"I just think it's neat," said Rets, catching yet another snowflake on the tip of his battle mace. He peered at the slowly melting flake, appreciating the frozen geometric pattern. "We rarely get snow back home and it's almost always wet and slushy. Never this fluffy light powder."

"Slushy is what we're going to be if you don't stop getting distracted by tiny ice," Dracaena said, impatience tinting her voice. "These footprints we've been following make even you look small, and I don't want to end up as fairy purée if whatever they belong to catches us off guard.”

Rets let out an amused huff and watched the snowflake melt from the warmth of his breath. Snowflakes fell in a soft, steady blanket throughout the Winterwood. It wasn't a blizzard, but the snowfall had been persistent for days and the evergreens around the pair bowed with the added weight. Despite the weather, the footprints in question remained plainly visible. Six feet wide and almost four feet deep imprints marked the landscape, taking a meandering path.

"Look at the stride, Dracaena," Rets said, glancing up at his ever practical companion. "At least fifteen yards between prints and not a single broken branch. The legs on this creature must be enormous. I don't think it's an ambush predator we have to be constantly vigilant for."

"Plus, it's important to stop and enjoy the 'little' things in life," Rets said with a mischievous grin as he reached out a finger the size of Dracaena's torso, planning to gently poke the hovering fairy.

"Poke me and you're losing a knuckle." Dracaena replied, the threat punctuated by a short sword that seemingly appeared in her hand from nowhere.

"And remember this beast isn't exactly a vegetarian. At least not according to that farmer's decimated axebeak flock."

The two adventurers had been tracking the unknown monster for three days now, starting from the open plains along the southern edge of the Winterwood. The farmer had stumbled upon the pair while headed south to Emerald City, planning to hire, or if it came to it, beg, some of the town guards or adventuring groups to deal with a new threat that had been stealing livestock in the night. He may have passed Rets and Dracaena altogether, but the nearly eight foot tall and well-armed Firbolg had a surprisingly welcome presence about him. After a meal and some tales of their former exploits with their larger adventuring group, the farmer agreed that maybe the duo could help with his problem. The fact that the help was free held no small sway in his decision-making process.

For Rets and Dracaena's part, they had simply become bored the last few weeks. Adventuring had been slow in and around Emerald City as of late, the walls practically bursting at the seams with groups of adventurers trying to make a name for themselves. The Adventuring Guild was completely full and temporary offices had even been set up near the stables for the newest groups. With a few weeks of leave saved up, Dracaena had suggested they spend some time ranging afield, just to stay sharp. Someone had to be in need of protection from bandits or goblin raiding parties.  The farmer had provided just that opportunity and they were ready for some excitement.

The farmer, Werdna, had led the group back to his fields bordering the Winterwood and presented a gruesome scene. The remnants of three-day old feathers and blood smears were all that remained of nearly a dozen of Werdna's axebeak flock. From the available evidence, something had apparently smashed the normally intimidating seven-foot-tall birds and then eaten the crushed remains. While a single axebeak may not have been too great of a threat to a well-trained warrior or the farmers they imprinted on at birth, the thick legs, sharp talons and wedge-shaped beaks could leave anyone unfamiliar to the creatures with grievous and sometimes deadly wounds. To take on an entire flock is something only the strongest or stupidest of predators would attempt. Werdna's remaining seven axebeaks had been difficult to control, even for their 'adopted' father. Werdna's two sons had needed to assist their father in corralling the agitated animals before Rets and Dracaena were able to search the field for any other clues without being hacked at or impaled.

Eventually, Dracaena declared they had seen enough and there wasn't much point in continuing to stare at the large holes in the farmer's field anymore. It was time to hunt.

The tracks had led them here, wherever here was. One more patch of cold coniferous woods as far as Dracaena was concerned. The bitter wind above the tree cover blew hard enough that she couldn't scout from the sky. Even had she been able to withstand the gusting wind, the rolling hills and deep gorges made it difficult to be sure you weren't missing entire sections of forest. They had already needed to circumvent one gorge that the creature had simply stepped over.

"Technically," Rets said, stowing his mace on its leather loop near his waist, "had the flock been decimated, Werdna would only have lost two axebeaks. The prefix ‘deci’ mea-arghh!"

Rets's impromptu grammar lesson was cut short by Dracaena as she magically enlarged a particularly large snowflake directly above him. The now two-foot-wide snowflake crashed down on Rets's head, shattering and sending cold shards of ice bouncing down the back of his chainmail and shirt.

"As I was saying," Dracaena continued as Rets tried to delicately shake the cold chips of ice from his back, "we don't know anything about what this creature looks like other than it must have large and heavy feet. We need to stay vigilant."

"Fine," Rets replied, his smile and stubbornly good humor belying the feigned annoyance in his voice. "The tracks have seemed fresher over the last few hours.” He glanced to where the sun was already sinking in the western sky. "We only have a bit more than an hour before dark though, so we might as well start looking for a good campsite for the night."

"The trees on the other side of this draw look older. There may be some sheltered and covered areas near their bases." Dracaena said. "I'll head over and scout around. Try not to get too bogged down in the drifts," she said in a sweet tone, and flew off in the direction of the copse of large firs.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Yeah, yeah.” Rets mumbled to the quickly disappearing fairy. Slogging through the snow was far less entertaining than examining the individual snowflakes. He could see the group of trees Dracaena had pointed out and trusted her to find an adequate camp for the night. He would head that way eventually, but since he lacked wings, he decided he’d continue following the unknown livestock killer’s tracks. They were headed toward the draw as well, angled slightly south of the direction Dracaena had gone. With luck, he could follow the tracks to the draw and then walk back up the protected draw where the snow drifts would be less deep. He committed to memory a particularly crooked tree in the approximate location Dracaena had headed and then continued his trek through the snow. 

The footprints were amazingly large. They had fought large monsters before though. A behir had once swallowed an adventurer whole while their entire team could only watch. Talk about being thrown directly into the deep end. They had barely been registered at the Adventurer’s Guild a full day when that emergency call went out. They had handled it though, the skull hanging in the Adventurer’s Guild trophy room was a testament to that. They even had their own plaque engraved and on display underneath it. This felt different to Rets though. The tracks were too plain. No toes. No hooves. And beyond that, an uneasy feeling each time he passed through the tracks would settle in his stomach. As a cleric of the deity Ilmater, he had come to recognize the feeling when in battle with the eldritch horrors of the undead. Whatever they were after had been touched by necromancy, he was sure of it. 

Reaching the draw a few minutes later he confirmed the tracks continued on the same bearing. He could see the tracks disappearing into more of the same woods, mostly evergreens with the occasional lightning killed and burnt husk of a tree or boulder. He turned north intending to find Dracaena and get something to eat. Rets smiled at himself for being correct in his assumption about the sheltered draw having less snow. Just as he started up the draw though a discoloration on an exposed rock caught his eye in one of the large tracks. Up to this point, any exposed ground under the large tracks had consisted of grasses and shrubs crushed into the mud. The track on the edge of the draw had uncovered some loose gravel and larger rocks that the falling snow had not yet fully reclaimed. Turning back to the exposed rock, Rets brushed the gathered snow aside and examined it. A reddish-brown substance had been scraped into the side of the rock with what must have been the downward force of the monster’s step. The gray of the rock made the red substance stand out, and Rets stared at it curiously. Reaching out a finger he picked at the scratch in the rock until his finger came away with a small bit of the substance. There didn’t seem to be any increased presence of the dead or unholy energies coming from the substance. In fact, it looked exactly like that substance most dreaded by every adventurer. Rust.

Why would rust be scraped into the rock by such a gargantuan creature? Images of giant steel armored monsters started to fill Rets’ head. But no, that wasn’t necessarily right. Or at least, steel on the feet didn’t mean the entire animal would be armored. Horse shoes on draft horses did not make them steel clad war mounts ready for battle. And nothing in the tracks had indicated definable features of a foot or shoe. They really were just rounded depressions in the snow, symmetrical to the point they looked like the imprint of enormous marbles dropped on the ground. Rets wracked his brain trying to think of something that matched the few clues he knew at this point. He remembered a story from some dwarves in a tavern at the Adventuring Guild talking about the effectiveness of stone and metal golems that protected their home city. Constructs imbued with magic to guard the city walls as unsleeping sentinels. Could the beast they were after be some sort of construct? A haunted construct?

Rets laughed at himself. A giant haunted metal construct. Either he was way off track or he and Dracaena needed to start looking for a heavenly rust monster. That at least sounded just as ridiculous, and Rets let out another chuckle at his thoughts. Glancing up he turned once again to start toward Dracaena just in time to see a mote of flame leaping out into the sky. The light from the flame and the last rays of evening sunlight lit two towering burnt tree trunks, which were currently rising above the surrounding evergreens. The sound of snapping tree limbs reached Rets at the same moment a featureless head, connected to what Rets could now see were a set of giant black antlers, appeared above the other trees. 

“Shit!” Rets half yelled, his feet already in motion as he pumped his legs up the draw in the direction of Dracaena and the enormous monster. That flame had been Dracaena’s firebolt spell, easily recognizable after years of fighting alongside the tiny assassin. If she was already engaged in battle with the beast, he needed to get there fast. As effective as Rets knew Dracaena could be in one-on-one battles, she was not the type to take the brunt of attacks. That was on him. Keep the enemy distracted and provide healing energy as needed while Dracaena peppered the enemy with ranged fire and backstabs. Somehow, he doubted stabbing a metal construct in the back with a dagger was going to be a viable way to stop this monstrosity though.

As Rets worked his way up the hill, he realized the creature was working its way down. The shaking trees and cracking limbs were getting closer, but strangely there was no accompanying roar or scream from the monster. He had been half expecting something. Beasts of all manners had battle cries, and what better time to let them out than in battle? Did it not have a mouth? He did however start to hear a voice quickly approaching that was very much not a beast or a battle roar.

“Rets!” Dracaena yelled as she hurtled through the trees, deftly dodging tree trunks and branches.

“Here!” Rets called, waving his mace in the air and taking a second to pull his steel kite shield from his back. “Are you ok?”

“Not hit yet,” Dracaena replied, coming to a stop in front of Rets. She was now a full four feet in height, her fluttering dragonfly wings causing small eddies of wind and snow to whip up around her. “Did you see that thing? It’s some sort of big black deer I think.”

“Giant haunted metal construct.” Rets said, motioning Dracaena to move behind him and over toward a more open patch of trees.

“Deathmetal deer?” Dracaena asked, following Rets as she started going through the weapons and attack options she had about her. 

“Sure,” Rets answered, sparing her a glance and raising an eyebrow, “deathmetal deer. How do you want to handle it?”

“I’ve got three concussive arrows, one acid. Distract it and I’ll see if I can take down a leg.” Dracaena said in a rush, readying her first arrow. Despite her magically enhanced size, she was still quite small from Rets perspective. He knew those arrows could pack a punch though, and Dracaena was not one to be dismissed or underestimated. 

“Good enough.” Rets said, and cast a minor shielding buff on the both of them. The warm glow of the spell made them stand out in the darkening understory, but the deathmetal deer had to come to them anyway, might as well guide it.

A few heavy footsteps and breaking trees later and the deer stepped into the small opening, a gaping fanged mouth appearing on the featureless face. Well, thought Rets, guess I was wrong about the mouth.

Then the beast charged.