The smoke from the destroyed ships was visible even from afar. With the scant equipment they had managed to salvage while fleeing into the forest, the survivors constructed a makeshift camp. The wounded lay still, groaning in agony, their skin covered in blisters, red and bloody. They shivered in pain, and the legion’s medicae did what they could, using nearby herbs to alleviate their suffering. Claudia stood with her comrades, keeping vigilant watch. Some held gladii, while others only had scuta. Elsewhere in the camp, some women were fashioning hastas out of sticks and sharp stones. Though they felt humiliated by creating such barbaric weapons, their will to survive outweighed their pride.

Not far from the camp, the centurion stood over two of the surviving black-clad, masked individuals who had accompanied them. They were bound with vines, naked and wounded all over their bodies. After the surviving women had reached the forest, she had ordered their capture. Her anger was palpable; she had lost her ships and many of her legionaries, while these figures cared only about finding their missing vessel. Furious, she had ordered their torture to extract any information they might have.

“We have stabbed you, cut you, even removed a nipple, and yet you still refuse to talk. You must be very loyal to your patron, or very foolish to think you will emerge from this unscathed,” said the centurion, cleaning her bloody hands with rags taken from their clothes.

One of the masked individuals, through her pain, spoke. “We swear, we didn't think this would happen. We’re innocent, we swear by Materna. Please just let us go. You will never see us again,” she pleaded, tears raining down her face, past her bloody lips.

“Nay, our fallen sisters cry for blood, your blood. If we get back to our homeland, we will report this to Caesar. Whoever your patron is will pay dearly. Since you speak nothing but lies, you will be left here to die, either by disease, starvation, or any hostile wildlife that exists,” the centurion spoke, while some legionaries brought a makeshift cross and nails to crucify them. They cried in anger and sadness and yelled, but she ignored them. They would pay; her women would have their vengeance.

While that happened, Claudia was nervous and angry. Her first mission, and it was going badly—too many dead. She could still hear their cries, see their limbs floating in the water, those who drowned. How those they fished out had their skin melted, blood, bone, and muscle exposed. Luckily, her friends, Celestia, Silvia, and Sabrina, survived. Sabrina was traumatized, while Celestia looked stoic as ever.

They volunteered to be lookouts, deep in the forest where the sounds of animals could be heard. The stress and tall grass made it hard to see. They were positioned so that nobody could attack them unawares. In the distance, the foul beasts ridden by those who attacked them could be heard. They were not prepared to fight them. Only a small number of them were armed; the archers only had some arrows that managed to stay in their quivers, and the ones they had made were not of good enough quality to fly far.

The camp was not looking good. The makeshift roof was made of leaves and sticks, and their wall was just some sticks laid out to make a sound if someone stepped on them. The medicae tried everything, even praying to their gods, but their words were not heard. Already, there were some graves being made. The women who died were naked, as they needed any equipment they could use.

“Claudia, are you well?” she heard Sabrina speak, her voice lacking the enthusiasm of the beginning.

Looking at her, Claudia tried to smile. “No, I didn’t imagine this would happen. Worse, the centurion hasn’t spoken. What are we going to do now? We need to move or send someone to see if any equipment or rations survived, washed ashore,” she said, a little desperate.

“I don’t know. Fire consumes everything, and a fire like that should have burned everything. Besides, it’s not safe. With those riders out there looking for us, I fear what they are going to do to us,” said Sabrina, a little scared.

Claudia put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be scared. We survived, and we are together. You will see that we will make it. Besides, if those who attacked us were people, there must be a civilization, a more or less hostile one. Those could have been bandits for all we know.”

“You may be right, but if their bandits are armed like that, I don’t want to imagine how their militias or proper armies are,” she said.

That question left Claudia with doubt, but the voice of the centurion finally spoke.

“My legionaries, we have been fooled. Those allies of ours betrayed us. Now we lie like wounded animals, licking our wounds. I say nay, we must survive and get out of these unclaimed lands and go back. But first, I need more equipment, more rations. For that, I need volunteers to go back to the beach and bring anything they can find. Then we march north, to civilization or better grounds to fortify. I ask, who will volunteer?” she spoke.

Nobody answered, but knowing what was at stake, Claudia spoke up. “I, Claudia, volunteer myself to look for supplies.” Sabrina looked at her surprised, but soon she also spoke. “I too will volunteer.” Silvia and Celestia also followed. Other women followed. Soon there were ten of them. They gave them the best of the equipment and some makeshift backpacks made from twigs.

The survivors began their march back to the shore, moving quietly with their mission in mind. They passed through trees and ruins of buildings overtaken by nature. As they neared the beach, they lay prone, hiding in the bushes. The flames still licked at the remnants of their ships, but more importantly, supplies floated ashore—spears, shields, and wooden boxes full of rations, medical supplies, and tools. They scanned the area for enemies but found none. Puzzlingly, there were no bodies of their fallen comrades either.

Cautiously, they moved to the beach and quickly began filling their makeshift backpacks with rations, medical supplies, and tools. One of them discovered some swords and tied them together with a rope, prompting the others to follow her lead. They worked diligently, sweat pouring down their faces, until Claudia stood up to stretch. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. She swiftly turned her head, but saw nothing. Feeling uneasy, she hurriedly stuffed the last of the supplies into her backpack.

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The other women were also finishing when a chilling howl pierced the air. Celestia drew her sword, and Silvia followed suit. Those with shields formed a small defensive wall. From the forest, bare-chested men charged at them, their skin smeared with blood, mud, and various substances. Ears hung from their necks, teeth dangled as earrings, and skulls and half-rotten heads adorned their waists. In their hands, they wielded crude bone weapons. The women, though terrified by the sight, held their ground. Behind these men, more civilized figures emerged—dressed in red shirts and brown pants, their faces obscured by cloth that concealed their mouths, and strange weapons strapped to their arms.

One of the attackers lunged forward recklessly. Celestia blocked his strike, kicked him in the chest, and drove her sword into his face, killing him. Silvia severed another’s leg and thrust her sword into his neck. Those with shields knocked down attackers and smashed their limbs or necks, breaking them. The bodies piled up around them. Celestia blocked another attack, then swiftly pushed forward, punched her opponent in the face, and drove her sword through the back of his head, the blade emerging through his eye.

“We must go back!” she yelled, blocking yet another strike. This opponent wore makeshift armor made of bones, with jaws hanging around his form, offering him some crude protection.

The women began to retreat slowly into the forest, but the men in the back aimed their mysterious weapons and fired. Bullets whizzed around them, striking even their supposed allies, tearing chunks out of them.

“Forget it, just run!” one of the women shouted, only to be cut down by a bullet to the face, her jaw shattered and her life extinguished in an instant. Panic ensued as they fled. The civilized men, quickly closing in, whistled commands to the bare-chested men, directing them like animals in pursuit of their prey.

Bullets rained down upon them, sending dirt and splinters flying in all directions. The bare-chested men howled like wolves, their feral cries echoing through the forest. The group of women was down to nine. They jumped, swung, and dodged their pursuers, ignoring the cuts and bruises that marred their forms.

“Hoje jantamos como deuses!” one of the men shouted, but the women did not understand his foreign tongue.

One of the women tripped, her supplies scattering through the air. She scrambled to retrieve them, but Celestia, without hesitation, grabbed her and continued running, treating her like a sack of grain.

“Forget the supplies! Our lives are more important!” Celestia yelled over the din.

A bullet struck one of the women in the leg, leaving it barely attached by a thread of muscle. She screamed in agony. Another woman stopped to help, but her head was blown off before she could assist. Silvia, quick to act, slashed the injured woman's neck, preferring to end her suffering rather than let her fall into the enemy’s hands.

Claudia, growing increasingly anxious as their numbers dwindled and supplies were squandered, realized she needed to act decisively. Without thinking, she grabbed a stick and began to shout and howl, trying to attract the attention of their pursuers. Then, recalling the gruesome decorations on the attackers, she sliced her forearm, letting her blood flow freely.

“Quickly, I’ll distract them. Go back to the camp and help the others!” Claudia shouted, her voice strained but resolute.

“No, we can make it! We have the numbers!” Sabrina protested, tears streaming down her face as she grabbed Claudia’s arm.

“No, they’re not men; they’re beasts, and beasts follow blood. Don’t worry, I can outrun them,” Claudia lied, her voice firm despite her growing fear.

Celestia, her face etched with sadness but understanding the necessity of the plan, spoke with a heavy heart. “Sabrina, let’s go. This one,” she gestured to the wounded woman, “needs medical attention. If they follow us, our numbers won’t help us. They are better armed.”

Sabrina nodded, tears still in her eyes, and quickly rejoined the group. Claudia managed a small, grim smile and began to move in a different direction. She could hear the pursuit begin, the sound of the men closing in.

Even as Claudia faced her end, she found solace in knowing that her sacrifice would save countless lives. Her act of bravery would serve as a warning about the men—no, the beasts—in human guise. As she ran, her focus solely on drawing the pursuers away, she failed to notice a hidden rope. When her foot landed on it, the trap sprang, ensnaring her with sharp, bloodthirsty barbs that dug into her leg.

She struggled to free herself, but the more she moved, the tighter the rope constricted, slicing into her flesh and drawing blood. The pain was excruciating, and the vines seemed to consume her slowly, tearing at her muscles and drinking her blood.

The pursuing men arrived and halted before her, their barbaric appearance reminiscent of the primitive savages Claudia had seen in her homeland. The more civilized figures, trailing behind, observed with contempt.

“Merda, ela caiu em uma armadilha de cipó!” one of the men cursed in his language. “Essas porcarias estão sempre em grupo. Mesmo se pegarmos ela, perderemos muitos homens e as outras vadias escaparam. Além disso, o chefe mandou não entrar nesta parte da floresta.”

As one of the bare-chested men attempted to approach Claudia, he too was ensnared by the hidden vines. The ground erupted with blood as he was dragged screaming into the earth, his cries echoing through the forest.

“Porra, vamos recuar. O chefe vai ficar furioso; perdemos um parapente para essas malditas,” another man said, frustration evident in his voice. The men turned and began their retreat, signaled by a sharp whistle. The bare-chested savages followed them, retreating with their comrades.

There Claudia hung, her leg now more vein than skin, the pain excruciating as her head pounded. She had lost track of time; her skin had turned a deathly pale, and her breathing was shallow. Her end was imminent, but she accepted it with a resigned calm. She had given her all to help her friends, her sisters in blood. What more could she ask for? Slowly, darkness crept into her vision, consuming her sight.

Then, a voice spoke with divine authority, piercing through the fog of her fading consciousness. “Claudia, it is not yet your time. By my will, may you live and fulfill your destiny,” Materna’s voice resounded with celestial power. Soon footsteps approached, their sound growing clearer.

“Mira, te lo juro, escuche un grito por aquí, vamos a verificar,” a male voice said, but Claudia, too weak to respond, could barely make out the words.

“No me importa, estamos muy lejos del puesto de mando. Pueden haber caníbales cerca,” another voice replied.

“Mira, ¡Dios mío, mira una sobreviviente!” one of them shouted in astonishment.

“¡Rápido, ayúdala!” urged the other.

Suddenly, Claudia felt a jolt as her body was freed from the snare. She tried to open her eyes but was too weak. The voices continued around her, filled with urgency and concern.

“Mierda, ha perdido demasiada sangre, hay que llevarla con nosotros,” explained one of the figures.

“Está bien, pero tú le hablarás a la comandante Florence, no estará féliz” said the other. Soon, Claudia felt herself being lifted, her body carried by the unknown figures. Exhaustion overcame her, and she slipped into unconsciousness, leaving her fate in the hands of these unexpected saviors.