Where Even Warriors Fear

"Come on, come on, come on," Femi muttered between ragged breaths, his voice a frantic whisper lost in the howling wind. The forest around him was a smeared nightmare, trees bent into grotesque shapes by the snow, their branches clawing at him like skeletal fingers as he sprinted past. Everything blurred together like a twisted coloring book of whites, greys, and the occasional sickly purple of frostbitten leaves. His lungs burned, each breath a knife dragged through his ribs, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the primal drumbeat in his skull. Run. Run or die.

He ran like he'd never run before, legs pumping, claws scrabbling against the frozen earth. His paws normally deft and silent, kicked up sprays of snow as he vaulted over gnarled roots and ducked under low-hanging branches. The cold air seared his throat, but he couldn't stop. "I gotta get out, I gotta get out," he chanted, the words a desperate mantra.

How had it come to this? Just hours ago, he'd been picking mushrooms, marveling at their candy-like hue. Now he was fleeing for his life, his whiskers twitching wildly, his ears pinned flat against his skull. The scent of blood and pine needles clung to his fur, a nauseating reminder of what he'd left behind.

"No one told me there'd be a monster like that," he gasped, his mind spiraling. "What was I supposed to do? Fight? I had no choice but to run!" His breath hitched, his chest heaving. The guilt was a living thing, gnawing at his gut, but survival drowned it out.

Then his foot caught. A root, a rock, maybe just fate. He stumbled, crashing face-first into the snow. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and for a heartbeat, he lay there, dazed, the world spinning.

"Damn village people!" he spat, scrambling to rise. His muscles screamed in protest, his body aching from the cold and the relentless sprint. And then he heard it.

RAHHH!

The roar split the forest like thunder. Femi froze, his blood turning to ice. Slowly, agonizingly, he twisted to look behind him.

Nothing. Just trees. But the silence was worse.

"I had to leave them," he whispered, his voice breaking. "What could I do against that?"

RAHHH!

"Come on, Femi, don't stop running!" He forced himself up, his legs trembling. "You have to get out of here!"

And then his mind betrayed him, dragging him back to the morning to the moment everything had gone wrong.

---

"War Chief will be happy when we met up! Don't you agree, Varga?" Ova said while, puffing out his chest like a preening bird. Femi stifled a snort. The young Krag looked ridiculous, like a child begging for sweets.

It had been a week since their scouting party had split from the main Krag band. Now, they trekked through the woods, the skeletal trees of their old camp replaced by towering pines draped in snow. The air was milder here, the bite of winter less cruel. According to Varga, they were nearing the warmer fringes of the north, close to a human city. Femi didn't ask why. He already had a suspicion, that it might be for trade, probably, for the spoils from that ambushed caravan.

For once, luck seemed on his side. Supplies still held, the cold was bearable, and Femi's fear of freezing to death had dulled to a background hum. Then he spotted them, a cluster of purple mushrooms, vibrant as crushed violets, peeking through the snow.

He paused, letting the group march ahead. No one glanced back.

Femi sighed. A week together, and the Krags still treated him like a stray, tolerated, but not trusted. It didn't matter. Survival first. Friends later. He crouched, eyeing the mushrooms. Their color screamed poison, but they looked so much like the chewy candies people sold at market squares back home. His stomach growled.

Then the wind shifted.

A breeze rustled the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth and something else. Something wrong.

Instinct seized him. His heart hammered, his pulse a deafening drum in his ears. Every muscle locked, screaming at him to run. But he forced himself still, scanning the trees. Nothing.

Yet.

He hurried forward, weaving through the Krags until he reached Varga. She was up front, listening to Ova's blathering with a frown. Femi's movements were jerky, his fur bristling.

Varga noticed immediately. Her brow furrowed.

"I smell something," Femi whispered, his voice tight. "Don't know what, but my whole body's screaming it's dangerous. Coming from there." He jerked his snout toward the eastern thicket. "And it's too quiet."

Varga's eyes narrowed. Then, without a word, she muttered something under her breath a low, guttural phrase that made Femi's whiskers twitch.

Her eyes ignited.

A sickly green glow pulsed in her irises, like embers stirred to life. Femi recoiled. What in the Father's name---?

After a tense silence, she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut.

"What is it?" Ova demanded, catching the shift in mood.

"We're being hunted," Varga said, her voice hollow.

Ova scoffed, glaring at Femi. "Did the ratling tell you that?" He spat the word like an insult. "You know better than to trust a cowardly weakling. They jump at their own shadows!"

Varga's growl cut through the air. "Then it's good that it's my place to question, not yours."

Ova snarled, but before he could retort, Osaka, an older Krag with streaks of grey in his hair, stepped between them.

"Enough. Varga leads this party by the War Chief's word. Unless you challenge his decision, you follow."

Ova's glare could've melted steel, but he backed down. His eyes, though, promised Femi pain later.

Varga exhaled sharply. "We'll prepare. Make ourselves look like more trouble than we're worth. Might make it back off."

Osaka nodded. "Trick is doing it without tipping our hand."

What followed was a quiet, deadly ballet.

Varga began issuing orders, her voice low but firm. Krags shifted positions, forming small units, their hands hovering near weapons. Femi watched, impressed despite himself. These towering green warriors moved like shadows silent, precise.

Then the screaming started.

Femi whirled just in time to see the bushes explode.

A grey blur slammed into the center of the line, sending Krags flying like used newspapers. Snow, splintered wood, and blood sprayed the air.

The monster uncoiled from its lunge, and Femi's breath vanished.

It was a nightmare given flesh.

Hunched over, the monster loomed two or three feet above the few Krags still standing near it. Its arms were grotesquely long, stretching from its broad, hunched shoulders all the way to the ground like some nightmare ape. Grey skin strained over heavy muscles as it spun in a frenzy, lashing out with clawed fists that shattered bone and sent bodies flying.

Its head was vaguely ape-like but twisted into something monstrous, a thick, lizard-like snout jutted forward, and a filthy mane of black hair spilled from its skull down its back.

Then it roared.

Its maw split open, revealing rows of jagged yellow teeth and two massive, blade-like fangs, the kind butchers used to slice suya meat, curving past its jaw. They glistened with saliva and blood.

But worse than its size, worse than its strength, was its speed.

It moved in jerking, unnatural bursts, too fast to track. One second it was here, the next...

A Krag died.

They barely had time to gasp before they were airborne. One managed to grab a weapon then the beast shrieked, a sound of wild, almost joyful fury, and snatched up a female Krag in its claws.

Femi's gut clenched as it yanked her close, those suya-knife fangs flashing, then bit down. A wet crack split the air. The Krag's chest caved in, ribs and flesh collapsing into a gory mess as the monster wrenched its head sideways, shaking her like a cat with a rat.

The monster let out a mocking hiss, dripping with satisfaction, before lunging forward. It barreled through the bloodied Krags, its massive frame scattering them like broken toys. Then it charged straight toward Osaka.

Femi's throat tightened. The old grey-haired Krag barely had time to blink before those claws rose, poised to split him in half---

Thwip.

An arrow slammed into the beast's eye with terrifying precision.

"It's an Eri!" Varga shouted, her eyes blazing with emerald light.

Femi's breath caught. There was something else in her expression, something he'd never seen on her before. Fear.

"Father Lord," he whimpered. "Please tell me Amazon Varga isn't afraid."

The monster let out a deafening scream, a raw mix of pain and fury. Femi watched in horror as it clawed at its own eye, ripping it free. His stomach twisted this couldn't be happening. But then, the worst part came. The ruined socket pulsed, twitching as something new began to form. Slowly, sickeningly, the eye grew back, dark and glistening, until those pitch-black orbs were whole again.

"Well," Femi whispered, backing away. "We're all going to die today."