Reaching Safety

As dawn pierced through the trees, Muskrat stirred, his eyes snapping open as he pulled himself upright.

He shook Whiskey-Jack gently,

"We better get moving, in case the Rolling Head is still after us," Muskrat muttered, his voice tight with concern.

Whiskey-Jack groaned pushing himself to wake up, his mind clouded with confusion. Had it all been a nightmare? Was his mind playing tricks on him after yesterday's traumatic incident?

"Did that really happen, or was it just a bad dream?" Whiskey-Jack thought to himself, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the his tense feelings from yesterday.

Muskrat, already on his feet, was packing their gear. "Come on, let's go. We might have already lost too much time." Despite his brother's urgency, Whiskey-Jack hesitated. Something was wrong. Turning to look at the where he last saw the deer, he noticed a dark red trail of fresh blood that led in the same direction the deer had been sent flying.

"No! That couldn't have been real..." Whiskey-Jack gasped, his voice cracking as he recalled the events.

He had to blink hard a few times, hoping that the blood trail would vanish. But it remained, he swallowed hard, his mind racing.

"Let's just get out of here," Whiskey-Jack muttered, grabbing his pack and clenching his sword hard. The brothers set off, heading north, moving quickly to put distance between them and whatever horrors lurked behind.

The brother's were unaware to how much time had past, as they walked in silence. But as they dove deeper into the forest, a thin trail of smoke pierced the air rising above the treetops.

"Look! Someone's up there!" Muskrat exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the first sign of others. Without hesitation, he chased after the smoke.

"Wait, Muskrat!" Whiskey-Jack called after him, but it was too late. His brother had already sprinted ahead, leaving him behind.

Whiskey-Jack soon caught up, his heart pounding, nervous as to whether the stranger's are friendly. As they neared, a large structure loomed ahead, a house that seemed like a mountain compared to the small cabin they had grown up in.

"That house... it's huge!" Whiskey-Jack gasped, wide-eyed.

The smoke was thick now, rising from the top of a roaring fire. On the spit above it, a large chunk of meat sizzled, filling the air with the delicious aroma.

Suddenly, a booming voice came from behind them. "HEY! Who the hell are you?!"

Whiskey-Jack's hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword, ready to defend himself and his brother.