Night Hunt

The silence of the night was shattered by the distant echo of a guttural roar, low and menacing. Ezra paused mid-step, his sharp lavender eyes narrowing as he turned his head toward the source of the sound. The weight of his pack pressed against his shoulder as a faint chill crawled up his spine.

They had left the abandoned building hours ago, ensuring to bury the enraged mother creature alongside its skinned offspring—a small mercy, courtesy of Shirley. "Even monsters deserve a little respect, even if 'only' the head is left for some reason," he'd grumbled while digging the graves.

Afterward, they'd taken a detour, scouring the desolate landscape for any signs of survivors.

The roar came again, closer this time, reverberating through the night air. Ezra tightened his grip on the strap of his pack, his jaw setting as unease prickled at the edges of his mind.

"That doesn't sound friendly," he said quietly, his voice steady but lacking its usual playful edge. "Think it's hunting or just hungry?"

Shirley shot him a sharp glance, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade. "This isn't the time for commentary, Ezra. Stay sharp."

Ezra gave a curt nod, his usual smirk absent.

His gaze turned back to the treeline ahead, where the faint rustle of disturbed undergrowth followed the roar. Every snap of a branch felt like a drumbeat in his chest.

"Big… whatever it is," Ezra murmured, eyes scanning the dark silhouettes of the trees.

"It's heavy."

"Stay close," Shirley said, his voice low, each syllable precise. His steel-gray eyes flickered with a cold focus that Ezra had grown to recognize—the look of a man prepared for battle.

The rustling grew louder, branches snapping under the weight of something large. The air carried a sharp, metallic tang—iron, blood. Shirley raised his blade slightly, the faint moonlight glinting off the edge.

Ezra adjusted his stance, his knees bending slightly, muscles coiling like a spring. He shifted his weight forward, ready to move at a moment's notice. His fingers hovered near the hilt of his dagger, breath steady despite the tight knot in his stomach.

The creature burst through the treeline with a force that shook the ground beneath them. It was massive, towering over them with skeletal limbs covered in mottled, scaly skin.

Jagged horns jutted from its skull like a broken crown, and two glowing yellow eyes locked onto them with cold, predatory intent. Its claws flexed, each talon gleaming like polished steel in the moonlight.

Ezra's breath hitched, but he held his ground. His lavender eyes flickered across the creature, scanning for weaknesses—soft spots, exposed joints, anything.

Shirley stepped forward, blade raised, his voice firm. "Stay to its flank. Watch the claws and the tail. Don't overextend."

Ezra gave a sharp nod, all traces of his usual bravado gone. "Got it."

The beast snarled, lowering itself into a predatory stance, muscles bunching beneath its thick hide. Ezra's shoulders tensed, his mind racing through the lessons Shirley had drilled into him.

The creature lunged.

Shirley met it head-on, his blade flashing in the moonlight as he parried its claws with practiced precision. Sparks erupted as steel met talon, and Shirley was forced back a step, his boots grinding against the frost-covered earth.

Ezra moved swiftly to the creature's side, circling wide as he kept his eyes on both the beast and Shirley's movements. His dagger glinted as he closed in, spotting the joints at the creature's hind limbs. He darted forward and slashed, aiming for the exposed sinew beneath the scales.

The blade bit into flesh, but not deeply enough. The creature's hide was thicker than he anticipated. It snarled, its barbed tail whipping around with startling speed.

"Ezra, move!" Shirley barked.

Ezra threw himself backward, the tail slicing just inches from his face as it smashed into the ground where he'd stood moments ago. Splinters of wood and shards of stone exploded into the air.

His heart hammered in his chest as he regained his footing, sweat slicking his palms. But he forced himself to refocus, eyes sharp and steady.

'Stay calm. Watch for the openings.'

Shirley advanced again, his blade slicing in clean, precise arcs as he kept the creature's attention on him. Ezra saw his chance—while the beast was distracted, its flank was exposed.

He lunged again, his dagger striking at the vulnerable joint. This time, it pierced deeper, drawing a spray of black ichor. The beast let out a guttural roar, its head snapping toward Ezra with terrifying speed.

Ezra ducked under a wide claw swipe, rolling to the side before scrambling back to his feet. His breathing was sharp, controlled, his every sense focused on the fight. The creature's attention swung back and forth between him and Shirley, its movements growing more erratic.

"Keep it unbalanced!" Shirley shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Ezra didn't reply; he was already moving. He darted to the creature's other side, forcing it to shift its weight again. Each step felt calculated, every breath measured as he waited for the next opening.

The beast lunged at Shirley again, claws outstretched. Shirley braced himself, parrying one claw while narrowly sidestepping the other. Ezra's eyes locked onto the same weak spot he'd struck earlier—the joint was damaged now, ichor dripping steadily.

With a burst of speed, Ezra sprinted forward, dagger raised. He drove the blade into the exposed joint with all his strength, twisting the blade as he did. The creature shrieked in agony, its limb buckling under its own weight.

Ezra staggered back, breathless, his chest heaving. But the creature wasn't finished—it lashed out with its tail in a desperate attempt to hit anything nearby.

"Ezra!" Shirley's voice was sharp.

Ezra jumped back, the tail missing him by a hair's breadth. He stumbled slightly, catching himself with one hand on the ground before rising again, his dagger still clutched tightly in his other hand.

"Keep the pressure on!" Shirley ordered, advancing with swift, calculated strikes.

Ezra nodded, his focus razor-sharp.

Together, they moved in tandem—Shirley pressing from the front with relentless precision, Ezra striking from the sides whenever an opening appeared.

The beast was slowing now, its movements growing sluggish as its wounds took their toll. Ichor pooled beneath it, steaming in the cold night air.

"Now!" Shirley barked.

Ezra didn't hesitate. He lunged one final time, driving his dagger toward the creature's exposed neck. But just as the blade was about to bite into its vulnerable flesh, the beast jerked its head to the side with startling speed. Ezra's dagger missed its mark, skimming across tough, scaly hide instead of slicing through the softer joint.

The sudden momentum threw Ezra off balance, and he stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the creature's massive claws. The beast snarled, its yellow eyes blazing with renewed fury, and it swung its head back toward him.

"Damn it!" Ezra hissed, scrambling backward, his boots slipping slightly on the ichor-slick ground.

"Keep moving!" Shirley barked, his voice sharp and commanding. He surged forward, his blade slicing through the creature's shoulder, drawing a fresh spray of black ichor.