View now, kin, the path that hath been wrought. The wake of predecessors, their intellect, guile, cunning. Your blood, their blood, surging toward the same basin. The Boglands take note of your willingness to flee.

My senses slowly returned as I groggily blinked awake. The dull pain at the base of my skull was pronounced, a heavy throb that seemed to beat in time with my pulse. My body felt like it had been run over by a freight train, muscles sore and joints stiff and I was as tender as a bruised peach.

Still in a daze, the last remnants of my dream faded, and memories of the recent events rushed in. The beast, the chase, the roots, the magic... It crashed down on me. It wasn't my imagination or a hallucination—well, it might be a hallucination, but I was starting to doubt it considering the crick I had in my neck from the near whiplash I’d gotten from being flung through the air like a damn ragdoll. As I slowly processed the events, an irrational fear took hold: what if I'd had a stroke? Immediately, my breath grew shallow and harsh, and my vision began to tunnel. And even though it seemed silly given the circumstances, I started the FAST stroke test. I raised my arms, checked my speech, and tried to feel my face, pressing my fingers to my lips as I forced a smile, to ensure they weren't crooked or slack.

A chuckle escaped me and turned into a sigh of relief. My sight slowly began to return to normal, my pulse quieting down as I amused myself over my foolishness. How absurd it felt to be checking for a stroke after everything that had transpired. But it was a deeply ingrained habit, a morning ritual that had been a part of my life for years. The irony of it wasn't lost on me. Here I was, having just narrowly escaped a monstrous beast using a spell, and my first waking thought was a medical one. Every one of my doctors, whatever their credentials, had assured me that this line of reasoning wasn't reasoning at all but anxiety. But, I'll bet a lot of money that they'd never had a patient with magic, metallic diamonds wedged into their occipital lobe before.

I looked down at myself and almost laughed again because I was still wearing my hospital gown. It was cold, but much of the moisture I'd accumulated since arriving here had dried. Little blessings.

Drawing my attention back to my surroundings, I realized the dim twilight of the marsh was still present. Time seemed to blur in this place—it was hard to tell how long I'd been out, but best I could tell, it was likely a few hours. So, wasn't it weird that the sun hadn't gone down yet?

That got me thinking about other oddities. Everything I'd witnessed and experienced so far was…well, it was a lot. That got me thinking, too…I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to do for this so-called trial. Was I supposed to…kill the giant crocodile monster? If so, I felt like I would almost certainly fail. There was no way I, weaponless, in my damp medical smock, could take that thing down, no matter how determined I was. And, to be fair, I wasn't feeling very determined about anything right now except trying to get out of here without being eaten and maybe grab a bite myself. My stomach was doing an awful lot of groaning too, and I realized with enormous disappointment it had been some time since I'd eaten anything. I wasn't sure how long I'd been here as yet, but my MRI had been in the morning, and I hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before. This would get hairy quick if I didn't get any grub in me.

However, there was something else now. The air felt different—charged.

An inexplicable sensation made the hairs on my neck stand on end. The huge black-and-green death machine was nowhere in sight, but I knew I wasn't alone. I could feel eyes on me, watching, waiting. The stillness was unnerving. Multiple pairs of peepers, even. Unseen, invisible, boring into me; gazes heavy and intent.

Swallowing hard, I tried to command my voice not to waver, and in a near-whisper, I asked, "Who's there?"

The silence that followed was a tense pause that felt like an eternity. Then, soft rustling sounds emerged from the shadows, hinting at the presence of whatever—or whoever—shared this nest of roots with me.

A gentle, cautious movement broke the stillness. From deeper within the shadows, a creature emerged. Slowly, it took shape. It had a strange appearance, and though it was roughly the size of a small dog, the body bore a striking resemblance to a goat, with a stout build and sturdy legs ending in cloven hooves. But unlike any goat I'd ever seen—and I’d seen a few, mind you—its fur was a lush tapestry of mossy greens and earthy browns, appearing both soft and bristly to the touch. Wait a tick…it didn’t just look like moss…this was moss. All over its body were lichen-like growths, giving this thing a very “natural” look about it. I took casual note of small, wingish protuberances quivering on its back. However, they didn’t look fully-formed, or were possibly some kind of evolutionary leftover. You know, if this place was even a product of evolution.

Still, it was the creature's face that truly captivated me. Dominated by two large, round eyes reminiscent of an owl's, they shimmered with curiosity. The depth in those orbs felt like they held…knowledge, or something. I'm not sure how I knew, but within there was a spark that radiated intelligence, but there was also an innocence, a wonder—perhaps about me. The gaze held mine, and for a fleeting moment, there were no other sounds. Then it made a noise. It actually startled me. It was a sort of clicking, and that's when I realized there was something else about this encounter.

This strange creature wasn't alone.

Before I could fully process this odd, shrimpy beast, more of them appeared, their eyes similarly filled with caution and intrigue. Every subtle noise, from the distant marshland bird cries to the gentle whisper of the reeds, caused their tufted ears to twitch responsively. Oddly enough, the wing-like structures on their backs fluttered occasionally, hinting at some latent emotion or reflex.

Seeing them up close, I realized they were more endearing than threatening, sort of cute but still a little…eerie. Something I’d missed at first was that they each had a pair of stubby horns on the crowns of their heads. The first one to arrive had forked prongs, while some of the others had little nubs or ones that ended in curls or sharp points. The way their eyes studied me, large and full of intelligence, their gaze seemed to ask a thousand questions—Who was I? Why was I here? Was I dangerous? I don’t know that any of us knew what to make of the other party, especially considering the pregnant silence we sat in just…gazing.

Finally, after both sides had performed the appropriate amount of gawking, the same creature that had approached initially—perhaps braver than the others—took a few tentative steps closer. Its cloven hooves made soft, muted sounds against the earth and roots. It tilted its head like a curious dog might, then emitted a soft, trilling sound, almost like a question. The others watched intently, clearly waiting for my reaction.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Clearing my throat, I attempted a smile, trying to appear non-threatening.

"Hey there...gang. I'm Leo. I didn't mean to intrude."

The creature responded with another soft trill, followed by a series of clicks and chirrups. Its companions echoed the sounds, creating a symphony of strange but not unpleasant noises. They seemed to communicate amongst themselves, trying to make sense of this unexpected guest.

One of the beasts chirruped happily and began prancing merrily as if excited.

Okay, these things are too cute and must be protected at all costs.

My stomach groaned again, and I placed a hand on it and winced. Ain’t gonna be long now ‘til I’m nothing but bones…

However, I thought about that. What better way to get food than to figure out what the locals ‘round these parts tucked into. These owl-goat creatures seemed intelligent enough, didn’t they? At the very least, they seemed to know caution, and not in the usual way that animals did. So…

"Hey," I began, "Do you guys know where I can find some food? Maybe some berries or edible plants? Anything really. Heck, is there a cheeseburger tree somewhere in this swamp?" I chuckled at my own joke.

The creatures exchanged looks with each other, their round eyes blinking in rapid succession. The leader—maybe, the bold one who seemed to command a certain respect among the group, trilled at the others. Their conversation, if you could call it that, was fascinating to watch, and I tried to decipher any pattern or meaning in their exchanges. Before I knew it, all but the brave one had dispersed, each climbing deeper into the roots, leaving me alone with the remaining owl-goat in the dim twilight. My stomach grumbled louder.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably just a couple minutes, one of the creatures returned, its hooves drumming excitedly on the ground. In its mouth, it held something which it promptly deposited in front of me. I leaned forward, squinting to get a better look. It was a bug. A big’un.

“Oh…” I said.

The, uh, gift before me seemed as if a beetle and a cockroach had a forbidden romance. Its shiny carapace reflected the muted light, revealing intricate patterns. The creature's legs wriggled, trying to turn itself upright and scuttle away. The sheer size of it made my skin crawl. I grimaced. These guys clearly had a different palate than I did.

Before I could react, the other creatures began returning, each bearing their own offerings—more bugs, worms of various sizes and colors, and one even had what looked like an acorn. They placed their treasures in front of me, their eyes shining with expectation.

"Thanks," I said, forcing a smile, "You guys are too kind."

My gaze shifted between the array of wriggling creatures and the expectant faces of the little adorable hybrids. There was no way I could eat any of these, but I also didn't want to offend them. But, hell…despite the sub par fixin’s before me, I had to appreciate the fact that these things had understood me. At least, I was pretty sure they had. They may have just heard my stomach grumbling and drawn their own conclusions. Either way, though—that took an amount of insight and intellect. Which meant I had to at least pretend to enjoy my…bounty.

Picking up the acorn, I nodded appreciatively. "This... this looks delicious." I said, hoping to divert their attention from the squirming buffet they'd presented. The leader chirped happily, apparently pleased with my response.

I brought the acorn to my lips, sniffing it. Yep, smells like dirt, I thought. I plucked the crown of it off the top and—unlike any acorn I’d ever seen—saw that there was soft green ‘meat’ beneath the lighter shell. So I peeled back more of the shell. Then, with all eyes on me, I started off my culinary journey in the Boglands by taking a tentative bite. It crunched as I chewed, and a slightly sweet, somewhat salty flavor met my tongue. It wasn’t bad at all, actually—and sort of reminded me of the taste of an avocado. Hunger overpowered any further caution and I found myself finishing the innards of the acorn quickly. When I was done, I looked back to the owl-goats and nodded.

“Got a fair flavor, don’t it?” I said. “Nice!”

The excited hoof-tapping I received in response was adorable as all hell, and I figured that since I was on a roll, I’d try one of the other offerings: the bugs. Previously, I might’ve hemmed and hawed before eventually deciding to go hungry. I mean, in the past, I’ve refused regular people food because I wasn’t sure where it came from. Things like…cookies left in the breakroom at work, intended to be consumed by the employees, or an unfamiliar dish in a spread of vittles at a get-together. I wasn’t worried about it being poisoned, necessarily—but you never knew what types of monsters would secretly sprinkle something with paprika. Or worse—some folk liked to make baked goods with a little “extra,” like weed, and conveniently forget to tell anyone, assuming no one would mind.

If that sounds unrealistic, I can assure you it had happened to me at least twice—and thankfully I’d asked beforehand on both occasions. I’m not a square—I frequently…partook in the natural bounty of God’s finer herbal supplements. But, I don’t ever want to be accidentally dosed—that’s a rude awakening.

So, not even bothering to smell it, I grabbed one of the larger bugs squirming on the ground and took an immediate bite. Immediately, I realized my mistake. The taste was like getting a bittering agent sprayed directly into the mouth. It burned my tongue in the way acerbic things tend to, and I couldn’t handle it. But, as I was preparing to spit it out, I caught sight of the cute little creatures gazing at me expectantly and paused.

“Mmmm!” I said, wincing and giving them a thumbs-up. Fortunately, subtlety was an artform apparently unknown to these beasts, because they seemed to take my reaction at face value, chirruping merrily as though they’d done quite the good deed. Then, despite the nasty-as-hell flavor turning my mouth into desolate wasteland, I steeled myself and swallowed that disgusting bite of bug.

“It’s…buggy!” I announced, flashing them a grin. “But, uh, well, fellas, I think I’m full. Great work.”

While they were celebrating their victory at having provided the strange man with a fantastic feast, I clandestinely hucked the rest of the bug out of the opening in the roots.

—

A little while later, still groggy from my earlier unexpected nap, I cautiously poked my head out of the roots, scanning my surroundings for any signs of the colossal crocodile monster. But I was careful about it, ready to leap back to safety if the beast tried to decapitate me. Surprisingly, it seemed fine. All was quiet, save for the gentle hum of insects and the distant calls of unfamiliar birds. With the immediate danger apparently gone, I slowly emerged from my hiding place.

The swamp wasn’t safe, but it was calm. So, I ventured further from my makeshift shelter. After only a few steps though, I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. The squad of owl-goats that had been inside the tree with me were now following along, eyeing me curiously. It was an odd sight—these creatures seemed more suited to open fields than swampy forests. Why they had chosen to take refuge inside the tree was beyond me. But, given the bizarre nature of this place, I figured it was best not to overthink things, even if I really, really badly wanted to.

As we moved, the creatures trilled softly. Every now and then, they'd flutter their stubby wings, creating a soft, rhythmic beat. They seemed content to follow me, showing no signs of aggression or fear. That was nice. I mean, you can never be too sure with wild animals, but I’d hedge my bets on these kids being on the level. Kids? Would that be appropriate to call them? That’s what you called young goats, but…well, without knowing what they actually were, it’d have to do, wouldn’t it?

It wasn't long before we reached the bank, and I cast a wary glance around, checking for signs of the murderous reptile, but didn’t see any. Then I heard the little creatures begin to shuffle and chirrup behind me. They were leaving. Each of them began making their way toward the trees we’d just left, looking back before reaching the base. Then, I watched with pure astonishment as the owl-goats began to ascend. They didn't fly; instead, they trotted up the bark, defying gravity with every step. I just stared; fascinated.

The last of them to go was the one with the forked horns—the assumed leader of the bunch. He stayed for a moment, just gazing at me. Then, seeming to have finished his voyeuristic business, he turned to the tree and began climbing up the trunk. I watched him go and smiled a little when I saw them all making their way across the branches high overhead.

“This place is goddamned weird,” I muttered, offering a little wave as they disappeared into the leaves.