Rane continued to run long after the sun rose into the sky, sending beams of its blinding radiance through the foliage above.

His heart was pounding out of his chest, yet still he ran. He didn’t know how far he had gotten, but the light of day did nothing to dampen his fears.

He was well aware. Monsters didn’t only prowl at night. They were much more frightening than that. The radiance of the sun did nothing to deter their fiendish motives.

Eventually, Rane stumbled and fell to the ground of the dense forest, sliding on a thick layer of wet leaves until his shoulder caught on a root, bringing him to an abrupt stop.

Rane lay there, no longer moving, but his body still shook. His heart was racing. His sweat cooled in the soft breeze, causing him to shiver. His eyes were crusted, and his thoughts were a mess.

He needed to calm down. He knew that, but he could not. He sat up against a tree, letting the strong trunk be his place of respite as he rested his legs, limply sprawling them out in front of him.

He controlled his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He repeated this until his heart stopped trying to escape through his ribs. His mind was by no means tranquil, but he had to stop and think things through at some point.

But he was not ready to think. Not yet.

Tears formed around his eyes as he thought about what happened. About his squad. About what he did.

Rane knew that he was not strong. That lesson had been learned when he met the head of the Auryck house. Had he been asked if he thought himself truly strong, he would have said no, but his actions did not reflect that. The mind was fickle, and he had let himself grow arrogant. He was skilled, valued, and even to a degree, respected. He was even someone to be relied on. Well, not anymore.

His eyes leaked the same precious liquid that his throat demanded, leaving clean streaks down his filthy face.

Rane felt as if there was a lump in his throat, rising without warning. He leaned over and gagged, his throat scraping against itself as he heaved, unable to expel much from his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.

He sat back up straight, his body shaking with tired sobs. He struggled against them as the images of their deaths played back in his mind. He opened his eyes wide and tried in vain to focus on the trees surrounding him, but that did little to erase their images. Erick’s last look of surprise. Puddle’s stalwart defiance. The broken sword that clattered to the ground.

He thought of what his father told him, all those years ago. Swords couldn’t kill monsters.

*****

Rane woke up to the unmistakable sensation of an insect crawling on his face. In his panic, he squashed it against his cheek, adding to the layers of grime hiding his features.

He groaned, sore and thirsty. He patted his clothing. His waterskin was nowhere to be found.

He moved his tongue around in his mouth. It was made rough by the lack of liquid, and he could not manage to wet it with saliva. A deep breath through his mouth was a mistake, nearly throwing him into a fit of coughing when he again felt a presence.

He immediately fell silent, his eyes wide like a prey animal caught unaware.

Unlike the animal though, Rane wasted no time in stasis. He immediately bolted, looking anywhere for a place to hide. His ambient was still withdrawn, and he dared not flare it to help him find what he was looking for.

As he ran, he turned his body, his head, and scanned everywhere. The presence was no monster, but was stronger than himself. Likely high brazient. This was no boon for him. It only meant that it was closer to himself.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He finally found something. On a short hill, there were the roots of a large tree, exposed by rain washout. It was a pity that there was no water flowing, but the space was large enough for him to squeeze into, and deep enough for him to hide within its shadows. There was a small amount of light at the back of the hollow, which came from a smaller hole on the other side of the tree, evidently where the water flowed into the space from.

He stilled his breathing and waited, the presence still thick in the air. The forest was eerily silent as he began to hear the cracking of leaves, the telltale sign of a sole creature walking the woods.

It was moving quickly. It was getting closer. Rane backed further into the hollow, pressed against the hard roots of the tree and the soft earth. He could see out the hole as well. He only hoped that it was not as easy to see into it.

A shadow fell over the hole, and Rane’s fears were confirmed. An axtl with dark fur, matted by dirt and blood stood at the top of the hill. In its hand was a large, curved blade. It was sleek, shining with a dark substance that stained its edge. Atop its head was a fenull skull, cracked and pressed into its brow.

It was one of the honor guards of the chieftain. Rane’s heart began to speed up even as he tried to control his breathing. The beast would surely see him. It stepped closer and closer still, until it was nearly on top of the tree.

Rane could smell it. The blood and flesh on its fur created an odor like that of a walking corpse. And as it raised its nose, Rane noticed that the helmet was not just pressed into its brow. The splintered bone had pierced the creature's eyes. The blood that ran down the mask was congealed, resembling tears of crimson red on its pale surface.

It was a harrowing image, nearly making him gasp in terror. He barely held onto his sanity with the realization that the creature was blinded. He thought for the briefest moment that he could stand and fight, but squashed that arrogant hope. I am nothing, I am no one, and most of all, I am weak. He dared not move the smallest amount of ambient. Then he noticed another detail.

Attached to its belt was a row of patches. They were the patches that signified one as a tally. Five. This beast had killed five tallies in this state. Rane again cursed his stupidity and weakness. This time, he praised his cowardice. This creature was a soldier, like himself. No, not like himself. It was better. And he could only hide like a mouse, and hope the cat moves on.

After a brief moment, Rane felt a pulse of ambient wash over him. It was incredibly strange, as he was not circulating any ambient within himself, so it also passed directly through him. He squirmed in discomfort, but remained silent.

The beast turned its head and moved on, its quick steps growing more and more quiet until Rane could no longer hear them. He was wheezing from his thirst at this point, but did not dare move for another half an hour.

Eventually, thirst was the thing that overcame his fear. He needed water, and he was on a time limit. He knew from his training that a classient could survive several weeks to a month with minimal nutrition, but the same was not true for lack of water. Without water, he would be a corpse in merely a few days.

He followed the hill down, taking great care that he moved in the opposite direction of the axtl honor guard. He was not completely lost, as he still knew the general direction of The Empire, but between here and there was a monster so powerful that the commanders had not stopped it. Traveling back through its territory would be little different that suicide.

Now, he knew that wasn’t all. At least one of the honor guards had survived, and was actively hunting the remnants of their army.

West was his only direction that led away from those dangers.

And so he walked westward and down, hoping he could chance upon some minor waterway flowing down from the great mountains to the north.

As he walked, the sunlight began to wane, and the chatter of insects grew louder and louder. He could hear the beating of wings above him as small shapes darted around in the canopy of the trees.

He continued to walk until night fell, but the moon shined so brightly that he could still see, if only well enough to avoid trees. He still stumbled on their roots, but his task remained the same. He feared that if he gave up now and slept, he would be in an even worse state than now, so, despite his exhaustion, mental and physical, he pressed onward.

He heard it before he saw it. The trickle of water over rock. He closed his eyes and listened for a bit before nearly breaking into a hasty shuffle in the direction of the water source.

It was beautiful. The moonlight refracted off shining rocks, and the water flowed over a small edge, separating into small droplets that flickered in the lunar glow before splashing into the small pool below, from where it continued to overflow and drain down the slope.

Rane fell to his knees on the edge of the pool, and scooped water up with his hands. He wanted to submerge his head within the pool, but it was likely too shallow, and he didn’t want to taint the little water that he had. Additionally, he feared that he may simply fall forward into the pool if he allowed himself to relax in such a manner.

He drank deeply and greedily before pushing himself away from the pool and falling to his side. Despite the pain from his empty stomach, Rane found sleep quickly.