Ignivora let out a few yips, signaling for Harlan to follow him, before heading out of the dead-end camp.
“Uhh, I guess you stay here, Frank. You too, Pudding,” said Harlan before following. As he headed out, he looked back and, for the first time, noticed that the magnetic rings he could see were distorted in and around the massive tree at the center of the dead-end. He resolved to ask about that when they got back, but for now, he had to speed-hobble to catch up with Iggy.
The fox led the sheriff through a maze of twists and turns—some through the shallow canyon, some through the brush, and some down by the river—until they came to a small, stony beach that led up to the base of a towering sandstone cliff face. Ignivora walked up to the cliff, then headed slightly left behind some large rocks, where he froze, staring into the mouth of a cave. The fur along his back stood on end, and the flames that came from it burned with blues and greens as the phoenix fox felt a mixture of sadness, anger, and regret.
Harlan wasn’t sure how, but he could feel the emotions the fox was experiencing. He knew Ignivora was replaying the memory of what had happened, thinking of what he could have done differently, and trying to figure out how he could have saved the mother of his child.
Harlan put a hand on the fox, sure that the fire wouldn’t harm him. “I know the words sound empty, but you can’t blame yourself. That’s a dark path to self-destruction, and you’ll be no use to Cindy or your lady if you self-destruct. Next actionable step. That’s how I got through it. What’s the next thing I can realistically do to move forward? Sometimes, all you can do is grieve. But that’s not this time. This time, we are going to find her.” Harlan took a breath, set his jaw, and squared his shoulders. “It’s okay if you want to stay out here. I’ll go in and get a read on what happened. I’ll find us some clues to go on. We will find her”
From the entrance, the cave looked pitch black. But as Harlan stepped inside, he quickly realized that the [sense of the fox] also included low-light vision, as he could see perfectly fine despite the absence of light. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It certainly had the deep musk of a fox’s den, but something else was mingled with it, without enhanced senses, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Even with his heightened sense of smell, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Hints of floral and citrus scents told him that it was out of place here. It was like a memory was scratching at his brain of where he'd come across it before, but the smell had faded too much. The harder he tried to focus on it, the more distant the memory seemed.
Frustrated, he decided to focus on something else, hoping the memory would come to him if he acted like he didn’t care. Several things stood out to him as he looked around the cave. A pile of straw, sticks, and other plant matter had been made into a bed, presumably for Cindy. He also noticed what looked like a net on the ground. As he got closer, it became apparent that the net was made of metal and had been melted through. Attempting to pick it up, it was obvious that the weight would require at least two men to lift it.
Standing back up, he spotted another metallic object—this one cylindrical and about the size of a whiskey bottle, with holes dotting one segment that looked like it would retract into the rest of the cylinder. As he approached, he started to pick up another smell, this one instantly recognizable as the sweet and mildly pungent scent of chloroform. Not wanting any more exposure to the fumes than he already had, he decided to leave the object where it was.
Walking back to the small bed, he took note of the dried blood on the ground, presumably from childbirth. He was starting to form a picture in his mind of what had happened when he heard a very quiet “drip” and snapped his attention in the direction it came from. On the ground, he could see the inky blackness of fresh blood pooling in the darkness. This set off alarm bells in his head.
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He immediately looked up to see the shape of a human body wrapped in spiderweb, with blood oozing out of twin puncture wounds. Harlan began to slowly back out of the cave but froze when he heard skittering on the roof behind him. He reached for his gun, drew it, and spun around, pointing it in the direction of the noise. Although he saw nothing, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
As he spun again, he found himself face to face with the largest spider-turtle he had ever seen. All eight eyes were locked onto him. The leathery skin of its head shifted and creased as its mouth peeled back and two six-inch-long fangs unfolded, dripping with paralyzing venom.
Harlan fired from the hip, hoping to strike something vital. All he managed was to hit the shell-covered underside of the monster, which lashed out with one of its flipper-like forelimbs, slapping the gun out of Harlan’s hand and causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Before he could react, the spider-turtle had him pinned.
Unable to move, Harlan lay there, trying to turn his head away as the beast inched closer, preparing to inject its venom. As the reptilian head came within nine inches of his face, Harlan snapped his head forward and called out, “Breath of Fire!” before blowing an intense jet of flame into the spider-turtle’s eyes.
The monster stumbled back, shrieking and grabbing at its face with its flippers.
“Glad I remembered I could do that,” said Harlan, breathing heavily as he clambered to his feet and hobbled to pick up his gun. He tried to level the barrel at the spider-turtle’s head, but its flailing made it difficult to get a clear shot. Before he could squeeze the trigger, he was knocked over by a tremendous burst of fire plowing through the spider-turtle, somehow cleaving its double-sided shell in half. As the now-separate front and rear halves of the monster collapsed to the ground, Harlan saw Ignivora standing there, still wreathed in flames, burning away the remains of the spider-turtle’s innards that had covered him as he smashed through it.
Ding! “Ignivora has killed [Spider-Turtle Broodmother]. You have gained experience.”
Ding! “You have reached level 6! [Breath of Fire] has leveled up.”
“Ya couldn't have done that sooner?!" exclaimed Harlan to Ignivora as he propped himself up on his elbows "also, you stole mah kill”
Iggy gave him a look that roughly translated to “You’re welcome.”
Harlan got to his feet and brushed himself off, wincing at the scrapes and bruises he had picked up. “Damn, I hate spider-turtles,” he said while twisting and flexing to check for any more serious injuries. “Hmm, just the old injuries I think" he said trying to convince himself "Anyway, I reckon I have a pretty good idea of what happened here. I’d say at least a team of six guys was involved. Looks like they waited for your lady to give birth, knowing that was when she’d be weakest and you’d be distracted. They launched some chloroform in here to knock you all out, then tied you up in that chain-link net to give themselves time to get away with your girl. That sound about right?”
The fox gave a dejected nod.
“At least it looks like one of you got one of them, and that’s what our friendly neighborhood spider-turtle has been munching on. Poor bastard is probably full of eggs. I don't want to be here when eat their way out after they hatch. Reckon you could get him down from there? We might be able to get more information from the body.”
Ignivora looked up at the massive web holding the encased man and blew a long lance of fire from his mouth, shearing through the silk. The body hit the ground with a meaty thud and let out a weak groan.
“Well, damn, looks like the poor bastard is still alive.” Pulling out his knife, Harlan got to work cutting away the spiderweb around the man’s head. His skin was pallid and cold, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, and his lips dry, cracked, and smeared with blood. “Rough few days for you there, buddy?” asked Harlan not expecting a reply.
“H-h-help…help…help me,” said the man through shallow, rapid breaths.