“Try stomping.”

Taradira came to a halt in the middle of her pacing, turning to look at her companions, her eyes locking on to a slender Hatharen leaning against one of the large rocks surrounding their campsite. “What?”

“Stomping.” Filarane repeated. “Put your weight into your steps and grind some of these rocks down to dust. Will make the ground nicer when we sleep.”

Another Hatharen, sitting on the rocky ground, laughed lightly. “Don’t be mean. Tara didn’t ask to be as tall as she is.” Filarane rolled her eyes at Satherevas, the speaker.

Taradira returned to pacing, ignoring the banter. “This is the first time something like this has been seen, as far as we know. How can you relax?”

“So after several thousand years we finally see signs of leadership in the monsters. Yeah it’s worrying but what are we going to do? We still have to kill them. They just might fight back a bit better.” A third voice spoke up. Alarethas, the second-largest of the group, after Taradira herself, stood stiffly, watching Taradira walk back and forth across the camp. “We just wait until Ceravas gets back and tells us more.”

The fifth member of the group sat up from where he had been laying on the ground. “How long will we last if they get smarter, Alarethas? They are already wearing us down, slowly, century after century. If they organize and fight better, and we suffer more losses, how long until we end up endangered?”

“Vare, I have confidence, not arrogance. We can overcome whatever they do. That’s why we are here getting information.”

“Ceravas is getting information. Alone. She shouldn’t be out there alone.”

At those words, Alarethas’ expression broke. His dark skin wrinkled as he glared at Vare. “Do you not trust her?”

Taradira came to a half, turning towards the two of them. “Stop.” She spoke sharply, and all four of them turned to look at her. “Alarethas, Vare is not doubting Cera’s skills. Vare, I made the decision to send her out alone, and you agreed with me at the time that letting her work alone means she is less likely to be discovered. Remember that.”

The two men let out their breaths and returned to their former positions, Vare lying on the ground and Alarethas standing like a statue.

Taradira took a moment to smile. Hatharen squads, usually, did not have designated leaders. Her group was different. They trusted her to lead them, and she trusted them to follow. Her methods kept them alive. After she first saw a family member die, all those years ago, she made it her goal to prevent that from ever happening again. Nearly four hundred years later, all six of them lived. They worked and interacted differently, when compared with other families. Vare wasn’t family, but part of the team. They weren’t a family any more, but a fighting force.

A pebble fell into the middle of their campsite, bouncing down from the cliffs above. Taradira looked upwards, trying to find the source, feeling Filrane, Satherevas, and Vare move to their feet, also looking upwards.

“I didn’t fool you, Alaret.” The soft voice came from the middle of the camp. Taradira turned to see the final member of her team standing next to Alarethas, the two smiling at each other.

“What’s the news, Cera?” Taradira instantly asked.

“That new thing, there’s only the one, but more and more are joining its army. Doesn’t look good.”

Frowning, she started pacing again. The rest of them stayed silent, watching her. Suddenly, more pebbles fell from above, rattling down the sloped cliff into their camp. Six Hatharen all came to a stop and looked upwards.

“Cera, were you followed?”

“No.” She replied. “I’m sure they didn’t spot me, and that’s the wrong direction anyway.”

A short but powerful silence followed her statement. Taradira pulled her axe-sword off her belt. “They already knew we were here. They were waiting for you to get back. We’ve been watched this whole time.”

All of them broke into action, drawing weapons and stepping away from the cliff, out of the large rocks that surrounded the rest of the camp site. Looking up at the cliff they could see dark shapes at the top, staring back down at the group. Unmistakably a group of Vilret, the broad-bodied, short beasts. Taradira swallowed, feeling the worry start to take over. Vilret never traveled alone.

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“Alarethas, with me. Cera, look out for more of them. Fila, Vare, wait for Cera’s signal before attacking. Satherevas, get ready to make an escape path.”

A series of quick, short replies came, and Alarethas stepped up beside her, his shield in one hand and his sword in the other. Taradira wished she had a shield of her own in this situation.

From the top of the cliff, a howl sounded, and the Vilret started charging, sliding down the incline, some of them stumbling over and running on all fours. At heart, they were beasts, barely more than wolves, but they moved and acted as a pack, just like wolves. Taradira stood her ground, Alarethas beside her, as more and more crested the hill. At least twenty of the creatures ran at the six of them, hitting the flat ground and closing the gap rapidly.

“Cahire!” Taradira heard Vare shout, followed by the snap of his bowstring, then an echo of the sound of Filarane. The order of events was wrong, but Taradira ignored it, adjusting her stance as the first of the Vilret lunged at her with a spear. With her free hand, she grabbed the neck of the weapon, tugging it and its owner towards her, swinging downward with her own blade, chopping deeply into the beast’s forehead. It fell to the ground at her feet as she pulled her weapon free.

“Where’s Ceravas?” Alarethas turned, looking behind them, ignoring the waves of creatures in front of him. Taradira swore, stepping forward to buy him time. If Vare called out that there were Cahire behind them, then Cera was already dead, likely impaled by a ranged weapon. The fear inside her grew.

Punching an overly eager Vilret in the face and then decapitating another with her sword, Taradira yelled behind her. “Sat, escape route!”

Something flew over her head, two small bottles that burst on contact with the ground, shattering. Small flakes of something spread over the ground, smoking. The second bottle burst into flames, and the flakes ignited, burning brightly. Taradira turned away, seeing Satherevas standing immediately behind her, his face pale.

Ceravas was dead on the ground, hardly more than a short jog away, her body riddled with multiple arrows. Alarethas was already standing over her, his shield up, as he fought three Cahire, the creatures just as tall as him. As Taradira watched, one fell to an arrow from Vare, and Alarethas used his shield to block the axe strike from the second, ramming his sword into the beast’s chest. The movement left him open, as the third wrapped its arms around him, plunging the knives it held into gaps in his armor.

“Do it.” She said, nodding to Satherevas. He did not nod back, looking at her for only a moment, his lips pressed together in a thin line, before he turned, throwing two more objects at his fallen companions. That side of the plateau also burst into flames, smoke floating upwards. “Retreat!” Taradira yelled, shoving Satherevas to the side, away from the flames. The Cahire stumbled out of the smoke, swatting at the flames covering its body. Patting them out did not work. The creature howled and fell to the ground, rolling around on the rock ineffectively. The unnatural flames burned regardless.

Vare and Filarane followed Satherevas, and Taradira trailed behind them, watching their rear, looking for any survivors of the enemy. The four of them ran down the mountain path, fleeing the plateau, working their way back towards the border, though the safety of their stronghold was more than a day away. They had traveled for less than half an hour when Taradira heard a pained scream and instantly recognized it as Satherevas.

The sight when she turned sickened her. The massive beast held her partner, one massive hand wrapped around his torso and the other around his legs, and it ripped him in half. Filarane screamed, shooting an arrow directly into the monster’s mouth, maintaining her aim even in the quickly deteriorating situation. Vare was only slightly slower, dropping his bow and lunging forward with a short sword, plunging it into the beast’s hip. It retaliated by swatting him away, sending him sliding down the side of the mountain before advancing towards Filarane.

Taradira raced forward, swinging her sword and severing the fingers of the creature as it tried to swipe at the archer. Its other hand came and knocked her back, Taradira barely staying on her feet and sliding backwards. Filarane fired again, point blank, her arrow lodging itself in the eye of the monster before it managed to grab her with its good hand and bash her against the ground, leaving a bloody stain. Taradira ran forward again, ducking a swing of the other hand and striking at the Direag’s stomach, the curved axe-blade of her weapon slashing through flesh. Blood spilled out of the long, deep slice. She scrambled away from the creature as it fell over, slamming the ground and letting go of Filarane’s limp body. The archer was, without a doubt, dead.

Looking back up the path, Taradira could see the distant shapes of pursuers. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she stepped off the path, onto the steep slope, half-sliding and half tumbling down the side of the mountain, bouncing off rocky outcroppings as she flailed wildly to slow herself down.

Shortly she came to a rough stop as the slope flattened out. Not too far away lay Vare, covered in blood. His armor was far lighter than hers, and his descent much less controlled. Pushing herself to her feet, ignoring the pain and how her vision swam, she quickly made her way over to him.

He was still alive. Picking up the last member of her squad, Taradira ran.

Vare did not live very long.

Taradira carried him for half an hour before she found a place to hide, slipping into the cave in the rocky terrain. Setting him down, she finally got a good look at his body. His arms and legs were all broken in multiple places, and though he still breathed, he was not conscious. Pulling off the armored cloth he wore, she found his chest covered in bruises where the rocks had scraped the skin off entirely. His face was in an even worse state, with his nose broken, one eye crushed, and many of his teeth missing.

When he woke up, he moved the upper part of his left arm, the lower trailing uselessly, towards his waist. Taradira looked, and pulled out his dagger. With one eye, he stared at her and nodded, before tilting his head back, exposing his neck.

“Hatharen do not kill other Hatharen.” She said, drawing the blade. She could not imagine how much pain his injuries caused him, but the other four were dead. It was unlikely that she would be able to carry him to the stronghold alone. “That is our most important law.” She plunged his knife into his throat.