Fog of the Feral Mind

The Enchanted Woods pulsed with a sinister rhythm, their gnarled oaks twisting tighter as mist coiled like a living shroud. Gorrick and Lissey stumbled through the undergrowth, the lake's black waters—and Alice's abduction—fading into the haze behind them. The Glow Juice's golden sheen flickered on their forms, dimming with each step, its magic unraveling like a threadbare cloak. Lissey's copper pendant still pulsed faintly, tugging toward Walenciusz's distant campfire, but her emerald eyes clouded, focus slipping.

"Keep movin', cat!" Gorrick growled, troll claw dragging as he shoved a branch aside. His voice was gruff, but a tremor undercut it—something was off. "We're after… uh… that gray tom, right? With my sword?" He scratched his scruffy beard, brow furrowing as the Glow Juice's light faded from his bulk.

Lissey's tail lashed, her husky snarl faltering. "Yeah… Walen—somethin'. Smelled smoke…" She clutched her glass dagger, pendant swinging as she glanced around, whiskers twitching. "Why're we here again? This place—my head's all muddled!" The golden glow snuffed out from her tortoiseshell fur, and with it, the woods' oppressive hum grew louder, seeping into their minds like damp rot.

Gorrick blinked, shaking his head like a wet dog. "Wait—who're you? Some sneaky beast?" His grip tightened on the troll claw, eyes narrowing at Lissey. Memories of demons, dragons, and Alice's fiery quips dissolved into a fog—he saw only a hybrid cat, claws glinting, a threat in the dark.

Lissey bristled, pendant dimming to a dull gleam. "Me? You're the hulking thug stinkin' up my woods!" Her voice sharpened, but confusion laced it—Walenciusz, Alice, their quest—all gone, replaced by instinct and a growing snarl. "Back off, or I'll shred ya!" The last of the Glow Juice's light winked out, and with it, their purpose vanished, leaving only feral suspicion.

The woods seemed to grin, mist curling tighter as if feeding on their unraveling minds. Gorrick scratched his arm, frowning at faint claw marks—demon scars? He couldn't recall. "You lookin' to fight, furball? I don't trust ya!" Lissey's ears flattened, her stance dropping low. "Trust? I don't even know ya, you big ox—stay outta my turf!"

Words gave way to violence like a spark to dry tinder. Lissey pounced, glass dagger slashing—Gorrick roared, swinging the troll claw—it cracked against her blade, sparks flying as she twisted midair, claws raking his shoulder. Blood bloomed, red against his patched cloak, and he bellowed, "You'll pay for that, beast!" He lunged, claw stabbing for her flank—she dodged, but the jagged tip grazed her thigh, green blood oozing as she yowled.

"Filthy brute!" Lissey spat, pendant swinging wildly as she leapt again, claws slashing his chest—fabric tore, skin split, and Gorrick stumbled back, fury blazing. "Sneaky rat!" he roared, hurling the troll claw—it missed, embedding in an oak with a thunk, but he charged, fists swinging. One caught her jaw, snapping her head back—she retaliated, glass dagger slicing his forearm, a crimson arc splattering the moss.

They clashed in a whirlwind of blood and spite—Lissey's claws tore at Gorrick's legs, shredding his trousers as he grunted, snatching a fallen branch to jab at her ribs. She hissed, rolling away, but not before his boot stomped her tail—crunch!—and she screeched, dagger slashing blindly, nicking his thigh. Gorrick seized her by the scruff, hurling her into a tree—she hit with a thud, bouncing back with a feral snarl, claws slashing his face, a shallow cut across his cheek.

Panting, bleeding, they circled—Gorrick's fists dripped red, Lissey's fur matted with green and crimson, her glass dagger chipped but deadly. "I'll gut ya!" he roared, lunging—she ducked, raking his back, claws sinking deep as he howled, spinning to grab her arm. He twisted it—crack!—she yelped, dropping the dagger, but her free claws slashed his neck, a shallow gash spurting blood.

High above, perched on a twisted oak's gnarled branch, a cloaked figure watched, violet flames crackling along her staff. Her lips curled, eyes glinting with dark amusement—the same sorceress who'd stirred in the vale after Percival's fall at the mill. "It sure gets interesting now," she murmured, voice a silken rasp as she leaned forward, staff pulsing with arcane light.

Gorrick and Lissey staggered, breaths ragged, no longer allies, no longer anything but foes in a fog of lost minds. The pendant hung limp, its glow snuffed out—Walenciusz, Alice, the dragon—all erased. Only the fight remained.