The desert jackals rushed the caravan, eating up the distance at a frightening pace.

The number of normal ones was easily around a dozen or so. More than enough to overrun the defenders. The larger ones could likewise do the same on their own should they be nearly as strong as they looked.

Therefore, the priority was to stop them in their tracks.

The ranger loosed the crystal-headed arrow towards the onrushing pack. It hit the ground a modest distance ahead of the canines, shattering from the force of the impact where a normal arrowhead would bury itself in deeply. Then the air softly wavered as some kind of gas spread out, freed from the confinement of the crystal.

“Now!” she signaled.

Foreign words, indecipherable to the monk, flowed from the dwarven spellcaster. Then he thrust his cupped hands forward and the result was a flaming bolt. The embers had coalesced and lanced out towards where the arrow had shattered—

BOOM!

—then flames bloomed in the night as the air caught fire and expanded outwards. Whatever gas escaped the crystal was flammable, and so the explosion that followed swept up the pack by a good deal. The flames weren’t enough to outright incinerate any of them, but the flames latched onto their dry fur and so their charge was turned into a scramble as many fell and began rolling frantically to quench the flames.

The primary exceptions were the two abnormal ones that barreled through the flames and smoke with relentless vigor.

He began molding embers between his hands again. “Kit—”

“I know!” She withdrew two arrows from her smaller quiver. This time the heads of the arrows were crystals that were a mixture of brown and green. Moreover, the monk could feel the magic wafting from the pair as she nocked and shot them towards the monstrous jackals one after another.

The arrows slammed into them and the crystals shattered once more. Only, instead of gas, brambles sprung out like a seed being forced to sprout and then bloom at an explosive rate. The gait of the two was halted as they tripped over themselves when the sinuous vines entangled their limbs and the thorns pierced their bodies.

“That’ll buy us some time!” she called out to the rest of the defenders as she drew a normal arrow from the quiver on her back. “Kill the smaller ones first so the carts can get to the oasis!”

One of the men, wearing leather armor and wielding a long sword in his hand, rushed forward instead after stabbing down into one of the jackals. “If we kill the big ones the pack’ll scatter!”

“He’s right,” one of the burlier men said, a kite shield in one hand and a battle-axe in the other. “If we don’t kill them now, they can always attack once we leave the oasis!”

As the two men ran forward, the monk silently mused both were valid strategies as far as he could tell. Burning down the biggest threats in a single rush would keep the damage to a minimal in the long run if the pack only gained the bravery to attack because of these two. But leaving the pack alone while attempting to kill them would leave the jackals free to kill the camels, attack the clients, or gang up on the defenders.

That in mind, the monk decided to abstain from attacking the larger predators to focus on the pack as the snarls of one of the jackals that finished snuffing out its charred hide drew his attention.

The feral-looking canine was rushing for one of the camels, its cart-driver frantically attempting to keep it from panicking. The camels were largely domesticated and lacked the instinct honed in the wild to fend off such predators. Not that it would be advantageous in comparison to the jackal, which had to hunt to survive and found itself in the face of prey.

He ran in with the quarterstaff and thrust it, one hand acting as the guide and the other providing the speed. The blunt point of the staff met with the canine’s body, slamming into a point just behind its left foreleg and shoving it away from the camel. Then he took a stance in front of it and readied himself as the beast’s gaze fell onto him.

The snarl that was birthed from its throat carried its intention—blood for pain. It attempted to circle and flank him with feints as it moved back and forward, instinctively looking for an opening to exploit through the confusing motions. Then it lunged for his throat.

He shifted his stance by pivoting on his rear leg, while the staff used the momentum to strike it down. The harsh yelp born from the blunt blow striking the fur and muscle was drowned out by a sudden silence as his leg came upwards and its exposed throat was caught by his shin. Throat crushed; it fell to the ground dying.

“Grrr!”

Then training kicked in the moment the snarl and claws rushing the dry ground met his ears. He brought the staff around in a twirl as he twisted his body in a practiced motion. A general defensive maneuver meant to deflect, it proved to be the correct call as the lunging bite that had been meant to knock him prone was parried. His legs still buckled as the weight of the animal caught his shoulder upon passing, but he swiftly righted himself—

Woosh.

—when the sound of air parting near his ear was followed by the wooden shaft of an arrow abruptly burying itself into the jackal that had failed to ambush him. The metal tip pierced somewhere between its midsection, causing the jackal to yelp and provided an opening for him to bring down the staff upon its the skull. The wood buckled in his grasp and there was a wet, muted crack beneath the thin fur as the beast’s tongue lolled from its mouth and it collapsed.

The monk’s head then whipped around towards where the arrow came from. Swiftly drawing from her rear quiver and nocking another arrow, the ranger’s eyes flickered back and forth while her feline ears did the same. An instant later she turned her head to the right and loosed it just as the screaming started.

One of the cart-drivers was being mauled by a pair jackals some distance away, likely in the process of fleeing for the oasis while the rest were fending off the attack. Chased prey made for easy sport as the canines that hunted in pairs got the jump on him, knocking him prone. Now one was burying their fangs into his leg to tear away any chance of running and the other went for the back of his neck to end his life.

The fired arrow buried itself into the side of the one that was attempting to rip through his arteries with its teeth, forcing its bloodied maw open as its head jerked back to yowl in pain. The next moment there was a flash of steel as a rougher-looking man with a scimitar swooped in and chopped into its backside. He then attempted to do the same to the one who’d tore out the ankle, but it jumped back to avoid the steel and snarled.

Foreign words.

That was when a fire sparked from beneath it and turned into a roaring bonfire that reached five feet tall before it could get out of the way. The jackal’s silhouette writhed violently; its cries swallowed by the hungry flames that seemed intent on devouring everything within it. Then the flames abruptly winked out of existence and left behind only scorched earth and a smoldering corpse.

As the mercenary delivered a finishing slash on the wounded one before grabbing the cart-driver, the monk noticed that the rest had culled the numbers of the pack by about half at this point. The remainder were being fended off from advancing on the caravan but refused to retreat. Strange—a normal pack would have retreated long before they had lost these numbers while hunting prey.

“They’re breaking free!”

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The shout that went out immediately drew all attention to the two abnormals that had been leading the pack. The beasts were using their fangs to grab and pull them away despite the evident pain. The brambles that had been constricting them, tearing into their flesh as streamlets of blood ran down their coarse-looking fur, were in the process of being ripped apart.

“Nothing’s working!” said the axe-wielding warrior as he attempted to decapitate the creature. But that rough-looking fur may as well have been armor because it didn’t manage to get more than skin-deep.

“AGGHHHH!” The moment the monstrous beast managed to free its claw, it tore through the swordsman’s leather armor like it was paper in a single stroke, blood painting the jagged-looking nails and dry ground. It then raked the other way, this time catching most of his body and throwing it to the side where it laid like a broken doll while the monstrous jackal finished tearing itself free.

Then it rushed right for the caravan.

“Call out the big spells already!” shouted the ranger as she nocked and fired one arrow after another towards it. They all bounced off its hide uselessly.

In response, the dwarven spellcaster tossed up the tome and the dulled gem burned with a flame on the inside as it floated upright. The darkened fissures turned into molten veins that pumped throughout the entire tome as he uttered the foreign phrase frantically. Then the cover of the tome flipped open and three blazing lances of flame lit up the sky as they shot towards the massive jackal.

However, the creature proved deft. It darted to the right and left without slowing its gait, the first and second rays smashing into the ground and sending spouts of burning dirt skyward. The third ray meanwhile fell short of a direct hit, even as it caught the ground right in front of it and briefly embraced the massive canine within a veil of blackened soil and smoke.

Yet from that dirty veil emerged the creature as smoke wafted off its fur that had burned patches and strands that were still glowing orange. Still moving forward at a breakneck pace as the caster gathered his breath from the higher-tier of spellcasting, its inhuman eyes were fixed onto him. Then it lunged with its claws forward and maw opened, intent on tearing him apart with everything it had before he could pose any further threat.

The ranger rushed in from the side and rammed into the dwarven spellcaster before the furry missile slammed into him. The sound of splintering wood and ripping canvas joined the cry of the panicked camel as an entire cart was destroyed from the sheer force of the impact. And from the wreckage the monster rolled outwards, getting its claws under it and turning to face the spellcaster with a small flame already dancing in his hand…

Then the monstrous eyes seemingly glowed a hue of yellow.

“Uhhh…” The flame within his grasp flickered out, the dwarf wavering on his feet for a moment as if drunk. Then he fell unconscious onto the ground and the creature moved in for kill even as the ranger stood ready to defend him.

“RAGH!!”

Beige cloth fluttered in the wind as, with a battle-cry, the mercenary rushed in from the side and slammed his shield into the monster’s face. The jagged claws that had reaped life once before came around to take off his torso almost reflexively, but he angled the round shield to deflect the claws upwards even as they gouged rents in the steel. And when the second swipe came, he bound backward into a defensive stance in front of the ranger and sleeping spellcaster.

“Wake him up now!” ordered the mercenary. “Magic is the only thing doing a damn against these behemoths!”

“AGH!!” No sooner than that declaration was made did a scream come from where the other monster was. The axe-user had been battered aside, his shield clanking to the ground as the second massive jackal broke free of its bonds. It began rushing towards the only person among the defenders who could actually do something against it while they were unconscious…

No. Feeling the land’s energy beneath his feet, the monk knew what he had to do if he wanted to live.

Inhaling a deep breath, he slammed the butt of the quarterstaff into the ground and uttered the words he’d been taught by the elven druid. The druidic inscription on the quarterstaff she’d gifted him shone with viridian light in response and power surged into it. Bark that was dark and heavy and rich in hue spread from the inscription and covered the naked wood as he recalled what she had told him long ago.

Nature is replete with power we can tap into. We can do so as readily as breathing for some spells because we are a part of nature itself. But for others we need a means to focus that power...

The quarterstaff she’d gifted him for his coming of age before he’d departed was one such object. It was a compromise that she had been willing to make so that he could keep to his grounding in both teachings. Magically-charged weapon in hand, he threw himself into a mad sprint to intercept the second monstrous jackal before it could kill the ranger attempting to rouse the spellcaster.

There wasn’t enough time to stop. Not enough time to interpose himself between it and them. So, he drove the staff down and let the momentum carry him forward as he launched into a flying kick that slammed him into the creature midstride and sent them both careening off to the side. The monk tucked into a roll, got back onto his feet as the creature did so, and swung the staff as hard as he could with both hands.

“HRK!?”

A pained yelp that left the canine’s mouth as its head whipped around from the force of the impact. The creature’s armor-like fur was indented where he’d struck, the faint glow of viridian from the magic within the staff leaving an impact. He could hurt it.

In response, the massive jackal’s claws came around to reap his head from his shoulders. He intercepted them with the staff both times, twisting his hips and feeling the claws shaking the wood in his grasp. Had he not infused the staff with nature’s power it would have likely snapped under the weight of the blows.

But because it held, he managed to throw aside the blows before following with another two swings, both slamming into its head. The monstrous jackal staggered on its feet. Then its eyes fixed onto his and they grew luminous…

“Ugh…!” It felt like a sudden wave of drowsiness overcame him. Lethargy pulsed through his body and robbed him of strength. He wavered on his own feet and the staff fell from his grasp, the magic infusing it seeping back into the ground from whence it came. But before he could succumb, he bit down on his lower lip and let the pain act as an anchor he could focus on to force himself to stay away.

That was the only reason he was still alive as the massive jackal lunged with its fangs exposed to bite down on him. There was no time to get out of the way or retreat. All he could do was put his left arm up to intercept the deadly trap of fangs going for his head and scream as it snapped shut. “AHHHH!!”

The monstrous jackal forced him onto the ground as its jaw strength managed to break the bone in his arm the moment it snapped shut. He could feel the fangs piercing his muscle, its tightening grip tearing at them while the rage in its eyes was palpable. The moment he realized what was going to happen, he wrapped his other arm around its neck and clung to it with his legs before it started thrashing around.

What followed was a blur of pain and motion. The jackal attempted to throw him about, jerking its head and widening the gash it made on his arm. Its claws scraped against his backside while trying to get free, leaving trails of hot pain along his back. It even slammed his body against the ground so it could get a better angle to tear out his throat.

Everything went white the moment his head slammed into the ground. A ringing sound drowned out all noise and pain swallowed every thought he had. There, lying in the space between the unconscious mind and trained calm, primal instinct surfaced.

DEATH.

That instinct that every creature had that foretold them of danger and death was like blood on a black canvas. The stain wrote out his fate if he didn’t do something. The monstrous creature would tear out his throat and rip his innards out if he didn’t do something.

Just like with the bear.

The fear of death filled him. Filled him so deeply that he was willing to do whatever it took to survive. He threw away the restraint he had and called out to whatever would listen with the instinctive drive to keep living—to fight back.

Nature responded.

The same force that had infused his staff answered his call as if it were a lunging serpent. It rushed into his body and gathered into the primal weapons that existed before man had found martial prowess through discipline. He felt his good arm move—

“HRRRKKK!!?”

—and the pained yelp that came out of the throat of the monstrous jackal was followed by the pressure on his arm lessening as the creature frantically backed away.

The monk rose up onto his knees. A haggard half-screech left his throat as his tongue ran over the point of sharpened fangs. His left arm was nothing but pain and searing heat, but his right hand…

The fingers had become bestial. Muscle had been made firmer and thickened to the point it felt like his flesh was straining to hold it in. And his nails had lengthened to match, coming to an end at wicked points from which prickled a sizzling, frothing fluid that ate away at the blood and fur and flesh caught beneath it.

Just like before.

Before he could dwell on it, the flare of flames lit up his backside and a second yelp followed. Then a clay flask shattered against it and lantern oil splashed over its fur that had been painted red. It turned the other way and ran as a bolt of fire went sailing in its direction, only narrowly missing as the oversized jackal put more distance between them.

Once it fled, the monk felt his fangs and claws shift back into teeth and nails. Then the world turned liquid and he toppled over into a puddle of wet and copper smelling crimson. The wounds had been deeper than he thought, it seemed.

As his heartbeat slowed and voices grew distant, he choked down the self-loathing that he felt as he spread his fingers like the roots of a tree. Another deep breath followed before he reached out a final time for that which laid beneath him. For a final time that wellspring of power that laid beneath the ground responded as it flowed into him.

He felt a soothing sensation take away the worst of the pain.

Then unconsciousness took him.