Hoya’s corpse remained standing for several heartbeats. His cheerful chittering cut off in a wet gurgle. By the time everyone turned toward him and understood what had happened, all hell had already broken loose. His corpse collapsed, marking the beginning of all-out bedlam.

Grabbing his rifle, Leo shifted and took aim. His crosshairs landed on the shimmering, shifting nothingness. Offering no quarter, Leo hammered out rounds. The rifle bucked rhythmically against his shoulder, each hateful belch sending death across the gully .

Thunder erupted from the muzzle, his will cast across the gulley. Rounds slammed into the shimmer.

With such a rough target hit zone, Leo trained on the eyes. Each time his crosshairs settled on the green orbs, the rifle roared. Blood splattered from each wound, showering the area in glowing purple ichor. He tracked the monster, giving it all the hell he possibly could, until he raised fire. The creature, having not slowed down, was now far too close to Selene and the remaining warriors for him to be any help against them.

The monster reared back on its hind legs and roared, an ear-piercing, hateful cry that shook the entire forest from there to the far-off cabins.

Half the wolfkin recoiled, dropping their weapons in hopes of saving their hearing by clamping down on their heads. Even Matra clutched desperately at her ears, screaming in agony.

Across the gully, only Selene stood her ground. SShe exploded forward, claws bared, as she roared in defiance.

With ease, she ducked and dodged around the monster's strikes, those shimmering wires arching around it like a twister. Her armor deflected most, but a few did ring her bell slightly, sounding akin to a can being forced through a trash disposal.

If she registered the hits, she did not show it at all. If anything, she sped up with each strike, forcing more mana into her muscles.

Like a barbarian of old tales, Selene raged, every instinct in her demanding she kill this creature and protect her family.

She collided with the beast, toppling it over. She and the monster became a whirlwind of claws, teeth, and blood. Quickly, the sight descended into pure madness with Selene ripping limbs from her opponent, while pure brutality burned in her breath.

The meager amount of blood Leo's bullets had sent showering was nothing compared to what she had done. With each severed limb, a firehose of ichor poured out gradually revealing the monster's true form. a long, twisted thing with too many joints and a lizard's silhouette stretched into something deeply wrong. Something that was infernally wrong as its myriad of tendril-like hairs spasmed in pure panic.

She besieged the monster, as the other wolfkin regained their senses and joined her with no hesitation. They took up the tools of their deadly trade and descended on the beast like a swarm of angry badgers.

They stabbed, jabbed, and carved into the abomination. Like the trained soldiers they were born to be, the wolfkin were ducking and weaving from what few striking limbs it had left.

A flicker near the cave entrance caught Leo's eye. It was not much at first, just another glimmer, like a sniper's glint. Still, after the first monster had used cloaking abilities, and Leo, having spent half a decade ingraining kill the other sniper fast into his soul, the Ranger instinctively shifted, flicked the giggle switch, and hosed the opening with full auto fire.

Just like the first, purplish blood oozed lightly from the wound, letting him see the enemy more easily. He leaned the weapon further, holding the last few rounds more on target now that he had a solid idea of where the fucker was.

He rode the lightning, each round finding purchase in the beast's scaled hide.

“Matra, give him hell, shoot the fucking cave!” Leo yelled as his bolt locked back, and he went through a perfect by-the-books emergency reload.

She did not fire. Sparing a glance, Leo sighed and returned to shooting within a heartbeat. Matra was wide-eyed and staring across the way. He did not need to ask what she was staring at. Like Selene, she was related to everyone across the way—Hoya would have been her cousin if Leo remembered their relationship correctly.

So long as she did not do anything stupid. Her freaking out right there was fine. Leo had not genuinely considered her a factor in his plan.

In short order, the wolf-kin had ripped the first monster limb from limb, suffering only a few injuries. Leo did not have to direct them to attack the second one. They spared a glance his way, then followed the most recent tracer as it lanced through the trees.

As before, they attacked it like Piranna, pulling the creature down with raw strength as they all stabbed it to death. Trusting them to kill that monster. Leo looked back at Matra while sliding a fresh magazine into his rifle.

Seeing Matra freezing like a possum once shit his the fan was expected. Leo, like so many of his brothers in arms, considered himself a professional soldier: a warrior, a master of the craft of indescribable violence.

Just as any professional in any environment, from the bluest of blues to the starchiest white-collar, Leo and his guild of pipe hitters not only practiced the profession; they read about it. A book he'd read years ago surfaced in his thoughts: On Killing.

The author argued that only a small percentage of soldiers actually fired their weapons in combat. Fewer still aimed to kill. All the rest froze up or hid. That Matra was part of the largest group was expected. Maybe with time, Leo could train her to respond as he was, but that was a consideration for other times.

For now, they had to move and keep up the pressure. That second invisible enemy had come from the cave; no doubt, there would be more.

“Come on,” Leo said, standing and patting Matra on the back. "We gotta keep 'em on the back foot."

She flinched hard, like his mere touch was a Taser. It was a good thing that Matra respected the rule of keeping the rifle's safety on. If she had kept it constantly off, like many Afghan tribal fighters, she would have stitched full auto hate right toward her sister and the others.

“What?” Matra asked, looking toward Leo but not quite at him.

“Let’s go. We have to go help the others.”

It took several moments for Matra’s mind to catch up to speed, to reconcile all the violence she had just witnessed within the last few minutes, but as soon as she was back in the here and now, she scrambled to her feet, almost falling off the rock they had set up on.

As quick as a cottonmouth, Leo grabbed Matra’s wrist and yanked her away from the edge. “Be careful.”

Matra blushed and looked up at Leo while unconsciously biting her lower lip. “Sorry...Leo.”

“It’s alright. Just try not to fall,” he replied, righting her and starting down the trail down the gulley.

They trailed one after the other down the switchback. From on high, they could somewhat see how the plants gradually died toward the cave, but from down here, they could truly see the horror of the demon's effects. All the plants were still wilting and rotting at the roots, but now up close, they could see the rotting insects and small animals.

Some looked mummified. Others appeared half-melted into the earth itself. Much like the flora's roots, the fauna was being eaten away by the vile energies crawling from the cave. Each had a black, mold-covered mummy look to it.

An errant thought crossed Leo’s mind. He wondered if that would happen to the demons they had killed, if they, too, would be consumed to feed this depraved power. He did not have to wait long. As they crested the top of the ridge, the demons' bodies came into view, and they were being consumed, both appearing to have been dead for weeks.

There was a fetid stench in the air, one leaking off the monsters. Whatever magic concealed them from sight must have also affected scent. There is no way a wolf-kin would not have been able to follow the odor. It was positively nose-curling, so bad that Leo would rather be standing by the burn pits on Bagram.

Across the way, Selene kept watch on the cave entrance while the rest of the wolfkin were tending to their wounds. Leo went over to Selene, as Matra moved over to Hoya’s corpse. The other wolf-kin had dragged it up from the gulley while they moved across.

Matra dropped to her knees and was frantically digging at the ground around the body. Everyone could see why. Much like the monsters, plants, and other animals, the demonic rot was crawling up his body and burrowing into the remnants of his decapitation with the most fervor.

The others shared an uncomfortable look, then looked back at Matra. The question was silent yet deafeningly loud. Can she hold it together?

The other wolfkin warriors went to tend to her. With them taking care of her well-being, Leo turned his attention to Selene.

He looked her up and down, taking in her shredded mithril armor and blood-soaked face. “You alright? You’re bleeding.”

“I will be. The second hunter thing cut my ear half off. But it is nothing Eli can’t fix when we get back,” Selene replied, wiggling her ears through her helmet, a deep tear split one ear nearly in half . “My armor...not as much.”

She ran her claws over her armor, half the plates dented in, the others looking like a piece of paper an angry kitten thought would make a fun scratching post.

“Is that even doing anything at this point?”

“If we fight more invisible enemies, no. But I don’t think we will.” Selene replied.

“Why is that?”

“After the second one died, I was able to pick up on the kid's scent. They went into the cave.” Selene cast her gaze toward the looming dark entrance.

“Well, let’s get everyone ready and get in there,” Leo replied, turning back toward the wolf-kin and nearly jumping out of his skin when he found Vinya no less than a breath away from him.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Vin, we went over this. I can’t hear like you. “Don’t do that,” Leo breathed heavily from surprise.

“Sorry about that, boss. I forgot. But I wanted to know what we should do about,” he kicked his head back over his armored shoulder toward Matra.

“Nothing. She signed up and is coming with us.”

“You sure? She doesn’t seem to be...adapting well. And you know she is a woman. Are we really sure she should be out here?”

From behind, Leo Selene coughed harshly into her paw and glared at her relative. He folded his ears and corrected himself. “You know what I mean, Selene, you ain’t like the other women from the pack. You are good at fighting, the others...not so much”

“You are forgiven. But I do see your point,” Selene sighed before looking to Leo for adjudication. “Are you sure we should bring her inside? She could just stay here, or go get back up.”

Leo paused and looked over to Matra, thinking hard about it. Yes, leaving her was the wise choice regarding the mission and the mission alone. But what about for her? She came here to prove something to herself; taking away the choice to come along was not his place. He might be acting as a commander here, but he held no genuine authority.

This was not the regiment where he could simply tell the heartbreakers it was time to take a city block over, and they would just jump in. Leo needed to use something that more than one of his old officers wanted him to learn. Tact.

“I will talk to her. See if she wants to keep going. If not, I will send her back to get reinforcement while the rest of us move in. If she wants to go, the plans have not changed.” Leo confirmed. “Vin, get the guys ready to enter the cave. We are going in asap, with or without Matra.”

“Come on, guys, rally on me,” Vinya yelled after nodding his confirmation.

The wolfkin passed Leo at the halfway point, each looking as worried as the last. Leo could not blame them; they were haggard, each covered in wounds and loosely tied bandages. Their first contact tore them a new one. Diving headlong into another fight right after being given such a thrashing was never an enjoyable premise. But they were soldiers doing what soldiers would do, suck it up and follow orders.

“So how’s the death of the fairytale going?” Leo asked Matra, crouching beside her and looking down as Hoya’s body was still being absorbed. She had given up on digging the rot away from the body at this point and instead kept her dirty paws on her thighs.

“Is it always this bad?” she looked up towards Leo, pleading desperation in her eyes. It was the same look Leo had seen on so many young soldiers after their first death. Not only the death of someone they knew and cared about, but the death of their innocence.

“No,” Leo replied, but did not allow Matra time to misinterpret his words as some bastion of hope. “Usually, it's worse. That we’re only using guns, claws, and swords makes it a lot less violent.”

“How could anything be worse than this?”

“Well, artillery, bombs dropped from jets, rockets, chain cannons, there are plenty of more brutal weapons. All of those make you past tense in a way that is hard to describe as anything other than red mist.” Leo replied. “Been on both ends of plenty of those tools enough times to tell you Hoya got lucky--- at least he died quickly.”

Matra paused and looked back toward the body, resting her hand on Hoya’s chest. “How do you keep doing this?”

Leo rested his hand atop her, gently squeezing it. “Yah know, it took me a long time to figure that out. But for me, I learned that I was able to do something, able to prevent the deaths of those I care about.”

“By killing others?”

“Yeah. I kill them to keep those I care about safe.” Leo nodded, standing while picking up Matra’s rifle. “So are you going to keep others safe? Or do you want to run? I won’t judge you either way.”

Matra looked at the weapon, staring at it like it would give her some answer. After a few moments, she muttered something to herself so silently that Leo could not hear. She looked up at Leo, a small ember of fury in her eyes. Without another word, Matra took the rifle.

“Let’s go kill some commies,” Leo smirked.

------

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A branch slapped Matra across the face, and she continued to struggle to keep pace with both Leo and Selene. Despite pumping her body full of all the mana she could before sickness would send her into fits of vomiting, she was still losing sight of both of them.

Each time she leaped over a tree or scrambled beneath a downed log, they kept getting further and further away.

She wanted to blame it on the armor Leo gave her, how awkward carrying this rifle…she thinks that’s what he called it, but even a pup would be able to tell that was not the truth of the matter.

Selene was simply far more precise and practiced in mana control. If Matra even attempted to siphon a tenth of what her older sister could, she would be bedridden for a week.

Leo was the thing she couldn't make sense of . He was supposed to just be a human. Right? Yet he kept vanishing. Gaining ground. He moved like a veteran hunter stalking a rauxon. Leo was as swift as the wind and as enduring as sunlight.

Just as those young hunters sought to jockey around the flaming horns of those twenty-foot-high stags, he shifted, flexed, and deftly maneuvered, as if any hindrance would spell the death of the hunt.

Following her nose was the only way she could track them. After having lost them for nearly half an hour, Matra burst forth from the thicket and found them waiting for her. Well, Selene was waiting. Leo was listening to his radio.

“Roger that, Hatchet Actual out,” Leo said into his microphone, before immediately slinging down the battle board attached to his plate carrier's front and moving the map around with a stylus.

“Are you alright?” Selene asked Matra, pulling her back to her feet.

“I will be,” Matra wheezed, pulling a canteen off her belt and starting to drink. The ice-cold water soothed her burning throat and washed away the copper taste lingering on her tongue .

“Don’t drink too much,” Selene said, gently pushing the canteen away. “You will throw up or get cramps.”

“But…I’m so…thirsty..”

“I know, but just take sips.”

Matra did not argue with her older sister. She slowed down and only sipped at the water. The slowed pace and the rest helped her. It did not take long before she was nearly back up to full and almost ready to move again.

“What is his deal?” Matra asked, inclining her head toward Leo, who was still tapping at his battle board and radioing to countless wolf-kin. Including who she swore was her father, but the radio distortion made it impossible to be sure.

“What do you mean?” Selene tilted her head.

“Is he really human?”

Selene returned her gaze to Leo, her tail wagging faster and a smile stretching across her face. “As far as I know.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Vic swears he is a human.”

“What would that Skinner know? He doesn’t even know what he is,” Matra spat, cursing the man.

“That is just mean. Vic took us out into town all the time as kids. You and I both know he is a good man," Selene chastised.

“As a different person each time.”

The older sister shook her head and sighed. This argument came up frequently enough for Selene to know that pressing this issue was pointless. Matra just could not trust changlings. Something about them being able to shift form unsettled Matra as she got older.

“But yes. I am sure Leo is a human.” Selene said, shifting the topic back to Leo.

“Well, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Selene replied.

Leo slapped his battle board shut, and stood walking around and gathering various objects around the area. At first, Selene and Matra were unsure what he was doing, that was until he cleared an area with his foot and began to arrange the pinecones, sticks, and rocks with painful precision.

“You two, get over here,” Leo said, taking his hand and making small piles of dirt within his little display.

“What for?” Matra groaned while complying with the near order.

“Lesh’s little root monsters have found the kids. We have a location. Time to ruin someone’s day.”

“Ok, but what is this all for?” Matra asked, gesturing at the sand table.

“It’s time to make a plan.”

“Are we not just going to charge in? Dad always said he did that.”

Selene and Leo shared a glance, not one of hatred, but of pity. They knew the horrible, meat-churning reality they would be facing. Matra…was about to learn the hard way.

“No. Think about it,” Leo began pointing to his temple. “You and I can fight at a distance. Selene has to get in close. We have to support her and keep each other covered. Savvy?”

“Savvy?” Matra tilted her head.

“Do you understand?” Selene elaborated.

Leo and Selene looked at her, waiting. The few seconds felt like an eternity. She had never yet been tried in such a manner. The worst scrutiny she had thus far faced was whether she knew who Selene's latest boy toy was…not if she comprehended the rough idea of a battle.

“I think,” Matra swallowed.

—--

“Come on, let’s go kill those commies,” boasted one of the wolf-kin warriors Leo and company had linked up with.

“Vinya, we went over this. They aren’t commies. They are ruskies,” Hoya replied, smacking his cousin on the back with the haft of his spear, nearly sending Vinya stumbling out of the thicket and into the open.

They started bickering shortly after, each attempting to make the argument of which moniker should be used for the demons and why. Each tried to justify their position based on which movie they preferred and on the merits of the protagonist and the enemies.

Rocky for one. Vinya preferred that one, believing that Drago was the ultimate ruskie and wanted nothing more than to have a chance to battle such a foe. That due to his mana control and physiology, the brawl would be about as exciting as Mike Tyson fighting an infant was not mentioned by anyone.

Hoya, on the other hand, absolutely was convinced that now that he and several of his cousins were going out to fight with Leo, they were about to become The Wolverines. He must love the movie, because he even had a coon skin hat and a letterman’s jacket on.

Whatever the reason for their disagreement, it did not matter to Leo or anyone more experienced in fighting in the current ragtag squad of warriors---namely, Selene. The only thing that mattered was them knuckling down, shutting the fuck up, and getting their head in the game.

Selene looked back and was about to snap at the pair, telling them to be quiet, but as her eyes locked onto them, Leo ghosted up behind them. Neither of the pair noticed the man until it was far too late. Leo did not attempt to overpower either; he knew better than to try.

As if the forest itself had grown to seize one for daring to violate the serenity of the boughs, Leo wrapped his hand around Vinya’s mouth and whispered subvocally to him. “You talk too much.”

All of the wolf-kin warriors gawked, at long last noticing the man they had last seen scouting ahead of them had somehow stalked around, gotten behind them, and could have killed any of them. Without any threat or further reminder that Leo had told them all to be quiet when they had set off several hours earlier, he let Vinya go and skulked forward.

“Wait here, keep silent. The enemy is just ahead,” Leo said as he reached Selene’s side. He tapped her shoulder and gestured for her and Matra to follow him. “You two, on me.”

Like a group of stalking wolves, silent, predatory, and focused, they moved, easing forward through the woods. Their presence did not run afoul of the will of the woods; though they carried weapons and the will to destroy, the spirits of the woods blessed them, filled them with assurance, and concealed their movements from the foul beings it wished destroyed as much as they.

Assisting one another, they clambered up and into the trees, gaining a vantage point on the location Lesh had directed them toward. A lone cave, one that even the ancient being admitted was a part of the myriad of things he had forgotten about. The way Lesh spoke of the cave was odd, something that even through the uncaring radio came across loud and clear.

Lesh spoke of the cave as if he were trying to describe a crystal wine glass to a blind person. He could vaguely recall the shape, but could not truly convey it to someone through words alone. It was likely one of the many things the ancient being had forgotten almost in its entirety.

Elowin had warned Leo and the others about that quirk of his. Lesh truly had forgotten more than they had ever known. A thought that unsettled Leo. He could not fathom an existence where you had forgotten enough information to recreate the library of Alexandria ten times over and then some.

Across the draw between them and the cave, little was visible. They could barely see the structure itself within the far hillside through the thick ever-shifting leaves. The cave mouth was nothing but a wound in the hillside, a darkness so complete it seemed to drink the surrounding light. It was barely visible, but it was there, an endless dark breaking up the endless swaths of green, beckoning them to join eternal entropy.

“Lesh, what makes you think this is the place?” Leo asked into the microphone.

“It is not a matter of knowing it is there. Many locations within my bounds could serve the enemy well. But that is one of the locations I believe it might be.” Lesh explained.

“Wait, did you just send us here on a hunch? I thought you said you knew?”

“No, warrior. I said I know how to find them. Where you are, there is a great rift in the flow of mana. It is like there is a void, a place where it does not exist. It likely is affecting even the shrubbery adjacent to you.”

They looked around, paying close attention to the leaves and plants, and confirmed that toward the cave, the plants were not quite dead but were clearly drooping.

“I merely sent you and groups of those other juvenile races to locations where we likely would encounter the enemy. I myself am even attacking a location as we speak.”

“Just fucking great,” Leo muttered under his breath, having regretted not listening to Elowin's advice to be very considerate of what Lesh does.

A gentle touch rested on his shoulder, “It will be alright,” Selene assured.

“Alright. We will check this location and keep you posted. Hatchet Act out.”

“Do you two see or hear anything?” Leo asked. Matra had spent the duration of that conversation using the thermal goggles to scan ahead, while Selene used her Mark-1 eyeballs; if anything was visible, they would have seen it.

“Nothing,” Matra replied. “But something definitely is strange. It’s like...I don’t know, we are being watched.”

“I got that feeling too.” Leo looked beside him at Selene. She nodded, confirming that she had the same sinking feeling.

It was a feeling similar to what Leo had felt the other night. There was electricity in the air. One that bleeds into existence with the faint scent of ozone. It was a feeling similar to that in moments before an ambush. Leo hoped it was just some magic fuckery; but all experience pointed to otherwise.

“Alright, Selene, go back for the other wolf-kin, move up the gulley from the right. Matra and I will keep watch from that ridge,” Leo said, pointing toward a rock, barely visible from their concealed position. “Radio in once you are in the gulley.”

“Can do,” Selene nodded before rolling back off the branch and gracefully landing on the forest floor without a sound.

Slowly, Leo and Matra moved down the tree. Stealthily, they moved, only a few feet at a time, before they stopped, looked, listened, and repeated. With how little they knew about what took the kids, or how it managed to do so, they were both on a razor's edge.

Each time they stopped, Leo had to press the muzzle of Matra’s rifle away from pointing at his grape. She was lucky he was the only one who had trained her, and that the wolf-kin in all regards lacked a genuine understanding of how deadly human tools were. Sure, they understood it could kill. But their information came from bad eighties movies.

He reiterated that they should never flag him each time before they continued. If she were not an amateur, she might have stopped, but with her lack of experience, Matra just kept defaulting to holding the rifle comfortably. That just so happened to have his head at the muzzle.

He swapped sides with her at the halfway point. She was unpredictable enough; mitigating the risk of having his brains blown out was the best he could do for the moment.

They spotted nothing as they moved closer, until they lay prone on the rocks, setting up with a clear line of sight to the cave entrance and several game paths leading toward it.

“Alright, Selene. We are in position. Go ahead and move in,” Leo radioed, trying to ignore the paranoia growing in his mind. Something was not right. He could feel it in the deepest pits of his instincts.

The same voice from eons of ancestry that told him Elowin could be trusted implicitly was currently a live wire, powering his jittering leg.

“Understood.”

Through their scopes, they watched as the armored line of wolf-kin gradually moved. Their armor clinked silently as their primitive weapons poked in all directions like a porcupine. Ancient warfare was their element. They naturally moved and knew how each other would traverse around them.

The four-man element, with Selene at the front, kept up a steady pace until they neared the turn to ascend the hill toward the cave; at that point, they slowed.

Leo was glued to his binoculars, focusing so heavily that he could not calm his heart. As he glassed from the far ridge to the gully for the tenth time, a second niggling feeling crawled up his leg.

A warmth flowed from his trouser pocket. Without thinking, Leo reached into the pocket and touched the object. It was something he was not sure he had brought. Hell, he had been carrying it daily since Elowin gave it to him. The only time he did not have it on him was when he bathed. Leaving it behind just felt wrong… like he was leaving a part of his very being.

That little rock.

It was like something…or someone was trying to speak to him through the stone. He could almost hear whispers on the wind, warning him of something. He focused on the sounds but could not make heads or tails of them, yet it made him feel something. Warmth? Assured? Protected? He was not sure. But it was a feeling he could tell was filled with raw goodness.

Shifting back and taking up his rifle, Leo scoped back in, feeling slightly invigorated. As his crosshairs landed on the cave, he noticed something shift. Well, not really shift, it shimmered, moved like a mirage of heat.

The mirage skulked along the ground, slowly moving toward the wolf-kin, working their way up the hill just below it.

Leo sighted in on it, just in time for two things to happen: A pair of green eyes to appear within the haze, and for Hoya’s head to go flying as a thin razor of light ripped it off from the jaw down.

-----

Enough happiness, time for fighting!!!

-Colin

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Hours had gone by, and Leo and Selene had scoured the floating island they were on, finding neither hide nor hair of Malo, Yasha, or Jorda. In as meticulous a way as possible, they searched, gridding off the island, using thermals and scent in every direction. But all that came up with was signs of Malo and the others near the camp, then suddenly vanishing at the woods' edge.

It was as if the world had simply swallowed them whole, leaving no tracks, no scent, and no explanation behind .

That Selene could not track them by scent at all was beyond concerning. It was downright unnatural. Even Matra was stumped as to how the kids seemingly disappeared. Nothing outside of magical intervention could indefinitely conceal your presence from a wolf-kin's keen senses.

Sure, you might be able to trick one for a moment or two, such as when Leo ambushed Selene during the game of tag, but even then, that only worked because Selene was relaxed, and Leo was right there. If she had taken the game more seriously, Selene would have found Leo with ease.

Leo held Selene close to him, as she quietly sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt. With a silent glance at Matra, she stepped closer and reached out to take over care for her distraught sister. Selene resisted for a moment as Matra rested a hand on Selene’s shoulder, but once Leo nodded to her, she relented.

The sisters returned to the camp---only ten yards away---needing to keep the kids calm and present. A few had tried to rush off and join the search, while others were borderline panicking. They, like Selene, were one wrong word from being thrust into an abyss of despair, losing themselves in the morose fear of their friends’ safety.

The sun drooped below the floating island just as Leo reached the crest of a hill to the camps west. His shadow stretched far and long, covering the camp and all those who were under his charge.
All were his responsibility. Every frightened child around that fire. Every scout entrusted to him. And three of them were missing because he had ignored the warning gnawing at the back of his mind.
Meticulously, he double-checked his gear: night-vision goggles, thermal imagers, rifle, radio, and a dozen other small pieces of kit that would hopefully help him recover the kids. But Leo could not do it alone. He needed Selene at his side, but without getting the kids to safety, he knew she would not go with him.

What Leo really wanted was a fully loaded Blackhawk, a team straight out of the 75th, and enough ordinance to make a master EOD technician blush. But he was fresh out of that, so he would take a tomboy wolf-kin and a master of the druidic arts.

“Miri, do you copy?” Leo said into his shoulder-mounted microphone.

“I hear you, soldier boy. What can I do for you?” Miri replied, her tone slightly annoyed. Glancing at his watch, Leo could tell why. It was almost 1800, Miri liked to relax with a glass of whiskey at this hour. His call likely pulled her away from a freshly poured old-fashioned.

“I need you to get the Wolf-kin clan moving to search for the kids; a few of them have gone missing.”

For the first time since Leo had met her, Miri didn't immediately have something to say. The pause was long enough that Leo was about to key the PTT again to see if Miri copied. As he grabbed the speaker, it exploded with rapid-fire questions and frantic concern. Wincing away from the caterwauling speaker, Leo cringed.

He let Miri run her course; eventually, she calmed down enough that he could get a word in edgewise and explain what had happened, what they knew, and ultimately what Leo wanted. He wanted to use the Wolf-kin to both escort all the kids back to the park proper and act as an armed search force.

In the closest intent, he wanted to recreate a hatchet team, a type of raiding, a quick reaction force dating back to Vietnam. Plus, it would allow him to spread little groups of angry wolf-kin throughout the park, ready to attack whatever took the kids.

“Ok, I will talk to Rork and get them moving. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, I need you to get Elowin out here and have her get Lesh involved in the search.”

Dead air hung over the radio, a long silence, one that Leo could feel weighing on him. It was not because Miri was shocked; Leo knew that. Leo was asking to play with fire. Hopefully, no one would get burned.

“Are you sure you want him involved?” Miri asked.

“Yes.”

—--

“I don’t care what you say. I am coming with you both,” Matra stomped her foot, protesting while Leo helped Selene slip into her armor.

“And I told you you are not. We all have a role to play, and you have to protect these kids until your pack arrives.” Leo reiterated, gesturing to the kids all huddled around the fire.

“I will just follow you.”

“The hell you will,” Selene growled at her sister, turning around and jabbing a claw into Matra’s chest.

Matra stumbled back, yelping from each hit from Selene. Her sisters' claws dig deep and draw blood. As Matra stepped back, her paw caught on a rock and nearly sent her stumbling back and really into the pile of equipment Leo had staged.

Without missing a beat, Selene lunged forward, catching Matra around the waist, keeping her sister from crashing through all of the surveillance kit Leo packed in.

“Are you alright?” Selene asked, pulling Matra up to her feet and looking her over for any injuries.

Her breakdown began as a sniffle, the tiniest thing that one would barely notice. But just as the first drops of rain augur an oncoming storm, her microscopic snuffle forecasted the floods from decades of overwhelming comparison. The malignant sores of a condemnation of weighted justifications pouring out, ready to be arbitrated by the reason for knives to be driven into the soul of a lost little sister.

“Spirits, dammit, no…” Matra cried into Selene’s shoulder. “Why? Why is it always you? Why do they make me come out here?”

“What?” Selene raised a brow, confusion evident in her scrunched brow; yet, despite being confused, she still pulled her sister closer, hugging her, offering whatever comfort she could. “Why is what me?”

“Dammit, you still don’t get it. It’s you. It’s always you. Dad and Mom both want to see you do well. They only care about you.”

“Huh? But they always sent you to take my boyfriends; they wanted you close. Doesn’t mom want you to lead the pack?”

Leo cringed as Matra hit Selene with a hammer fist so weak it would not even move him. He, thick as a brick and about as eloquent as a hammer, could still see what was going on. This was not his place to comment, but he did know that when familial stakes boiled over, violence may follow. As such, he moved to the side of them, settling atop a hardcase, ready to hopefully keep them from ripping one another apart—all he could do was hope words and tears were the only thing about to be exchanged.

If it came to blows, he could not stop Matra and Selene. Attempting to do so would be akin to tossing a frog in a blender.

“No, you idiot. They want you for all that,” Matra cried into the crook of Selene’s neck. “I’m just useful to them.”

“No no no no. You're you,” Selene assured. “You were always the better hunter, the better daughter. I just kept running off.”

“You’re not listening!” Matra snapped, pulling back from Selene and staring her eye to eye, tears flowing freely down her flushed cheeks. “I was the one assigned to do what they wanted, but it was and is always about you. Get her. See if her boyfriend would want you. Even now, they sent me on this trip to watch you and Leo. ”

“You, they let you go off and be a warrior. The rest of us just have to sit there and watch you get to be what you want to.” She jabbed an accusatory finger at Leo when she finished the sentence.

“I…I…” Selene began, unsure of what to say, but that was no matter, Matra was not done.

“I am tired of it. I wanted to be like you. But you…you kept vanishing, or telling me to stay home when I tried to follow. Do you have any idea what it’s like? How lonely it was? I wanted to go off on an adventure with my big sister and you always told me no?”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Selene replied, wiping the tears from Matra’s face. “Not delving into dirt, getting in danger.”

“Then let me come with you. Let me do something I want to do for once in my life.”

Selene looked to Leo, silently pleading for him to give her an answer. The look of desperation in her eyes was one Leo never expected from Selene. She was always so happy. Yeah her family was a sore spot and he knew it, but that despite all they had done she still just wanted to make sure her little sister was happy spoke bounds about Selene as a person.

She certainly was a better person than Leo was. If it was only up to him, and he did not have to consider her feelings on the matter, he would stand strong on his stance that Matra should stay with the kids.

“Alright, Matra, you can come along,” Leo sighed, kneeling beside the pair. “But that does mean we won’t be leaving until the wolf-kin get here.”

Her demeanor did not change in an instant, an act that was very welcome to Leo. She wasn’t acting to just get her way. “So what is the plan?”

“Wait for Lesh to get here, and in the meantime, I have to get you armored up and something bigger than that pea shooter,” Leo replied, gesturing toward the Glock hanging loosely off an improperly worn belt holster.

“Well, wait no longer, warrior, for I have arrived,” Lesh's voice rumbled from all around, shaking the floating island and all its inhabitants to the very core of their souls.

The ground split, not like a fissure, despite the earthquake rolling through the island, no, it was a dark, pustulous slash through the dirt. The trees died, flowers wilted, and small animals scurried away as Lesh’s emergence cut across the hillside. Blackish green tar bleeding from the fresh wound.

The trio stepped back from the foul liquid, gagging from the horrible scent of death and rot. Once a few feet from the edge of the event horizon, they watched as Lesh made his overly dramatic entrance.

Crackling lightning shot into the sky, as a dark figure of shadow grew from the goo. The skull formed, followed by each part of his visage, solidifying in sudden bursts. With each mote of light, the liquid crystalized and formed his gangly limbs.

After nearly half a minute, Lesh’s cloak crawled up his body from the pit, draping itself across his body, leaving all that he was save for the dark white skull and ever-shifting antlers hidden beneath the draping fabric.

“Could you be more over the top?” Leo asked as Lesh waved a hand dismissing all the darkness of his summoning.

“I would have preferred to arrive like the terminator, but that is not possible if you wish to have survived. Alternatively If you truly wish for me to showboat more, I could have caused a volcanic eruption,” Lesh replied, turning his hand over and letting dribbles of fire fall to the ground, setting the now dead grass alight.

“Let’s not do that. And put that out, Lesh,” Leo pointed at the fire and ignored Lesh once again having this odd obsession with eighties pop culture.

Lesh stepped forward with his bony, root foot, stomping on the flames, extinguishing them with a bitter hiss. He looked about the area, licking his chops, seeing how the kids were hiding behind one another, cowering from him.

Even Matra and Selene were silent, keeping their eyes averted from the ancient pseudo-god. Lesh let out a low lumbering growl, feral, hungry. He stopped when Leo—the only one not affected by the dark being's presence— put his foot down.

“Lesh, what did Elowin and Miri tell you about what is going on?”

The ancient being turned his attention to the Ranger. Leo was not sure how he could tell; maybe it was the presence and how Lesh stood, or it might have been something to do with how the winds shifted around the creature, but he could have sworn Lesh was smiling. He was happy, the same way a cat was happy to see a particularly juicy mouse.

“Ah, you are so refreshing to see, Ranger. You are always full of surprises.”

“I’m glad you are entertained, but I don’t have time for this, so just answer the question,” Leo crossed his arms and stared at Lesh damn near like an equal.

“I heard enough. Some of your charges have gone missing, and through means, the wolf-kin and other juvenile creations cannot follow. So you wished for my aid in locating them. Is that correct, or have I been misinformed?”

“No, you heard right. So are you willing to help us out?” Leo asked.

“Would I have come if I intended to refuse?”

“Good.” Leo extracted an extra radio from his dump pouch and held it out for Lesh. “Use this and press this button here to let me know whenever you find any sign of them.”

With curiosity, Lesh took the radio, pressed the button, and heard the radio mic on Leo’s shoulder squelch. He did this a few times before looking almost offended at the device.

“This told you nothing. Is your artifact faulty?”

“Speak into it while pressing the button.” Leo rolled his eyes.

After a few moments of testing out the radio, Lesh nodded and affixed it to his chest with vines growing from his shoulders, holding it in a sort of bag-like growth. “Worry not warrior, I will find them.” He said while turning toward the distance.

“You won’t hurt them, right?” Selene asked.

Lesh froze when Selene addressed him, and with the sounds of cracking wood, his head turned entirely around in an instant Causing her body to tense, like she expected an attack, but his answer oddly put her mind at ease. “No harm will come to your ilk. Those that took them, however…I will enjoy rooting out more mice from my larder.”

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I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. We get more of lesh today and another chapter featuring the man/thing

-Colin Graves

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Several days had passed since Leo first spotted the yellow eyes, and the scouts were hard at work. They were all working hard, putting in all their effort to complete this little challenge Selene had drummed up for the scramble of teams.

The voices of challengers echoed in from near and far: from the thicket across the water, to the nearby shore. Rapidly, the kids worked, doing all they could to prove not only to Leo and Selene but also to themselves that they had learned and retained the lessons taught to them over the last few weeks.

Despite the kids being in random groups, they worked well together, young and old. The younger scouts scoured the woods for sticks, bark, and dry tinder. The older kids wrestled with bow drills, carved funnels from scavenged bottles, and repurposed battered cans into water filters: bowdrill, friction board, and a few other options.

None even had an ember going yet, which was a shame. Most teams were already building filtration bottles for the water that still needed to be boiled.

“Come on, guys,” Leo said, crouching beside one of the groups. “You have to put way more pressure on the drill than that.”

“Like you could do any better,” one of the wolf-kin boys snapped back, dropping the bowdrill in the dirt.

Leo picked up the tool and looked it over. He flexed the bow a bit and cinched it down in a tighter position before handing it back.

“I did this in a Venezuelan downpour so heavy I couldn't see my own boots. Take it seriously. Next time, the prize might be the gift of sunrise, not a pack of candy and a merit badge.”

The kid did not argue with Leo; they had all heard about the human fighting like an animal at the portals. With how martial the wolf-kin society was, he might as well have spoken gospel by referring to his time at war.

That group got back to it as Leo bounced from group to group, encouraging them and giving little pointers on what would make starting a fire easier. Change of tinder, having a bird's nest ready, or more pressure like the first group.

None of his advice was anything groundbreaking. It did not need to be. Humans, felinites, and wolf-kin had all been wielding fire as both a tool and weapon since antiquity. The methods of doing so were more advanced than then: Bic, lighter fluid, gasoline, pre-made fire starter, but that was just an advancement of the equipment.

The basics were still the same. Fuel, oxygen, and heat. All you had to do was harness your inner Prometheus and give birth to your own fire.

It took no time before smoke drifted lazily into the air. Seeing that the fires were made, Selene, with a skip in her step, went afield, searching for any groups having trouble building their filters, leaving Leo alone nearby the jaws of an increasingly desperate beast.

"So Leo," Matra said, sidling up beside him and running a claw down his chest. "How many commies have you killed?"

“Enough.” Leo bit.

“Enough, eh. Come on, warrior, don’t be shy, let me hear a bit more.”

He sighed and stepped back from Matra. “Why do you want to know? Does the number of people I've killed make me a better mate or something?”

“Well, no. But dad loves to talk about all the demons, dragons, and monsters he killed on other planes. I figured you would too.”

“Let me guess. Rork told you a bunch of stories about that when you were kids? Tales about valiantly slaying the dragon? How he stood stalwart, unyielding against gnashing teeth and rending claws?”

“Figures as much.” Leo scoffed.

“What do you not believe that my father did all that?”

“I never said that. I just know people like yours glorify war and fighting. What he told you were stories to inspire the younger generation, not the grim, nasty reality of war. Your dad wouldn’t tell you about how many died, how slowly those deaths happened. You got a sanitized version of that.”

She stomped her foot and grumbled at him, “But you told the kids war stories while giving them lessons.”

“That’s different,” Leo said, turning and facing Matra, all semblance of joy and joviality falling away. It was the same thing Leo did when telling a fresh-faced private that the shit they were about to jump into was not like the movies.

“I told them stories that show how what I was teaching them could be used. I did not tell them about the emaciated farmer pressed ganged into a uniform, shivering and scared as shadows in the darkened jungle moved with men with green eyes, and he knew his end had arrived.”

“You make it sound like you were the monster.”

“Yeah.” Leo nodded, momentarily thinking back to those days long gone. “Let’s drop that for now. Go help Selene with the filter groups.”

“But..” Matra began, but folded her ears when Leo glared and curtly delivered his simple command.

“I said go.”

Matra slinked away, likely not understanding why Leo was upset. War was not a game. It was—until very recently—his profession. Talking about it like one would a story about grand heroes just put a sour taste in his mouth. Her flat-out asking him how many men he killed was just uncouth.

That is a question a kid asked. Not a question for a grown woman, who likely had grown up seeing her father haunted by the ghosts of his past.

He sighed and tossed a piece of gum in his mouth, heading over to the last group of kids still struggling with their fire. After giving each of them a piece, he watched what they did and once again gave advice. They got a spark going after a few minutes.

The groups fed their fires tinder first, then kindling, then steadily larger pieces of wood. They would have made Jack London proud; the threat of eighty below was not going to take these kids anytime soon.

Younger kids gradually trickled in. They teased one another about the plants they found, or about other childish considerations: the color of the shirt and the fluffiness of one's fur. Leo did intervene in a few squabbles, but nothing serious, just a game of keep away, and another where the kid was about to dangle a live spider in a girl's face.

Gradually, they poured pond water into cans, then placed them over the fires. Leo did not allow them to guesstimate about boiling times. He did provide them with timers for that. The last thing anyone wanted was for a fun trip and a little test of knowledge to turn into a horrible memory of borderline dysentery.

The day went on. No trouble. The kids boiled water, while Leo’s lizard brain stood alert. The yellow eyes had to be out there. Something waited, watched, wanted. His vindication did not come for hours. But it did come. Right after Murphy started whispering in his ear.

“Leo! I can’t find Malo!” Selene cried, running out of the woods toward him, Matra at her side.

It was time to Ranger the fuck up.

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I hope you enjoyed todays posting. I will have more tomorrow.

-Colin

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Mother Night had kissed the world, casting it all in darkness. The wolf-kin and felinite campfires kept the darkness at bay, standing sentinel against the outer dark.

The kids' tents circled the clearing, each facing inward, with most flaps open. All the felinites and wolf-kin kids were spread about the tables, playing board games by lantern light, or had already decided to go to bed. Laughter drifted between tents while lanterns painted warm pools of gold across the grass.

It had taken them nearly until dark to set up the entire camp and bust out freeze-dried meals for dinner. That many of the kids were eager to turn it was not surprising. Even Leo was feeling the siren call of his bedroll–but for now, he had other things to care about beyond sleep.

Across the table, Malo sat, fingers twitching as his eyes glanced from the board filled with glittering images of the cards each had laid before them.

Malo had a small army of ten riders standing in a swamp of ash and scragged, desiccated trees; across from him, Leo held an army of dozens of cheaper units. Pikemen stood tall, concealed in heavy forests surrounded by emplacements.

Leo smirked. After four straight losses, finally putting Malo on the defensive felt damn good. Was it a bit of luck just because Leo had drawn a scorched earth card and had transformed Malo’s verdant fields card into the all-consuming swamp? Of course it was. But that did not make the nearly assured victory taste any less sweet.

Both only had five cards left, and he was done with wanting Malo to win.

“I put my Carrion Matriarch into the swamp.” Malo declared, putting the card atop the field card Leo had corrupted.

A massive visage grew from the card's face, far larger than any on the board. Wings of black, beak of fettered bone, and a call as vile as a demon loomed over the other cards. It cawed, balefully, marking a fate of death for all those around.

Two of Malo’s riders looked back at the beast and fled, while the others shivered in their boots. Leo’s forces were shaken by the summoning of such a foul creature, all cowering in fear from the monster.

That was an issue as it, mechanics-wise, made his force half what it was, and rendered the battlements moot; however, Leo had just the card to rally his troops around and, at long last, snatch a victory away from the cunning felinite commander.

“I counter with Buralak the Gorganian Paladin,” Leo replied, placing the card atop the stack of his pikeman.

Like a torch flaring into existence, a mighty blazing red grew from the center of the pikemen. Atop a horse of fire, festooned in a hardy full plate of polished orchalicum and adamantine armor, Buralak sat. He raised a grand halberd with one hand toward the great black beast.

As with all the other card illusions, when speaking, the players could not understand the gibberish used to represent speech. But, through magic worming its way into their minds, they felt the effects of Buralak’s speech.

It was as if they were the very soldiers under the command of the paladin---or apposing him.

Defiant against the dark, he would stand. He would never yield nor falter so long as his warriors stood by his side. Rallying abreast the paladin, all the pikemen returned to formation, ready for the approaching onslaught.

With both their deployment turns complete, all they could do was watch the outcome, but both knew what was about to happen. Leo sat tall, while Malo grabbed his head and looked on in despair.

Buralak and the pikemen held fast as the cataphracts rushed in and were quickly cut down to the man. Their blood seeped into the forest ground, staining it a verdant red.

The moment the riders were dead, Buralak rallied his troops. Under the protection of his god, they journeyed forth into the swamps, unaffected by the acidic bog.

With no hesitation, they surrounded and lashed the Carrion Matriarch to the ground with chain and nail. Once she flapped and screamed into the knee-deep water, Buralak watched as his troopers slew the beast. They stabbed at her with relentless resolve until, at long last, she fell silent.

As was designed in the game, Buralak turned his attention to Malo. The kid sat silent as a wave of holy energy passed over him when the representation of Leo’s win destroyed his singular hold by purifying the vile ground.

After a breath, the illusions faded, leaving Leo and Malo sitting across from one another. The kids who had watched the other bouts shouted and cheered for him. Selene hugged him from the side and unabashedly planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Good job!”

“Yeah,” Leo replied as she shook him hard enough to churn butter. He stood up and offered Malo a hand just as he had at the end of the other matches. “Good game, little bud.”

“I will get you next time,” Malo smiled.

“No doubt you will,” Leo smiled back, tousling Malo's hair.

He laughed and fixed his hair while Leo gathered up the decks, being careful to not mix them up. He looked out across the camp, assessing where everyone was, making sure no one was missing. No one was out of place at his glance; all the kids that had already gone to bed still had closed tents, and those who had not left their tents open as Selene had requested earlier.

The only one he saw not as they should be was Matra. She was near one of the fires, and a few of the kids sat around her. She was reading a story for them. It was some kind of picture book, and she had the knee bitters enthralled with her recounting. Her attention, however, was not with them in her entirety.

Between pauses, she would look back at Leo, with an almost imperceptible scowl on her otherwise attractive features. He knew it was because she had seen Selene and him embrace earlier, and now they were no longer shy about openly yearning after the other.

Was it jealousy, or something else? Leo could not say. But he had an inkling it had something more to do with familiar desires than her own heart being torn asunder by unrequited feelings.

“Leo, can I play a round?” Jorda tugged on his shirt.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Leo replied, pressing the kid closer to the table. “But you gotta ask him. They are his cards.”

Jorda folded his ears sheepishly, averting his eyes from Malo for a moment, before drumming up the courage to ask. “Malo..can I play with you?”

“Yeah! Do you know how?”

Jorda shook his head as he took the place that Selene and Leo stepped away from.

“That’s alright,” Malo replied, pulling another of his dozen decks from a bag and handing it across the table.

“Remember, kids, you only have an hour until it’s time for bed,” Selene reminded the kids as they settled in to watch Malo and Jorda.

“Yes, Miss Selene,” the kids replied in near-perfect unison.

They left the kids there to play and enjoy the last few hours of the night. In the meantime, they took the chance to patrol the perimeter and spend a few more minutes alone. Like the smoke drifting off into the endless black of night, the pair faded into the darkness just beyond the firelight.

The moment they were not in sight of the kids, Selene grabbed Leo’s hand, and her tail wrapped around his waist. She led him through the heavy woods, guiding him as to where to step in the wan light. For Selene, there was no difference between high noon and the wolf hour. She could see everything. The torch winks behind leaves, birds slumbering in the boughs, and even the quick darting movements of Leo’s amber-brown eyes.

“I think your sister is finally getting that I am not interested in her.”

“You say that now, but give her time. She is plotting another attempt,” Selene replied, softly guiding Leo over a fallen log. “Last time I was interested in a guy, she was so aggressive he ran clear out of the park. Never saw him again.”

“Does she always try to take the guys you date?”

“Just the ones that dad or mom thinks would be fine additions to the pack.” Selene rolled her eyes.

“How many?”

“So far...three for three, including you,” Selene replied, her tail squeezing him a bit more. “I haven’t seen the other guys in years. After they went with Matra, they went through the portals back to our home plane.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Leo squeezed her hand in response, while ducking carefully under a low-hanging branch. She hummed warmly in response, a smile as bright as sunlight forming.

They kept up their patrol in silence, with the low hoo-hoo of birds in the distance, the babbling brook, and the soft plodding of Leo’s boots acting as the soundtrack to their evening jaunt. All seemed well. The breeze was gentle, and the temperature was fair.

After half an hour, they had circumvented most of the lake. They stepped across a small bridge over the river flowing from the lake.

Across, they could see the kids hustling to meet their nightly needs before bed. Some read to others, a few brushed their teeth. Matra lingered in the entry to her own tent, head low, as she idly poked at the small fire near her tent.

For a moment, Leo almost felt bad for her. He could not fully comprehend the pressure she was under. Being pushed by your parents into a fight you could never win had to be crushing. Still, regardless of any sympathy he may feel for her circumstances, what she was doing was not right.

Selene did not deserve to be the clan's punching bag for wanting to be different. Nor should they attempt to take advantage of her benevolent soul by taking away what made her happy for their gains.

He just hoped that Matra fully understood her efforts would always be fruitless. If she did not, at the next attempt to lure Leo to the clan's beckoning, he would not be subtle or just push her off. Next time, he would dress her down in front of god and everyone, ensuring the message would never be misconstrued.

As they scanned across the water, every hair on Leo’s neck stood on end, as his lizard brain screamed at him that he was in danger. As quickly as he could Leo snapped around, squinting at the darkness. Nothing caught his eye. Not a color out of place, or movement. All was still.

“Do you smell anything?” Leo whispered.

Raising her nose skywards and sweeping back and forth while smelling for a few moments, Selene scrunched her nose. Not out of repulsion, but frustration. “No.” She whined, letting Leo go and stepping forward. “Did you see anything?”

“No...I just had a feeling.”

"Let me check it out," Selene nodded before crouching low and slinking closer to the underbrush. Like a panther closing in on prey, Selene slowly circled the area until vanishing into the thicket. Leo's hand tightened around his pistol until his knuckles ached .

Each breath was calculated and controlled as he focused, waiting for the gavel to drop and a fight to begin.

One second. A bush rustled. Ten seconds. A trailing hoot rose. Thirty. Forty. A minute. Two and Three.

His body tensed like a spring. He took a single step closer and barely audibly whispered. "Selene? Are you alright?"

In an instant, he got a response, a massive shift in the thicket and cracking branches. Leo half-drew his pistol and flicked on the light, nearly leveling it at the approaching contact, until Selene rolled out, the white tips of her ears standing out like stars against the black.

“I didn’t find anything,” Selene said, brushing a leaf out of her short hair. “Did you see anything?”

“No,” Leo replied, shoving the weapon back into its holster. “You certain you did not smell anything?”

Selene crossed her arms and tilted her head. “If there was something out there, I would have smelled or heard it. There is nothing out there.”

Leo sighed and nearly neurotically kept looking around, unable to shake the feeling that something was out there, watching from just out of view. A demon lurking, plotting, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. The same thing so many insurgents had done in the sandbox.

Memories of such cases were so common for Leo that he could perfectly envision a ghoul eying them through binoculars, finger hovering above a Motorola flips call button.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just nerves getting to you.” Selene assured, placing a palm on Leo’s cheek.

As if he was being ripped out of a trance, he locked eyes with Selene. Her assuring smile cast away all the demons lurking in the dark, both those from his past and the conjurations of a tense soul.

“Yeah...you are probably right,” Leo replied, turning with her to finish their patrol.

He wanted to believe her, wished in his heart of hearts that there was nothing out there. However, what he saw that night would not allow him to fully embrace that proposition. Long after the camp had cast their boats into the river of endless dreams, he sat awake, Mister Sandman, unwilling to get within arm’s reach of the Ranger. Out there—just beyond the edge of firelight—yellow, near invisible eyes skulked.

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Expect another chapter today, and two tomorrow. I am sorry I have been swamped and have neglected posting here.

-Colin

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Chapter Ten: Beyond the Veil

The frigid winds dug into my skin as the trees rushed by, looking like shadowy blurs in the wan light of the full moon. Snow crunched heavily beneath the monster's paws, its chest rising and falling, steam trailing from its maw as it ran faster and faster by the footfall.

She clutched me tighter to her breasts, but their size and softness were not what my senses keyed in on. I focused on the long claws digging into my forearm, holding me steady. They were razor blades the length of butcher's knives. Even though this beast was clearly trying not to hurt me, I could still feel the tension on my skin each time I shifted, the claws almost slicing me to ribbons.

With no notable effort, the monster clambered up a steep hill, tearing through trees and bushes without slowing down. It dove down a hole, which I was not able to see in the darkness, but felt as my stomach lurched. Its claws dug into the rock, slowing its descent enough that we landed gently at the bottom.

I groaned as she dropped me on the cave floor, the cold, wet rock soaking my trousers. In an instant, the massive lumbering beast slinked off into the gloom, its long tail flicking as it went. I tracked its wolfish, predatory movements, only able to discern its pacing back and forth by the sound of its claws on stone and rough, growling breaths.

I shivered, both from the frosty breeze entering the cave and from the fear of having something so alien and predatory watching me from just out of sight.

My heart hammered in my chest, racing faster than I had known was possible. I could hear each beat pulsing through my ears and feel the pressure behind my eyes; every thump was like the next would cause them to burst like blood-filled balloons.

“Calm, I no hurt,” A voice deep and resonant poured out from the darkness. The sudden speech was so unexpected it caused me to jump back, pressing myself against the wall.
As I did, a hand, massive, covered in fur with fingers tipped by blood-drenched claws, extended into the moonbeam.

Her...Bailey...having moved forward that little bit, cast her head in a wan glow. Her eyes, just as they had been in her human form, cast the same caring, nervousness that she had held the entire time I had known her as children.

A subtle flash of pain crossed her brow for a heartbeat. She then looked at her own hand and scowled before pulling her hand back, slinking entirely back into the shadows. She whimpered slightly once out of sight.

“No hurt. Bailey friend.” She snarled, the heavy sound of her fist cracking the stone reverberating through my chest. “Need Colt. Need.”

As soon as her last words drifted off into the night, a new sound began and filled the cave. A morbid cross between a sob and frustrated growling. At first the snarling unnerved me, but as I listened I felt a change well up in my heart.

I could not picture the monster I now knew Bailey was. All I could imagine lingering in that darkness was my friend. The girl I cried about for months after she had suddenly vanished. I forced my fear down until it settled somewhere beneath my ribs. I knew after having seen what Bailey had done to Jackson that if I was wrong, what I was about to do was about as dangerous as jumping into a lion's pen, soaked in blood, wearing a prime rib necklace.

As slowly as handling a live hand grenade, I got up and slowly approached the precipice, a silent demarcation line from my world and hers.

“Alright, Bailey. You don’t want to hurt me.” I swallowed my spit and stopped inches from the border. “You said you need me. How.”

There was a long pregnant silence in that cave, only our breathing filling the gap between us. I shifted nervously, the hair on the back of my neck rising as Bailey approached, her warm breath ghosting across my bleeding brow.
“Kill hunter.”

“Hunter? Jackson? Didn’t you kill him earlier?”
With a huff that made me feel like she was judging me for ignorance of all that was truly going on, she replied.

“No. No dead. Strong. Tough…mean.”

I have no idea how Jackson supposedly could have survived that brutal mauling. But who am I to say that? She is the superhuman creature who dealt all that damage. But now that I stopped and thought back to the attack, there was nowhere near enough blood. While I had never gone to war like Pop-pop. I had killed plenty of animals. Maybe he had something underneath that heavy jacket that protected him. Armor. Or maybe just as Bailey was, Jackson was not entirely human.

“Why do I have to? Can’t you? You seem strong.”

“No!” Bailey snapped her teeth, her muzzle barely poking out. “Promised mom. No monster. No monster.”
I paused. And thought about the downright bizarre situation only for a few breaths. I knew the woman lingering on the other side of the black curtain from me. I did not know Jackson. He had already attacked me, apparently had been hunting my friend for half her life, and killed her mother less than a week earlier. The decision I had to make was a simple one. One that my drill instructors would have beat me half to death for making the wrong one.

I guess Sergeant Buck's scenarios and moral conundrums he kept pressing on me had some effect after all.

“Alright, Bailey. I will help you kill Jackson.” I held a hand out, breaching the veil of shadow of my own accord.

A warm, furred hand encapsulated mine, holding it tenderly. With no warning, Bailey pulled me closer to her. She embraced me in a shockingly gentle hug. Her soft fur bid me welcome, along with the heady scent of her wild soul. Hesitantly, like returning the gesture was tossing away all that I knew I hugged her in return. My fingers dug deep into endless forests of fur concealing her impossibly strong muscles.

“Thank Colt.”

“You're welcome,” I replied, looking up at her eyes. It took me a moment to see them clearly, but once my eyes had adjusted, my friend's gentle, loving eyes were all I could focus on.

“We need to make a plan,” I said, reaching up and running a hand along her cheek, with her leaning into my touch.

I paused as her eyes closed. She was something Pop-pop and I had spent many hours laughing about, reading stories of, and reflecting on in my youth. But here she was. She was very real. Undeniably real.
As my thumb ran over blotches in her black fur, patterned just like the southern cross, a worming thought entered my mind. Bailey had said Pop-pop and I knew about them—or that we would at least help. It was a shame he had left the mortal coil years ago because I would love to pick his brain about what he genuinely knew now that I understood what lay beyond the veil. 

Chapter Eleven: Full Moon Fighting

Trying to communicate with Bailey to make a plan was challenging to say the least. With her in wolf form, it was like I was trying to speak to someone who is limited to five words at a time and needed multiple minutes to process anything.

Eventually I gave up on the idea of explaining what I wanted to do with words alone. I drew in the snow like a sand table, making it easy for Bailey’s currently more instinctual mind to understand her role in this horribly stupid plan. But we did get one that worked.

I now was seated within the snow, nestled in the undergrowth, a pocket full of shells, and Pop-pop's old double barrel loosely held in my shaking grip.

“It was as cold as a witch's tit out here,” I muttered, recalling that Pop-pop would say the same thing whenever the mercury retreated into the bulb entirely.

There was nothing romantic about a cold like this. Several below zero was something most could not understand; even I struggled to grasp the idea that once the mercury was visible, you still had thirty-two degrees before melting even began. He would say before we gave up on the hunt, “There were no stiff lips when your breathing hurts.”

“Where did that get me?” I sighed, the water from my breath freezing on my lips.

As if she was a phantom of the wild hunt itself, bringing the great frost in her wake, Bailey zipped past me, heavier winds trailing behind her. I struggled to track her in the darkness. But once her visage slunk into the undergrowth, I knew she was tucked in down by the creek, in the water and running north.

We would meet up later at her old home. That was the best plan I could come up with where Jackson—if he killed me- would give her a chance to keep running.

It was odd. I know the Corps had supposedly prepared me to die. But now that I was actually facing the possibility, I felt oddly calm. Much like the heroes in all my pulp novels, I was ready to stand as a bulwark against evil and face it unflinchingly. 

—---

I limped along the trail of that demon. Just a few minutes ago I regained consciousness after having been thrown through the window. The snow was covered in my blood, and I struggled to breathe. That bitch definitely broke a rib. But that was nothing compared to the wounds I had sustained during my righteous crusade.
My body was a tapestry of scar tissue, healing wounds, and the remnants of my triumphs.

That stupid bitch likely thought she killed me, but a true warrior of God could not be stopped by the vile powers of darkness. In her arrogance, that demon lurked nearby when I awoke, waiting, watching for my soul to drift to the pearly gates. Did she not know I wore silvered mail? What kind of a hunter would not?

The moment I spotted her, she ran. I did not even have the time to draw my pistol. The coward knew I kept blessed silver loads in my cylinder. I killed her mother with it after all. Pride welled in my chest as I took another limping step. Good, the monsters were afraid of the light and fled to the path God had destined them to walk down.

Time was a blur. I was still losing blood. Not enough to threaten me anymore, I had the wherewithal to bandage myself, but still my vision was already blurred, and the world was in black and white.

I grit my teeth, snarling, and I leaned against a tree, looking out along the trail of spor, imagining that beast just beyond the next ridge. That image fueled me, kept me walking, kept me hunting. I would not falter. I would not fail.

She would die tonight.

I tracked her up in the winding cold forest. The winds shifted to my back, turning my scent toward that creature. So what. It didn't matter. I was at the eleventh hour of my final hunt. There was no escape this time.
I continued, lumbering up the hill. As I crested the ridge, the fresh scent of a stream filled my nose. Just like Raleigh, this bitch thought she would hide in the water. I would find her again, just like then.

Click. A sound that could not be mistaken came from my right.

“How’s it going, you John? Feeling alright after the fight?”

—---

“I feel like shit,” I replied, my entire body aching as I trained the twelve-gauge on Jackson, the front bead right on his neck.

“Well, that makes two of us,” he replied, pulling back the hammer on his handgun, but not looking at me. “You and that thing gave me quite the thrashing. I can’t say I’ve ever been this beaten.”

“So any last words?”

“Is there anything I can say to convince you that I am right and she has to die?” Jackson asked, peeking at me from the corner of his eye.

“No.”

A deep sigh poured from Jackson, one of disappointment and exhaustion. I could sympathize with that. I was tired as well and equally disappointed that he could not see what I had. Bailey was no monster, and did not deserve to die just because of what she was.

Nothing else needed to be said. We were simply two disparate souls on opposite sides of this line in the sand.
The world slowed, snowfall seeming to stand in place, floating in the air as Jackson twisted, raising his pistol. Without any hesitation, I depressed both triggers. The hammers flew home and launched a salvo of death at the hunter.

Buck shot tore through him, splattering blood across the snow. He fell into a heap, half his neck gone, as he died in an instant.

There was no feeling of greatness, no righteous calls from on high telling me I had done right. I wished I could have something like those heroes of old, where a god reached down from heaven and assured me I had done right. But this was reality, and those…were just stories.

I did not look back. I walked the long hours to Bailey's old house; the sun rose on the way, bathing the world in such a welcoming orange hue. There I did find her. She was waiting for me on the porch. She was no longer in her wolf form.

As soon as she spotted me, Bailey leaped from her chair and charged me, embracing me as I did her.

“Is it…” She began, but stopped, not quite sure what to say.

“It’s done,” I assured her, holding her close to my chest.

We embraced there, for longer than either of us could ever know. We knew both our worlds had changed forever and all we had left was one another. 

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Many things had crossed my mind as a possible person knocking on the door at the crack of the witching hour. A lost city boy needing direction, that had happened more than once. The forest service letting us know the road was cleared. That would be strange at this late hour, but was not unheard of. Hell, I could have seen Lucky or one of the deputy sheriffs just doing a wellness check. That was quite regular for people like Pop-pop who lived out all alone in the sticks after any storm.

There were dozens of other things I might have believed. But opening the door to someone who looked like they stepped right out of an old western mountain man tale was not even on this planet, much less my expectational possibilities.

The man was draped in shadow. The full moon overhead was unable to illuminate his bearded face from beyond the umbra beneath a wolven cloak draping down to his knees. His crooked teeth were somewhat visible from the candle I held, but only just enough so that I could tell the man neglected them; yellow, crooked, and a few sort of the full set.

Despite the man's concealed visage, it was not difficult to discern his bulk. He was massive, a Hulk, absolutely herculean. Six feet tall—a few more than myself—and covered in rippling muscles. But based on those cracked and worn hands peaking from the wolfskin, that muscle was not for show. He was a hardened man, a man of a gilded practice he knew more than most men knew themselves. He belonged on the cover of a darker-toned pulp novel, not at my door before the first cock crowed. To put it simply, his presence vexed me.

He, by appearance alone, gave Bailey's words of paranoia credence. Something was deeply wrong here. I just did not know what yet.

I pressed the candle out and opened the door slightly more, wanting a slightly better look. “Can I help you?” I asked, the flickering flame being almost instantly beaten down by the whipping, relentless winter breeze. I pulled the flame back. It was better to have it and not allow Jack Frost's winter upset to claim it.

“Hello there, little lad,” the man smiled. His voice was as deep as the ocean and just as dark. “I think you might be able to lend me a bit of a hand.”

He leaned in, resting an elbow on the door frame, shoving his fingers in the door. My eyes flicked to them, acknowledging their presence, but I made no other motion to evict him. It was so abnormal to have anyone arrive this late; there had to be some legitimate reason for his presence. Even if his lurking demonic air sent shivers down my spine.

“Yeah, see, I have been tracking something. Tracking it for a long, long time. I’m certain you understand. You look the type.”

“I do,” I nodded, knowing damn well what it’s like to scour spoor for days on end to find one wounded buck. But something in the back of my mind told me this stranger was not talking about some trophy buck.

“Perfect, perfect. So mt prey passed by here at least. SO tell me, have you seen anyone coming or going? Odd, queer types yah’ know. Those that don’t belong with us?” The stranger said, trying to peek into my cabin. I pushed forward, blocking him. I scowled, and he returned the gesture. At least we were on the same page there.

“So what, you a marshal or something?” I asked, doubting it fully.

“Yeah. A marshal. I’m looking for someone dangerous. So tell me, boy. Have you seen anyone come through here?”

The moment he finished his sentence, a sound drew my eye. I glanced right and saw Bailey standing in the portal to the room, blanket draped over her lithe body. The man saw me glance. It was obvious.

“Who else is in there?”

“No one. It’s just my dog and me.”

The stanger ccked his head and assessed me. He licked his lips and slid a hand into a pocket. “Now you know, son, harboring fugitives is against the law.”

“I ain’t harboring any fugitive. And I have yet to see a badge or anything from you.”

The stranger sighed, shaking his head. “Now didn’t your da’ teach you not to lie? Especially when you're shit at it?”

I did not try to answer. I knew this man was here for no good. I pressed my body into the door, wanting wholly to crush his fingers. But like I had attacked a troll, my attempt to leverage into the hardwood was a lie at a bridge.

The door flung open as I was tossed back inside by the man, and he stepped inside. He flexed his muscles and drew that hand from his pocket. A set of silvered knuckles glimmered in the candlelight; wolfsbane seeped oil dripping onto my trousers as he stepped over me.

He looked toward the door Bailey was in, as she shut her door. “So boy. You wanna lie.” He said, looking from the door back toward me. “All you had to do was tell me the truth.”

With no warning, the stranger struck me across the jaw; the envenomed knuckles drew blood where the cold metal met skin.

He watched the wound carefully for a moment before clicking his tongue. “No wolfsbane needed. You're just some stupid John she tricked”

—--

Months, no years of work had all come to this night. After I saw that freak of a woman transform into a monster all those years ago, I knew her death was something I would have to see too; not only for the sake of all of humanity, but in the name of very god almighty as well. Man transforming into beasts then gallivanting with creatures from the darkened forest was not natural.

After that first night of seeing her shift by the lake, I was plagued by nightmares, vile curses, and images of her lupine form conspiring to end all of mortal existence. She would whisper with crows for knowledge of weakness, plot with foxes as to who was feeble and weak, and lastly copulate with wolves, birthing armies of creatures just as dark of heart as she and the devil himself.

That is no doubt where her daughter came from. She had no father other than old scratch. It had to be. That woman had no man; it was just her and the girl ten years ago. Now, after I at long last put a bullet into the woman's head, only the daughter remained.

It was no easy task to kill the wife of the devil. Her clean death was the culmination of scouring thousands of tomes, ranging from old journals of monster hunters, paladins, and others brave enough to stand stalwart against the darkness. Many of the solutions within them turned out to be less than effective. To date, I had burned them, shot them with regular guns, blown the mother up with a grenade, and even run them both over, but none of that did anything. Nor did any of my attempts at witchery or sorcerer endeavors. I like to think that was because God simply would not allow such a beacon of a soul to condemn itself to eternal fire, and thus intervened in the winds of magic and prevented me from tainting myself.

What ended up working was something I honestly had disregarded for years. It seemed far too convenient for the solutions that still propagated within modern pulp tales to hold any weight. But after they had sought refuge within Raleigh with another pair of their demon-touched kind, I knew it was true. With no additional ideas, I cast shotgun slugs in silver, dipped my blade in wolfsbane oil, and attacked the shack the four werewolves had hidden in in the wee hours of the morning.

Before the sun had risen, the two Baileys and her mother Mary had dashed away, and two werewolves, my first two slain monsters, lay dead in puddles of their blood. Cuts from wolfsbane sizzling, and entry holes from the 12-gauge slugs burning like magnesium fires.

In silent prayer, I thanked God for my survival that night. In frustration of my years of attempts failing, I had been sloppy. My chest bled from claw marks, and the larger of the two dead monsters had almost bitten my neck. That would have been the end of me, if not for out of sheer reflex I held my blade forward; the beast's weight drove the knife into his blackened heart; the poison oil did the rest of the work.

I had been assured in how I could carry out my god-given task since then. Hundreds of monsters had been left dead in my wake. But Mary, my white whale, had continued to slip through my grasp. Now with her dead, and in the final hours of my hunt, I was given pause. I had run into something I had never expected to find while chasing demons in the dark. A human. A regular human.

He lay beneath me, holding onto his split-open face. I knew he was human. He had to be. The silvered knuckles did not burn him, nor did the wolfsbane infect his body. Confusion welled in my chest, but I could not stop. This man must be in conjunction with the daughter of Satan. He was just as vile as they were. He had to be. Why else would he be harboring the she-beast in his cabin? Either way, such thoughts could not hold him back. Tonight of all nights. When the demon would be blessed by the power of the full moon. The whore dies tonight. And he along with it if it must go that way.

I pulled back my fist, ready to slam it back into the man. But before I could do so, an arc of pain erupted from my groin, as the man viciously drove his foot up into my manhood. My eyes nearly rolled into my head, and I buckled and collapsed to the ground beside the man. I groaned in agony as the man scrambled away from me. Forcing myself to move, I lashed out my hand, shackling his ankle as he reached over the sofa, likely going for that shotgun I saw from peeking in through the window.

With all the might I could, I yanked on the man, bringing him back down. His jaw bounced off the back of the sofa, teeth clattering as he groaned just as loudly as I was. I had to finish this now. Fighting with this man was just wasting my time. He had to die. I drew my knife from my belt and crawled atop him, just as he twisted around and drove an elbow into my side, rattling my body and knocking me back off him.

We both levered to our feet and squared off. I coughed, my lungs still struggling to draw breath. He spat blood on the ground, likely from having bitten his tongue. Without a need for any words, this man and I charged at one another, determined to kill the other. Just as screaming began pouring from the adjacent room.

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