shook beneath him. Even so, he stepped forward, trying his best to retain control of everything in his arms. After all, it wouldn’t be too long before he could take a break, right?

Step after thudding step seemed to crash into the ground below as TJ walked down the slope towards Pine. Before he’d left, a part of him had lamented leaving behind the cougar’s corpse and leather, but with each painful stride, he was grateful for what little restraint he’d shown. Even so, he suffered with each movement, though not nearly as much as Stanton did. Finally, with a gasp and an attempt to lighten the mood, TJ asked, “What do you know of The Morrigan? The Pukwudgies called you that.”

“I already told you. Not much. My grandpa was Irish, probably comes from him.” Stanton’s own breaths came in gasps and starts of pain.

“Have you asked the System? It won’t tell me much about other people’s Bloodlines, but I’m curious.”

“Then be curious.” Stanton replied flatly, his tone so grumpy it was nearly pissed off. “This is information you don’t need. If someone else wants to share, they will.”

TJ nodded his head, helplessly pursing his lips in acceptance as another step slapped against the asphalt underfoot. It was true, he supposed. He didn’t need to know the details of a different goddess, since what he needed to do right now was to survive. And walk. And walk.

His ambitious plan had been to take a break only after thirty minutes of solid jogging. Then, it’d become a hope to walk for twenty minutes. After fifteen minutes of slogging along at a painful trudge, TJ’s body demanded rest. He stumbled over towards the nearest tree, keeping his eyes peeled for any new ambushing bullshit, and, as best as he could, gently placed Stanton beside a tree where he could work his magic.

This… was going to suck.