1

The morning sun squeezed between the trees, burning his pale skin; the campfire nearby didn't help him much temperature-wise either. That discomfort didn’t convince him to open his eyes, and for a while he was content to lay there listening to the sounds of the forest waking up around him, at least until the smell of cooked meat came along.

Cammo knelt beside the fire holding up the leg of some deer-like thing with a stick, the rest of the animal's corpse lying about five feet behind him. Placing his left hand on the stick and his right on its ankle, he took a bite, removing a surprisingly large chunk, bloody and stringy, then chewed it, and swallowed it. Plum sat beside him, eating with a thick wooden fork off a small metal pan with slices of orage surrounding the meat inside.

The deer-like thing's head was demolished, its neck and skull were split completely down the middle, spilling its tongue and brain matter onto the ground. Vincenzo rose up, eyes glued to its large size that matched his own from its head to its tail.

“Good morning!” Plum said, shoving a greasy morsel between her chubby cheeks. “You humgy?” Her mouth was still full.

“Morning,” Vincenzo said, running a hand down his face. Cammo was silent, only acknowledging him with a glance. “Could I have some of that?”

Cammo looked at him in annoyance before motioning over to the corpse. Vincenzo remembered every asshole on the street who’d look at him like that. He also remembered throwing them into an alley, beating the shit out of them, and mugging them for all they had, and smiled at the memory. The deer-thing’s split head threw him off that route, however. Cammo could split his head if he liked. Instead, he walked over to the carcass which had already been gutted partly.

“How’g chu sleep?” Plum asked, still chewing.

“It was nice. No dreams,” Vincenzo replied, examining the animal. “You?”

“None,” she said, grinning.

The “emp” (it was still weird as hell thinking she wasn’t human, even still) had fallen asleep a good half-hour into his story, and it looked like it was sound. He rolled on his back a minute after and stared up at the sky in contemplation, taking everything in. That was where he repeated solid (yet unbelievable) truths: Marco was dead; last night, he died and came back to life; he was on another planet called Overworld; he was immortal to an extent; and he was alone. The girl was fine company for a bit, but she wasn’t exactly a confidant, being too young and too “alien” to relate too for lack of a better world. And her father? That guy hated him. Vincenzo let that slide though, half because he’d probably get killed if he didn’t and the other half because of the girl. There was bad blood between them of some kind—of what kind he wasn’t sure—but he doubted that she wanted him dead. And, like Vincenzo, Cammo didn’t want her dead either. He went to sleep after ten minutes with the same question he had on his mind earlier in the day: Why am I here? He didn’t feel rested.

Vincenzo yawned and looked at her with a tired smile. “Good,” he said. At least she slept well, if anyone did. “That’s good.”

He went back to the animal. Its fur was a shade of dark green with hooves of a similar color, and small antlers hung off the top of its split head. Its mouth was just like a deer's, housing only molars. The last thing of note was the trunk that laid flaccid on the left side of its face, wrinkled and long, similar to an elephant. It was a nasty looking thing, but God, it smelled like heaven. Anything that wasn’t a goddamned orage was probably going to taste like heaven.

Cammo tossed him a sizable knife, and Vincenzo used it to hack off another leg and started to roast it over the flame.

“Vincenzo, what’s your spell?” Plum asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Cammo coughed hard, almost choking on his half-eaten leg. The moment he got his bearings he knocked her upside the head and glowered at her. Vincenzo’s immediate thought was that she would start to cry, but she only glowered right back.

“What?! It's a good question!” Plum argued.

“I may have mentioned it once or twice, but he doesn't even know what a spell is,” Cammo said. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What are spells?” Vincenzo asked, taking a bite of some venison.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Cammo said.

“Spells are—” Plum started.

“Quiet!” Cammo shouted, shutting her up. “Just because he saved you doesn't mean he has good intentions. I don’t want to hear another word from you.” He glared at Vincenzo. “Or from you.”

Plum opened her mouth to argue, but another glare from him stopped that. She crossed her arms and turned away from him, looking indignant.

“Let's move,” Cammo said, getting up. “It looks to be a hot day, and it's best to make progress during the early hours.”

2

They did get moving, the chatter between the three at a minimum, as it’d been the first day. Vincenzo ate as they hiked, wondering just what they meant by “spell” and wondered about everything in general. After Cammo’s explosion in the morning, he decided against asking. The answer to that question would not come as they walked through thickets and small clearings, and maybe not for a long time—but Vincenzo knew they’d come eventually. They had too. If they didn’t, Vincenzo Guerriero would be thoroughly fucked. So, he kept his head pointed at the ground and lugged his pack around in the heat, feeling the time slip by as the sun rose high right over them. Cammo’s prediction was correct, with the temperatures getting as high as ninety degrees. High enough for Vincenzo to be in a constant state of discomfort; sweat ran down his pale skin and the sun beat down on him, the only respite being a small iron canteen which kept fresh water cold enough to actually enjoy. The others were in a much better position, walking as if nothing was wrong. Was that because they were emps? Whatever it was, Vincenzo felt his energy sap quick.

After walking for hours, they finally took a break at a small stream, filling their canteens and washing the sweat off their faces. Plum’s cheeks were a much darker purple, most likely from the physical excursion. Even if her body was more capable at handling extreme temperatures, the long march was a different story. Long pink hair, which reached down to her shoulders, clung to the sides of her cheeks. She pulled out a primitive brush, trying her best to straighten out any knots while sitting on a dead log bridging the stream. Cammo looked much better, probably due to his size and age; his cheeks stayed the same lavender color they had been when they left in the morning. He whittled a small log that fit in the palm of his hand, barely looking up at the other two resting. And Vincenzo looked the worst: the skin on his face and hands and his arms and his shins were as red as could be. Plum’s handiwork only covered the essentials. He kept splashing himself with water to numb the pain. Whatever power let him grow back entire limbs struggled against the sun's rays, leaving him burnt and angry.

“Are you okay?” Plum asked, stopping her arm mid brush.

“No,” Vincenzo answered, sounding just as pissed as he felt.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay…” she said, seeming defeated.

Cammo got up and picked something out of the bag Vincenzo was forced to carry, pulling out a small vial of a dull red liquid, and motioned for the pale one to extend his hand. When he did, Cammo began to explain: “This is some heart-fruit extract. It’s rare and expensive, and we don’t have a whole lot… Rub it on your burn and it should be able to pick up the slack your ‘gift’ couldn’t. It should reinforce it too, so you won’t have to worry about burning again.”

“Thanks,” Vincenzo said, seeing a long sludge-like liquid drool onto his palm. “I’m guessing this is how she healed so fast?”

Cammo sealed the vial with its cork and nodded. “Normally you’d ingest it for bad injuries; internal and external both. But something like this, topical should be fine. Heals scarring, too. But it doesn’t seem like you need to worry about that.”

“And it tastes really bad,” Plum commented, pulling hard on her hair to get out a knot. “It’s bitter… and—OW!”

Plum scowled as the brush got stuck on a knot, worsening her already bad mood. She pulled it up only for it to get caught on another knot of errant hair—it didn't take long for her to chuck the brush into the stream in frustration.

Cammo only looked up for a moment before returning to his whittling, uninterested. Plum stared at him, waiting for him to comfort her, but he just kept whittling away. It was when she gave up that Vincenzo himself approached. That, Cammo noticed, and pulled out a meaty looking sword from his pack in response, eyeing him with the same stony expression he wore for most of the journey.

“I already know you could kill me at any time! I believe you. I got. I get it. Now let me deal with this,” Vincenzo said, sitting down next to her and letting his feet fall in the stream. Cammo let the metal slide back into the sheath hidden in his pack, but still kept a cautious eye on the young man. Vincenzo rolled his black eyes at him and turned back over to the small girl. “Give me your hair, I'll fix it for you.”

She yanked it away, a small amount of fear in her eyes. Something about that look gave him more than enough anxiety; Cammo sat up slightly straighter. “You're not going to cut it!” she yelled.

He felt relieved. “No, of course not,” he said. “I’m going to braid it.”

She looked even more surprised. “Huh?” What would a big (bald) man know about braiding hair? That’s what he guessed she was thinking. “You?”

“Who else?”

She looked away and contemplated trusting him with it, before deciding it was okay and turning around

“What kind of braid?” she asked.

“French braid.”

“What's that?”

“You'll find out.”

“Okay… Where did you learn to do this?” she asked, crossing her legs.

“Don’t worry about it and just relax…” he said.

The next couple of minutes passed without much issue, Cammo having calmed down five minutes in. At the end, the French braid was complete and Plum was beaming; hair stopped sticking to the sides of her chubby cheeks and she shook her head to see the rope of pink dangle about from side to side.

“Thank you!” she said, smiling at him. “I love it!”

“Don’t worry about it…” he replied. “Long hair can be annoying, especially in hot weather like this.”

She nodded, twirling around to test the soundness of her braid. It didn’t disappoint, staying both solid and flexible just like the skirt of her dress.

“I love it,” she repeated.

Vincenzo nodded and walked off the log. “To be honest, I never really thought I’d braid hair again.”

“Why not?” she asked curiously, following behind him to her own.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just never thought I would… Hey, Cammo, you ready?”

Dark green light erupted from Cammo’s body, and he crushed the wooden figurine he’d been working on effortlessly in his right hand. Vincenzo stepped back a little when he did, confused by his sudden aggression.

“Yes,” he answered calmly. “Get ahead of me, Plum.”

She did, not even registering the splinters of what he was working on.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said, facing Vincenzo. “It's a good luck thing.”

“Yeah, okay…” he responded, following them. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Then the three of them set off again, Plum’s new hair being much more convenient for navigating the thick woodlands. There still wasn't any real conversation between them, not that they could with Cammo growling at every vocalization either of them tried to make. And Vincenzo’s pale skin seemed to stop burning, just like Cammo promised. They hiked until sunset and found an especially large gap in the trees and set up camp for the night.

The birds' songs were slowly replaced by the hum and chirps of invisible insects, just loud enough to carry themselves over the cool breeze and the rustling of the leaves. Vincenzo shifted uncomfortably under dark shade, feeling the weight of the day fall on him all at once. Cammo sat himself against a tree, sleeping silently. He didn’t bother holding Plum like the last night again, figuring out loud that he’d be quicker at killing the stranger than the stranger could kill them. And Plum played with her hair until breaking the silence.

“What is a human anyways?” she asked, softly as to not wake her interruptive father.

Vincenzo sat up against the bark. “A human is a human,” he answered quickly. “Please don’t ask dumb questions, I’m not in the mood…” Walking around in the hot sun with sixty pounds on the back tended to do that.

She shrank back a little while sitting on her heels, playing with the end of her neat braid to fill the silence. “I was just curious… I mean, you have white skin, you’re super tall, and you have weird eyes,” she said. “It’s freaky.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“You're one to talk,” Vincenzo said, sliding his hand down his face. He wondered if he’d have to stay up talking to her again, to keep her from getting nightmares. If he did, he would, but he also wondered how useful he’d be in the morning.

“Yeah, but your black eyes are scary!” said Plum, careful not to rouse Cammo from slumber. Quieter, she continued: “They’re freaky…”

“You think so?” Vincenzo said, pretending to look hurt.

She looked as sorry as could be. “No, I said the wrong thing there.” She twiddled the end of her braid between her thumbs. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Vincenzo felt some small joy from her apology, at knowing she cared. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just joking around,” Vincenzo said, relieving her. “It is a creepy color, I’ll admit. Especially the way my pupil blends in with it. I’ve looked it up, and apparently having a black eye color can’t even happen.”

“Aren't they black?”

“No, according to Google, it's just a really dark brown,” Vincenzo explained. “My eyes are just dark-brown.”

“What's Google?”

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing important.” Explaining what a car was to a little girl who never even saw a horse was difficult enough. He wasn’t even going to attempt the internet.

“You're wrong, though. They're definitely black,” she said, squinting hard at him. “Move your face closer into the light, and I’ll be able to see.”

He did and she moved closer as well, staring closely at his face, unafraid of his thuggish features. She sat back down looking content. “They’re definitely black!” She sounded sure. “Us emps have great eyesight, and papa said we could even see more shades of colors than any other species.” She sat up straight, prideful in that fact. “They are black.”

“Well, I guess there's no point in arguing with you…” Vincenzo conceded, laying on his back and staring back at the fading orange sky. While it made him some kind of genetic anomaly, he didn’t think about it much and didn’t care. So what if he had black eyes? “Say, are there any predators in this forest?”

“No. Why do you ask?” she asked, twiddling the end of her braid.

“Your dad said this was no normal forest.” Half the reason he came along was because he thought he could help keep her safe. But keeping someone safe meant there was something to keep them safe from. Deer-things—jers, Plum and Cammo called them—and bugs and rat-things were no threat. If anything, they were the threat. So what was the issue? “But from what I see so far, this place is a paradise (not to pale people maybe). Just makes me wonder what he meant…”

“I’ve only ever been in the core. So, I don't know, either.”

“Core? What do you mean by that?” Vincenzo asked, turning to face her.

“Mmnn.” She shrugged.

Vincenzo looked over at the sleeping father, examining his features. Cammo was skinny, with strips of taut muscle. He wondered how a small guy like him managed to kill an absolute monster like Boon, with the only explanation being that weird energy that surrounded him at the time. He began to think he was missing something fundamental to the whole situation. He was missing a lot about his situation. He turned onto his side, shoving questions he had no way of answering out of his mind. After a while, the weariness of his body stopped feeling so tight, and he could just lay down and let every limb fall into sleep, the strength in each leaving him.

“This is nice,” he said, finally understanding why so many people loved nature. It was inconvenient as hell, but also calming at the same time. “The breeze on my face, the warm air, the quiet… Very peaceful…”

“It’s boring,” Plum muttered. “I’d much rather live in a city.” He had told her about them. “This place can get dull.”

“You might not be wrong… Maybe I will get bored after a bit… but this is a nice change of pace.” His “pace” used to be getting shot at, stabbed at, and lit on fire. “Like I said: peaceful.”

Fuck off, his mind thought. This kind of life isn’t for you. You should be dead. You deserve to be dead. But he was alive. That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. Now he was laying down in the middle of a magical forest with a magical girl and her magical father, feeling empty and calm. The hole in him grew a little deeper. It isn’t fair that you’re still alive.

You don’t think I know that? he retaliated, closing his eyes to shut it out. I’ll deal with that after… But I’m going to relax for now, so shut the fuck up. For now, he’d follow Cammo and Plum, learn what he could, and then go back to throwing himself into knives, or more accurately this time, swords. Vincenzo was still done, and nothing had changed, magic or not. He was alone.

The voice in his head retreated into silence, leaving him amongst the pleasant forest noises with a content smile.

“Do you think I would have fit in in Italy?” Plum asked. “I’d like to think I would…”

“I doubt it,” Vincenzo answered honestly.

“And why not?” she asked, only play-angry.

“Plum, you’re purple.” He opened one eye, as if to confirm that fact. She was still purple. “People where I come from usually aren’t. People can be very vain and very mean. That’s a general fact of life.”

Her mood deflated when she heard that, just like a kid when they were told that it wasn’t really Santa who left them all those presents. “That’s a shame… But honestly, after hearing all about Earth, I don’t think it compares to Overworld,” she said, sitting up proud. “You should get excited.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I know what’s out there, but you don’t. And from what I heard from you, it’ll be like nothing you’ve ever seen,” she stated with a secret smile. “You should be excited, not relaxed.”

“Can’t I be both?” he lied.

She sensed that his reply wasn’t the whole truth and pouted at his apathy. “You should act more surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and you seem to be taking this all pretty well…” she pointed out. “And again, from what I heard from you, this kind of thing doesn’t happen where you’re from.”

“What kind of thing?”

“The Blood Moon,” she nearly yelled, pointing her small hand up at the red celestial body peeking through the leaves. “THAT thing! I’ve been thinking about this whole situation from your point of view, and it doesn’t make sense! You should be way more impressed, or scared, or something! Instead, you’re just lying there, not a care in the world.”

“What’s your point?” he asked casually. “If you don’t want to sleep, I can tell you more stories.”

She gave him an exaggerated sigh and threw her arms in the air in resignation, letting her back fall to the grass as she stared up at the coming night. “I guess I don’t have one… And I don’t think I need stories tonight.”

“No?” he questioned, remembering how she looked the night before. Last night she looked like she was on the verge of breaking down. All while her father slept… One thing he could be for her was a friend. “You sure?”

“Mhmm,” she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her ears. “I’ll sleep better now that you’re—” She stopped and opened her eyes, her long ears twitching. She heard something, he could tell.

Vincenzo sat up, looking serious. He could hear it, too.

“What's that?” Plum asked, worried.

“Shhh, wake up your dad,” Vincenzo whispered, his gut sending him on high alert.

What stopped Vincenzo was a small branch’s snap, which along the journey he was usually able to believe was a small animal, or just his imagination. But this was different; it was coming for them in the same direction they arrived… and it was getting close. Branches snapped as a low thud hobbled along until it must've been only twenty feet away. Plum could maybe make it out, but all Vincenzo could tell that it was about six feet tall and stood on four legs.

“Papa! Papa! Wake up!” she whispered.

Cammo was roused from his slumber easily—like he also sensed the danger—and grabbed the sword from his pack before standing up. He didn't say a word, only squinting to make out its shape. It shambled closer until it was only ten feet away.

“Ah, it's just a jer. They’re grazers, so there’s no threat,” Cammo said, loosening his grip slightly. “We were eating one earlier. It is strange it's coming so close, though. Must be sick.”

Plum let out a relieved sigh as she came out from behind Cammo. The jer came closer, barely able to walk as it teetered back and forth. Vincenzo was the closest, only five feet away from it, but the coming night was still too dark for him to make it out completely. Cammo and Plum stood next to each other behind him, when Cammo’s grip tightened suddenly. The animal walked into the campsite revealing its horrid appearance to the trio. A look of surprise and anger flashed on Cammo’s face, before he exhaled coolly and managed to conceal behind his usual stony expression.

It was a fucking monster. And it was the same jer they’d eaten that morning. The two limbs the men had butchered were replaced by vibrant red muscle—it wasn’t hobbling because it was wounded, it was hobbling because the rest of its body couldn't keep up. The side of its chest that it was gutted from displayed the same red tissue, while its split skull held itself together by a series of canines that interlocked in grotesque stitches. Its pupils dilated to cover the entirety of its eyes, making it look hollow.

Vincenzo stepped back cautiously while Cammo pulled the leather mask over his face. Not a single one of them made a sound, they just waited for it to make a move… any move.

Without warning, the jer rushed towards Plum in a gallop! Vincenzo jumped in front and grappled its neck, stopping it suddenly, and pushed against it with his body as it dug its dull hooves in the dirt.

“Pass me the alcohol!” Cammo instructed Plum.

The dark green aura he used previously enveloped him as he ran to the left side of the jer. He held his thick and heavy sword high and chopped it deep into the thing’s spine, making every limb buckle from the force. The huge gash the sword left was covered up by more red tissue, allowing it to stand again. It was immortal. Cammo groaned in frustration as Vincenzo kept it in place with all the strength he could muster, and the emp stabbed through it violently, but the bloody spurts stopped a second later as the wound closed, rendering every attack useless… “Balls to it!” Cammo grunted angrily, tossing the blade to his left hand. “Let go!”

Vincenzo did, but instead of stepping back he pushed against the jer’s chest to keep it from moving towards its obvious target: Plum. Cammo reared his stone-like right arm back like a cannon and punched its ribs in a swift yet brutal motion, sending the thing rolling across the ground with force the Italian had to marvel at.

“Oh, merda!” Vincenzo yelled, examining the gigantic depression left in its side. He was glad he never ignored Cammo’s threats. “Che figata!”

“Plum, the alcohol!” Cammo yelled, extending his right hand towards her in anticipation.

She rummaged through his pack quickly, frantically looking for the container inside… A nervous and hopeful smile spread across her lips. “I got it!” she claimed, holding the glass bottle up. “I got it! I got it!”

The jer rose again, its depression having already healed with a supernatural speed, almost as fast as their own moon-man healed his own wounds. Plum tossed the bottle in Cammo’s hand just as it jumped past Vincenzo, and Cammo shattered the bottle of flammable liquid against the thing with a throw. Just before Cammo could set it alight with the flint and steel in his hand, the creature kicked at him with a mutated leg! He brought both of his stone-colored arms across his chest as its hoof collided, sending him into a tree and splintering the old wood in the process. Vincenzo punched the side of its head only for it to kick him as well—unlike Cammo, his chest caved in. It broke through his flesh and bone, getting stuck inside his body. He coughed up blood as it shook him off before stepping down on him with its right leg to help pull away. Horrible injuries were becoming the norm. Cammo ripped himself away from the wood and cracked the beast in its lower jaw, making it fly off as if it was never attached. Vincenzo stood up slowly and weakly, hand over where the cavity had been made. His chest was already repaired but the pain it inflicted remained; it took him a moment to control his breathing. The emp pulled out his fire starter and pointed it towards the corrupted animal, as it grew a new jaw filled entirely with sharp canines and observed him with hollow eyes. It wasn’t a “jer” anymore, it was a zombie of strength, a slave to its purpose—the purpose to kill.

“Burn,” Cammo ordered calmly.

He squeezed the flint and steel, sending sparks onto its alcohol-soaked body which set it alight. Vincenzo backed up against one of the many trees and breathed a sigh of relief. Fire had gotten him, so maybe it would get it?

“Did we win?” he asked, closing his eyes. He was tired in general, and another fight to the death was the last thing he needed or wanted. There goes the peace.

Cammo clicked his tongue in frustration, cracking his knuckles as his red eyes saw the truth. “No, it looks like we didn't,” he answered, his skin growing grey and hard. The fire died quickly all across its body, shaving off the mossy green hair on its back. It only went skin deep, literally, and left it a walking mess of exposed, twitching red muscle.

“Minchia,” Vincenzo cursed, pushing himself off of the trunk.

“Don’t try,” Cammo said, stepping forward. “I’ll take care of this.”

He followed the masked man’s order and backed away to Plum’s side. She’d been good, staying far away from the action at all times, running from end to end as shit was going down. Her eyes were wide, but otherwise she was calm.

“Are you okay?” Plum asked, looking at the blood stains on his chest and mouth.

“I’m fine, but I’d be more worried about him,” Vincenzo said, motioning over to Cammo.

Plum shook her head. “I wouldn’t…”

The masked man stood before the giant creature and spit at it through an opening of his own mask, and the zombie looked down at him with murder in its eyes and crouched slightly, meeting him at his level… and charged! Cammo caught it by the sharp antlers and yanked it upwards violently with an audible crack! and pulled it to the ground, twisting its head until he pulled it off, spraying red. He shoved his hand down the things throat and rummaged around inside violently.

Vincenzo promptly covered Plum’s eyes with his large hands as he watched Cammo obliterate the thing. “Jeez…”

New muscle and sharp teeth would grow out of every gouge and gap, but Cammo would just keep gouging and creating gaps all the way until he was covered in a thick sticky layer of blood. “I’ve got you now!” Cammo yelled angrily, throwing entrails aside and ripping something out of the body. The jer fell limp and only occasionally twitched when he did, letting him step out from inside the corpse.

He held a squirming slug as black as tar, large slimy wings spraying mucus on him as it tried in vain to flap away, screeching like a cornered… Well, Vincenzo had nothing to liken it too, but it was high-pitched and unholy. Some got onto the surface of the already blood-stained mask, making Cammo frown in disgust. “Fucking wretch!” he said, squeezing it hard. Its internal organs sprouted from its higher end like a fountain with a revolting squelch, falling onto his wrist and forearm the same way a busted sewage pipe would. Vincenzo thought it was one of the most disgusting things he’d ever seen… one of them, at least.

He stopped blocking Plum’s view and wiped the still wet blood on his face, resting his hands on her small, thin shoulders. Cammo threw the flaccid piece of tar-like skin aside as well as his stained clothes, leaving only some relatively clean-looking undergarments to hide his manhood.

“So that's why this forest is special… Anything you kill comes back to life,” Vincenzo said, letting Plum go and walking over to the jer. “No… No, I’m wrong, aren’t I? You would’ve seen it coming.”

“I would’ve,” Cammo said, looking much more worried than before. He cooled his expression back to stone. “This is something completely different, fool.”

“Then what is it?” Plum asked, averting her eyes from the grisly aftermath.

“This isn't something that would be beneficial for you to know, so I’ll tell you,” Cammo said, facing Vincenzo.

He said, “It’d be nice if you told me something beneficial…”

“Shut it, don't push your luck.” Annoyed, the skinny emp, bloodstained and sweaty, sat down. “This is a spell and blessing by an old friend…”

“Friend?” Vincenzo asked. He never remembered the words “gift” and “blessing” when Cammo referred to wizards, only moon-men. But that couldn’t be, he thought.

Plum was confused too. “Who, papa? Tell us.”

“Not now!” he said angrily, so harsh that Plum flinched from the tone. “This is no time for stories.”

She pouted and walked towards his clothes, holding it with two fingers on one arm and dragged it away from the ever-expanding pool of blood—Cammo grabbed it and tossed it right back in without so much as a pause.

“It’s unwashable; don’t even bother,” Cammo ordered.

“So why isn't he here now?” Vincenzo asked, kneeling by the body and tearing off a piece of its mutated tissue. “The ‘friend’, I mean.” The muscle seemed much denser than the rest of its tissue (the normal, unmutated tissue to be exact), which explained how it was able to easily knock a hole in his chest… “Doesn’t he have to be close?”

“His ‘blessing’ is only effective when combined with his spell, but even then, he can’t really do direct damage with it. This does the damage for him. It's obvious he’s improved, however… I can tell by the slug’s wings. It never had wings…” Cammo sighed. “And now it does. It can fly. And unless they’re close, it can fly far.”

“Papa, you never told me about anything like this!” Plum said, glaring at him.

“You, shut it!” Cammo said. Plum turned from him and crossed her arms. “Listen Vincenzo, me and you will kill them all. And you, Plum, will stay here and follow after us at sunrise.”

Plum scanned the murder scene once before staring back at him with anxiety. “Does it have to be right here?” The thing twitched again and made her flinch. “Please?”

“Obviously not…” he said, lighting a torch. “Just hang around this general area, and don’t wander off. Now, come on, moon-man. We have work to do. Take the torch and your pack.”

“Do I have a choice of not doing that?” Vincenzo asked, grabbing the torch which Cammo offered and carrying his huge pack. “What if something else comes for her?”

Cammo only looked at him as if he were a retard. “She’ll be fine.” He started away, only pausing to look over his shoulder and glare at him. “Now.”

Vincenzo reluctantly followed behind, still tired as hell. He hadn’t gotten a good rest since the morning.

“Be safe…” Plum said when they had gotten far.

“We will!” Vincenzo called back. She was gone behind columns of wood and her voice was nervous and small. “Don’t forget! Sunrise! Come for us at sunrise!”

Then there was a smile in her: “I won’t! Good luck!”

With that, Vincenzo turned ahead.

Cammo stayed silent, not acknowledging his daughter in the slightest. The two of them walked through the night, using the light the flames provided as guidance, into dangers unknown.