Chapter seven

The fire crackled warmly as the trio sat in relative silence. Claire leaned back against a log, her body aching and heavy with exhaustion from the day. The flickering light cast long shadows around the clearing, and for the first time since arriving in Grimoria, Claire felt a flicker of something close to safety. The air smelled faintly of cooked meat, and Harold had been generous enough to share the last of the dried jerky.

“Get some rest, Claire,” Elise said quietly, looking up from where she had been sharpening her blade by the fire. Her voice, while firm, lacked its usual edge, softened by the day’s events. “We’ll start your training tomorrow. You’ll need your strength.”

Claire nodded, stifling a yawn. Her body protested every small movement, her ribs and legs sore from the previous day’s events. She set aside the empty plate of jerky Harold had handed her and pulled her cloak tighter around her.

“Not bad for your first day,” Harold chimed in, giving her a small grin. “Elise hasn’t kicked you out yet, so you’re already ahead of me when I first showed up.”

Claire smiled weakly, appreciating the attempt at humor, but it did little to lift the weight of the day. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the crackling fire soon became a soft hum in the background.

As Claire shifted in her bedroll, trying to get comfortable, she caught snippets of Harold and Elise talking in low voices, their conversation just outside the reach of her fading consciousness.

“She’s tough,” Harold muttered, his voice thoughtful. “More than I thought. Not many people come through here and make it more than a day. She… she could surprise us.”

Elise was silent for a moment, her knife scraping softly along her blade. “Maybe,” she replied, though there was a hint of doubt in her tone. “She’s still not used to the Wilds. And she’s hiding something.”

Harold gave a non-committal grunt. “Aren’t we all?”

“Maybe,” Elise repeated, her voice quieting. “But tomorrow will show us how far she’s willing to push herself.”

Claire’s eyes drifted shut, their voices fading into the crackle of the fire. She didn’t have the energy to worry about what Elise or Harold thought of her. Right now, all she wanted was sleep.

The morning air was crisp, the remnants of the previous night’s fire still glowing faintly as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the trees. Claire woke to the smell of something warm, her stomach growling at the scent of Harold’s cooking.

“Morning,” Harold said brightly, stirring a small pot over the fire. “Breakfast is served. Not much, but it’ll keep you going.”

Claire sat up slowly, feeling the tightness in her ribs from the bandages Elise had wrapped the night before. She pulled herself to her feet and walked over to the fire, accepting the simple bowl of food Harold handed her—some kind of thin stew, more broth than substance, but warm and filling enough to get her through the day.

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking a bite and sitting down near the fire. Her muscles were still stiff, but at least she felt more rested than the night before.

Elise, already up and standing at the edge of the camp, was scanning the treeline with sharp eyes, her blade resting casually in her hand. “Eat quickly,” she said, her voice brisk. “We start training as soon as you’re ready.”

“Good morning to you too,” Claire said under her breath, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess.

Harold laughed softly from his spot by the fire. “Elise doesn’t believe in ‘easy mornings.’ She’s all work, no play.”

Elise shot him a look. “In the Wilds, that’s how you survive.”

Claire sighed and finished her meal, knowing she’d need every bit of energy she could get. Once she was done, Elise motioned her over.

“Ready for some real work?” Elise asked, her eyes gleaming with that same sharp intensity from the day before.

“Do I have a choice?” Claire replied, trying to mask her nervousness with a weak grin.

“No,” Elise said, handing her a wooden training stick. “But don’t worry. You’ll thank me later.”

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the clearing. Claire stood at the edge of the small camp, her hand resting on her naginata for a moment before setting it down carefully against a tree. Her body ached from yesterday’s training—her ribs, legs, and especially her pride all still bruised. She stretched her arms out, wincing as she felt the pull of her bandages.

Can’t wait to get beat up again today, she thought sarcastically, already bracing herself for the workout.

Elise, standing opposite her, tossed a wooden training stick into Claire’s hands. Claire fumbled for a second, then managed to grip it, trying to mask her awkwardness with a quick shrug. “At least it’s not the naginata,” she muttered under her breath.

“You’ll need something lighter today. Dodging’s the name of the game,” Elise said, her eyes sharp and focused. “You’ve learned how to swing a weapon, but now you need to learn how to avoid getting hit.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Seems important. You know, in the ‘not dying’ department.”

Elise didn’t bother to respond, already slipping into a fighting stance. “If you can’t dodge or evade, you won’t last long out here. And trust me, out here, the Wilds won’t go easy on you.”

Oh great, no pressure, Claire thought, tightening her grip on the stick. She tried to mimic Elise’s stance, her legs feeling awkward and stiff. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” she muttered, trying to psyche herself up. “How hard can it be to dodge a few hits?”

Before she could fully prepare, Elise moved—fast. A low swing aimed at Claire’s legs, the wooden stick slicing through the air. Claire barely managed to jump back, her heart leaping into her throat as the stick passed just inches from her knees.

“That was close!” Claire yelped, eyes wide.

“Close doesn’t cut it,” Elise said, her tone flat but firm. “You need to be faster. Don’t just react—anticipate.”

“Right, yeah, anticipate,” Claire mumbled, her pulse racing. Sure, easy. Just dodge the person who could kill me with a toothpick. Totally fine.

Elise didn’t give her time to think. She swung again, this time aiming for Claire’s shoulder. Claire sidestepped awkwardly, her foot catching on a root as she barely avoided the hit.

“Better,” Elise remarked, though her tone was less encouraging and more clinical. “But you’re still hesitating.”

“Hesitating? I’m trying not to get smacked!” Claire shot back, feeling her frustration rise. But before she could say anything else, Elise lunged again, aiming for her midsection. Claire twisted out of the way just in time, her movements a bit smoother than before, though her heart was still pounding in her chest.

“Good!” Elise said, her tone sharpening. “You’re moving better now, but don’t slow down.”

Claire gritted her teeth, feeling the strain in her legs and arms. Don’t slow down, she says. Just avoid the literal human buzzsaw trying to take me down, she thought, her sarcasm keeping pace with her growing exhaustion.

Elise swung faster, this time combining low strikes with high ones, forcing Claire to duck, sidestep, and jump back repeatedly. Claire’s muscles burned, but she found herself reacting without thinking as much. Her feet moved instinctively, her body adjusting on its own.

“That’s more like it,” Elise said, stepping back as Claire dodged another strike. “You’re thinking less. Good.”

Claire blinked, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. “Wait, that’s good? I feel like I’m just… flailing!”

Elise smiled—a rare, small smile. “That’s the point. If you overthink in battle, you’re already dead. Instinct matters.”

“Great. So, what you’re saying is I should embrace my inner klutz?” Claire shot back, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

“Embrace survival. You’ll find your style eventually,” Elise replied, not missing a beat. She gave Claire a nod. “Tomorrow, we’ll start working on evasion and using the terrain to your advantage. But for now, take a breather.”

Claire’s legs felt like jelly, and she dropped to the ground, leaning against a nearby tree. “I feel like I’ve been dodging for hours,” she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Harold, who had been lounging nearby and observing with a grin on his face, sauntered over. “Well, look at you, dodging like a pro,” he said, tossing her a waterskin.

Claire snorted, taking the waterskin and gulping down the cool liquid. “Pro might be a stretch,” she said with a tired grin. “But hey, at least I didn’t trip this time.”

“Small victories,” Harold said with a laugh.

Elise stretched, her eyes scanning the treeline out of habit. “Take five, then we’ll move on to the next part.”

The sun had climbed higher into the sky, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor as Claire and Elise continued their training. Claire’s muscles burned from the constant movement, her arms heavy from holding the wooden training stick.

She wiped the sweat from her brow, glancing at her naginata resting against a tree a few paces away. “You sure I’m ready for dodging and evasion today?” she panted, bracing the stick on the ground for a moment to catch her breath.

“Positive,” Elise said with a grin. “You don’t have the luxury of deciding when danger comes, and the Wilds won’t wait for you to be ready.”

Claire groaned but didn’t argue. She raised the stick again, adjusting her stance the way Elise had shown her.

“Focus on your feet,” Elise instructed. “It’s not about brute strength right now. You need to stay light, keep moving. The faster you are, the harder you’ll be to hit.”

Harold, who had been lounging nearby, snickered. “In other words, try not to trip over yourself.”

Claire shot him a mock glare. “I’ll remember that when you’re next in the line of fire.”

She swung the stick half-heartedly at Elise, who deftly dodged, stepping to the side with ease. Claire stumbled slightly, catching herself before she completely lost balance.

“Watch your footing,” Elise said, her tone sharp but not unkind. “You need to anticipate—don’t just react. Keep your weight balanced, and don’t overcommit to a strike.”

“I know,” Claire muttered, adjusting her grip. She tried again, this time feinting left before pivoting right. Elise moved to intercept, but Claire managed to catch her off guard, forcing her to parry the blow.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Elise raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Better.”

Before Claire could bask in the small victory, a rustling sound came from the bushes nearby. It was faint at first, like the wind shifting through the trees, but then it grew louder, more deliberate.

Claire lowered her stick, her heart skipping a beat. “Did you hear that?”

Elise stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the treeline. “Stay close,” she ordered, her voice dropping to a whisper. She reached for her real blade, her grip tightening on the hilt.

Harold had already stood up, his usual relaxed demeanor gone. “Sounds like something’s moving,” he muttered, his eyes darting toward the dense underbrush. “But it doesn’t sound big.”

Claire’s pulse quickened as the rustling grew louder, the bushes shaking as something—or several somethings—moved through them. Her hands tightened around the stick, her body tensing.

Then, the first one appeared. A small, sharp-featured creature darted out from the bushes, its body covered in bristling thorns. It was no larger than a dog, but its sharp claws and glowing eyes told Claire this wasn’t a harmless animal.

“Elise?” Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper.

More creatures followed, their thorn-covered bodies moving with unnerving speed, surrounding the clearing in a matter of moments. Their movements were quick, twitchy, like they were waiting for a signal to attack.

“Thornlings,” Elise muttered under her breath, her blade now drawn and ready. “Stay alert. These things are dangerous in packs.”

Harold unslung his weapon, a short sword that gleamed in the sunlight. “How many do you think there are?” he asked, his voice tight with tension.

Elise’s eyes darted between the creatures, her stance shifting into a defensive position. “Enough to make this ugly if we’re not careful.”

Claire swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She had trained for this, but now, standing in front of real enemies, all the lessons seemed to vanish from her mind. Her body felt heavy with fear, her muscles tense and unresponsive.

One of the thornlings hissed, its beady eyes locking onto Claire. It crouched low, its body coiling like a spring.

“Elise?” Claire’s voice trembled as the creature moved closer, its thorns bristling.

“Stay calm,” Elise instructed, her voice steady. “Keep your weapon up. Don’t let them surround you.”

The thornling lunged.

The thornling shot toward Claire with alarming speed, its claws extended and ready to strike. Time seemed to slow as it closed the distance between them, and Claire felt her heart skip a beat, panic momentarily freezing her in place.

“Move!” Elise’s voice cut through the fog of fear like a sharp blade.

Instinct kicked in, and Claire shifted her weight, stumbling to the side as the creature’s claws narrowly missed her. She swung the training stick out of desperation, managing to clip the thornling’s side. It wasn’t enough to do any real damage, but it knocked the creature off balance for a split second.

Another hiss came from the treeline. Two more thornlings emerged, circling around Harold and Elise. The small creatures moved like a pack, their movements coordinated and unsettlingly fast.

Elise stepped forward, her blade gleaming in the sunlight as she slashed at one of the creatures. The thornling leaped back, avoiding the worst of the blow, but not before Elise’s blade caught its leg. The creature let out a shrill cry, retreating a few steps before glaring at her, eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

“Claire, stay behind me!” Harold shouted, his voice uncharacteristically tense. He swung his sword in a wide arc, trying to keep the creatures at bay. One of the thornlings darted forward, but Harold managed to meet it with a well-timed strike, cutting into its side. Black ichor splattered onto the ground as the creature shrieked, skittering backward.

Claire’s grip tightened on the stick, her pulse racing. She glanced at her naginata, lying just a few paces away. She could reach it if she moved fast enough.

She didn’t have time to think. Another thornling lunged at her from the side, its claws extended. Claire dropped into a crouch, barely dodging its strike, and swung the stick upward, catching the creature under its chin. The force sent it tumbling backward, its body hitting the ground with a thud.

“I need my weapon!” Claire shouted, her eyes darting to the naginata.

“Go!” Elise barked, fending off another thornling with a quick slash of her blade. “We’ll cover you!”

Claire took a deep breath and darted toward her naginata, the adrenaline in her veins pushing her forward. The moment her hand closed around the familiar grip, something clicked. The weight of the weapon felt reassuring in her hands, grounding her in the chaos.

With renewed focus, Claire turned to face the thornlings. One of the creatures, emboldened by her brief moment of distraction, charged at her. This time, she was ready. She sidestepped its attack, spinning the naginata in a quick, fluid motion before driving the blade into the creature’s side.

The thornling let out a high-pitched scream, black ichor spilling from the wound as it thrashed in its death throes. Claire pulled the blade free, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts, but a strange sense of exhilaration filled her. She’d actually done it.

“Not bad,” Elise called over, a hint of approval in her voice as she dispatched another thornling with a clean strike to the neck.

Harold, meanwhile, was holding his own, though it was clear he wasn’t as skilled with his weapon as Elise. He managed to land a few solid blows on the thornlings, but he was panting heavily, clearly struggling to keep up with the creatures’ relentless speed.

But just as it seemed like they were gaining the upper hand, a low, guttural growl echoed through the clearing. The sound sent a chill down Claire’s spine, and the thornlings froze, their attention shifting toward the source of the noise.

Claire’s blood ran cold as she saw it. A hulking figure emerged from the treeline, its dark fur bristling, its eyes glowing faintly in the shadows. It was massive—easily three times the size of the thornlings—with long, muscular limbs and claws that glinted in the light.

“Elise…” Claire’s voice was barely above a whisper, her hands tightening around her naginata.

Elise’s eyes widened as the creature stepped into the clearing. “We need to move,” she said sharply. “Now.”

The thornlings hissed and chittered, but they didn’t attack. Instead, they began to spread out, slowly driving the trio toward the edge of the clearing—toward the monstrous creature that waited in the shadows.

“Run!” Elise barked, her voice cutting through the rising tension. “We can’t fight all of them at once!”

Claire didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted toward the trees, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran. Harold was right behind her, his breaths ragged and panicked. Elise brought up the rear, her blade flashing as she deflected a thornling that got too close.

As they fled through the forest, Claire’s mind raced. The thornlings had been bad enough, but whatever that thing was—the hulking creature stalking them now—it was something else entirely. Something worse.

They couldn’t outrun it forever.

The undergrowth whipped past as they sprinted through the forest, branches and thorns snagging at their clothes. The monstrous creature’s growl echoed behind them, sending a fresh wave of fear through Claire’s already racing heart.

The thornlings were relentless, darting in and out of the shadows, trying to herd them back toward the hulking creature. Elise cursed under her breath, her eyes darting around, calculating the best way out.

“We can’t keep running like this!” Claire panted, her legs burning as the weight of fear and fatigue threatened to slow her down. “They’re pushing us toward it!”

Elise glanced behind them, her face set in grim determination. “I’ll create a break in their line. You two—keep moving. I’ll catch up.”

Claire’s breath hitched. “What? No! We can’t just leave you—”

“Go!” Elise barked, her voice sharp with authority. “I’ll be right behind you. Don’t argue, just run!”

Before Claire could protest, Elise spun on her heel and sprinted directly toward a cluster of thornlings, her blade gleaming in the low light. With a powerful swing, she slashed through the nearest creature, its sharp cry cutting through the air as it collapsed.

Claire hesitated for a heartbeat, but Harold was already grabbing her arm, tugging her forward. “She knows what she’s doing. We need to move!” His voice was firm, and there was no time to argue.

Claire’s stomach twisted, but she let Harold pull her along. “She’ll catch up,” Harold said again, though Claire could hear the edge of worry in his voice. He didn’t slow down, his eyes scanning the trees ahead.

They sprinted through the gap Elise had created, dodging between trees and leaping over roots as they plunged deeper into the forest. The thornlings didn’t chase them immediately, but that only made the growing tension worse.

“We can’t stop yet,” Harold muttered, his hand still tight around Claire’s wrist as they kept moving. “We have to get further away before they regroup.”

“What if Elise—” Claire started, her chest heaving as they ran.

“She’ll catch up,” Harold said, more forcefully this time, though his jaw was clenched tight. “She’s tougher than anything those thornlings can throw at her.”

But even as they ran, Claire couldn’t shake the gnawing fear in her gut. Elise wasn’t invincible, and the thought of being separated like this—it was too much. The thornlings might have been weaker in small numbers, but if they regrouped—or if the creature caught up with them first…

“We need somewhere to hide,” Harold said, his voice grim but steady. “If we can find some cover, we can hold out until Elise catches up.”

Claire nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Like what? A cave or something?”

“There are caves nearby,” Harold said, tugging her forward through a narrow path between the trees. “Dvergar sometimes use them as outposts. It’s our best chance.”

A cave. A defensible position. It was their best shot, and Claire clung to that glimmer of hope. She just had to trust that Elise would make it back to them in one piece. She has to.

The sharp sounds of Elise’s sword cutting through thornlings filled the air behind them, but Harold didn’t slow down. His grip on Claire’s wrist was firm, pulling her along as they weaved through the thick underbrush. The forest around them felt like a dark labyrinth, the tangled roots and branches slowing their escape.

“Keep moving!” Harold urged, his breath ragged, his eyes darting between the trees ahead. He didn’t look back—not at Claire, and not at the thornlings.

Claire stumbled behind him, every step sending pain shooting through her side where the bandages still held. Her lungs burned, and her legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to keep up. “What… about Elise?” she gasped, her breath hitching.

“She’ll find us!” Harold replied, his voice tense. “But we’ve got to stay ahead. If those things catch us…” His words trailed off, but the warning was clear.

Up ahead, the dense forest began to thin, the trees giving way to jagged rocks. Claire squinted, trying to make sense of the terrain as they reached a steep drop. A rocky ravine stretched out below them, its sides lined with crumbling ledges and jagged outcrops.

“Down here,” Harold said, his voice strained as he scrambled down the ravine’s edge. He moved with urgency, guiding Claire down with him. “We can take cover in the caves.”

Claire followed, her hands gripping at loose rocks as she carefully descended the steep slope. The terrain was uneven, and more than once she felt her feet slip beneath her. Her heart hammered in her chest, the cries of the thornlings still echoing faintly in the distance. They couldn’t be far behind.

Once they reached the bottom, Harold led her toward a narrow opening in the rock wall. It wasn’t much of a cave, but it would have to do. Claire collapsed against the rocky surface, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Harold crouched beside her, his face grim as he looked back up the ravine. “Elise will find us,” he said, though Claire could hear the doubt in his voice. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Claire swallowed hard, her throat dry. “And… the thornlings?”

“They won’t risk the climb,” Harold said, though his gaze never left the ridge above them. “We’re safe for now.”

Above the ravine, the sounds of battle still echoed faintly. Elise fought with a precision that came from years of experience, her sword slicing clean through the thornlings as they pressed forward in waves. Their jagged claws and thorned bodies tried to overwhelm her, but she moved like water—flowing around each strike, parrying their blows with practiced ease.

Her breath came in steady, controlled bursts as she focused on creating a break in their ranks. Each step was calculated, her movements forcing the creatures to spread out, to overcommit. She knew Harold and Claire needed time to escape, and it was her job to give it to them.

With a powerful sweep of her sword, Elise struck down two thornlings at once, their bodies collapsing into the dirt with a sickening thud. But for every one she felled, more seemed to appear from the shadows of the forest. The thornlings hissed and chittered, their eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as they encircled her.

Elise’s gaze flicked briefly to the path where Harold and Claire had disappeared. Good. They’ve made it far enough.

A low growl rumbled from behind the thornlings, and Elise’s heart skipped a beat. She turned her head just enough to catch sight of it—the hulking figure of the creature driving the thornlings, its massive form now looming at the edge of the forest. Its eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence as it watched the battle unfold, its claws flexing in anticipation.

“Damn,” Elise muttered under her breath, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword. The thornlings were bad enough, but the presence of this creature meant it wasn’t a random encounter—it was a hunt.

The thornlings, emboldened by the presence of their master, surged forward again, their numbers overwhelming. Elise gritted her teeth, parrying the first strike, but the force of it sent her staggering back a step.

She needed to retreat. Now.

With one last, calculated swing, she cut through the nearest thornling, using the momentum to spin away from the remaining attackers. Her body moved with practiced agility as she dashed toward the ravine, the thornlings hissing in frustration as they scrambled to follow.

Elise glanced over her shoulder, her heart pounding in her chest. The creature hadn’t moved—it simply watched, waiting. She narrowed her eyes. It knows. It’s playing a longer game.

As she reached the ravine, she quickly scanned the area below. Harold and Claire had already made it to safety, taking cover in one of the caves. Elise allowed herself a brief sigh of relief.

Then, without a second thought, she leapt down into the ravine, landing in a crouch. The thornlings hesitated at the edge, unwilling to pursue her down the steep incline. Elise gave a grim smile, wiping the blood from her blade before heading toward the cave where Harold and Claire waited.

The cool dampness of the cave was a stark contrast to the frantic heat of the chase, and Claire’s breath slowed as she pressed herself against the rock wall. Her body was trembling, not just from the exertion but from the lingering adrenaline coursing through her veins. Harold crouched beside her, one hand gripping the hilt of his weapon, his eyes fixed on the narrow cave entrance.

“I think… I think we’re safe,” Claire whispered, trying to convince herself as much as him.

Harold nodded, though he didn’t relax his guard. “For now.”

The sounds of the thornlings were distant, their hissing and chittering barely audible over the wind whistling through the ravine. But Claire could still feel them—just out of sight, waiting. She shuddered, her hand reflexively going to her ribs, the tight bandages a painful reminder of how close they’d come to being overwhelmed.

“What about Elise?” Claire asked, her voice small in the dark space.

“She’ll make it,” Harold said, his voice tense but certain. “Elise knows what she’s doing. She’s probably dealt with worse.”

Despite his words, there was tension in his voice. He knew just as well as Claire did that Elise was still out there, and the creatures weren’t giving up easily.

Minutes ticked by in silence, broken only by the distant rustling of thornlings as they moved about on the ridge above. Claire tried to steady her breathing, the darkness of the cave pressing in on her. Every shadow seemed to shift and crawl, her mind still replaying the brief glimpse of the hulking creature that had driven the thornlings toward them.

Her thoughts drifted back to that night, the one that felt like a lifetime ago now. The night she’d faced that creature for the first time—alone in the early hours, the sharp claws tearing through the dark, the oppressive fear that had gripped her as she barely escaped with her life. The dawn after, bloodied and exhausted, was when Harold and Elise had found her. She hadn’t even known what had attacked her then. But now…

She turned toward Harold, her voice shaky. “That thing up there—it’s the same one. The one that attacked me the night before you found me.”

Harold’s eyes widened, his grip tightening around his weapon. “Wait… that was what attacked you? That thing?”

Claire nodded slowly, the weight of the memory making her stomach churn. “I didn’t know what it was at the time… but I’m sure of it now. It’s been hunting me.”

Harold stared at her, his expression shifting between disbelief and concern. “You survived that? Alone?”

Claire nodded again, her throat tightening. “Barely.”

Before Harold could respond, the crunch of gravel echoed from the mouth of the cave. Harold’s grip shifted to his sword hilt, but the familiar shadow that stepped into view made him exhale in relief. “Elise.”

Elise appeared, blood streaking her cheek and clothes, but otherwise moving with her usual confidence. She crouched beside them, her eyes sweeping the cave and checking for injuries. “They won’t follow us down here, at least not in large numbers,” she muttered. “But we can’t stay long.”

“Elise…” Claire’s voice was shaky, her gaze meeting hers. “That thing… the creature up there? It’s the one that attacked me before. The day you and Harold found me.”

Elise’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. “The same one?”

Claire nodded, swallowing hard. “It was dark, but I’m sure of it now. It’s been hunting me since that night.”

Elise’s face grew more serious, her eyes locking onto Claire’s. “You survived an attack from that?” Her voice was low, but the disbelief was unmistakable. “And you’re still standing?”

Harold shook his head, glancing between Claire and the mouth of the cave. “I thought it was just some random creature that caught you off guard… but that? No wonder you looked half-dead when we found you.”

Claire shivered at the memory. “I thought I was dead. I don’t know how I got away.”

Elise let out a low breath, her gaze flicking back to the entrance. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

There was a long pause, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

“We need to go deeper,” Harold said finally, his voice quieter now. “If we keep moving, we might find a way out through the caves. Safer than going back up.”

Elise nodded, her usual confidence tempered by a new wariness. “Agreed. We can’t risk staying here.”

With a steadying breath, Claire nodded. “Lead the way.”