Zeke hid himself behind the trunk as he saw the invaders in the Fierce Forest walking Kip along, presumably back to their camp. One of them, the human with a bow on his back, swiveled his head. Zeke dropped further down the trunk. His fingers ached as he held to the fiber. The sweetness of the dried sap inside the dreadwood gave him a headache. He paid attention to the scuttling and riff raff between the party as they walked their prisoner.

  “He’s a baby,” Said one of them.

  “That’s called veal. Delicacy!” Said a gruff voice.

  “That's dark, Klaad. Even for me.” Said a third.

  “So you don’t want any of the meat?” Klaad asked.

  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want to watch you prepare it.”

  Zeke climbed sideways along the trunk until he was able to safely dismount from the tree. He cringed as his feet crunched the leaves on the floor. Stealth was not his forte, no matter how many games of Hide and Zeke* they played.

  Zeke peered over the side of the desiccated roots. There were three humans, and one big human. Really big. Taller than Zeke was at the time and more muscles too. Were Zeke one for study he would know this to be a jatte. jatte were humans with giant blood running through them. They lived in the mountains and often only came down to trade rare furs. The average jatte was about 9 to 10 feet tall. This jatte was at least 12 feet.

  Zeke’s breath quickened, he was growing anxious. His heart was racing and his vision was blurring. He needed to settle. Zeke thought back to Bodhi’s training. He breathed in for four seconds, held for four more, and let out for six seconds. It was an old trick used to temper the heart. He did it again, and again. To further steady himself, he placed his palms on the trunk of the tree. “Scared is dumb,” Bohdi used to tell him, “And you’re plenty dumb already,” Bodhi would add. “Just lean on the training.” Zeke thought, “You encounter a foreign party. What’s the first thing you do? Assess. Hide. You’re outnumbered. Play smart. As smart as you can, Zeke, you stupid… Okay,. I don’t have to quote Bodhi exactly.”

  “Classes,” Zeke said to himself, “What classes do these look like?”

  Three humans. One of them had a staff. A long living elm branch and a bird’s nest at the end of it. A crow happily cooed while sitting on it, and the user was calm while careful of their steps while walking.

  “Magic user. Nature? Let’s say druid or wizard for now.”

  The next person had a long bow and wore green.

  “Ranger. He’ll be the first to see me coming.”

  The third user was dressed in black and wore a hood over them. As far as Zeke could see they had two curved knives tucked in their cumberbund.

  “Don’t lose track of the rogue. Then we have the big guy.”

  The jatte. He had a large battle axe that was the size of his body.

  “Let’s say… Knight. Fighter of some kind anyway. Probably doesn’t have magic.”

  Zeke looked around, how far had he strayed from the village? How far had he run? The old bar was already off the beaten path and he ran further into the forest. How long would he go before he could find some help, either a powerful creature or a magic user or a guard? All depended on how long Kip had before they cooked him.

  “Four versus one.” Even Zeke knew those were bad odds.

  He crept far behind the troupe. Moving slower than them. Staying behind trees every time he saw the rogue or ranger’s head turn.

  The jatte pulled Kip by the long string he’d fixed to his leather belt. Kip could not keep up with the beast’s long strides and would often fall and slide along the ground before the druid would pick him up.

  Zeke saw the camp up ahead. They had likely taken defensive measures with their camp. Booby traps and such. It would have been a better decision strategically to get to them before camp. That did not occur to Zeke. He thought a different way, that if he let them get to the camp, they would feel more at home, they’d slump their shoulders and rest their laurels. This was dumb.

  The jatte pulled out a big pot, just big enough for Kip to crawl into.

  “We boil, yes! You know boil? Bubble bubble?!” Said the jatte.

  Kip cried.

  Zeke thought, “Plan?”. He was against a ranger, rogue, druid, and a fighter. It was an eclectic mix of parties, where each one had a distinct job.

  “You could… then maybe you could… okay… how about?” Zeke wasn’t a thinker. At that moment, he was more of a panicker.

  He grabbed his horns nervously as he thought to himself. “I can’t see this again. I can’t fight. I’m not a fighter. I’m… I’m not.”

  He looked back. The jatte was getting a cutting board out. He pointed at the board and then at Kip. Then the jatte did a cutting motion.

  “You! You, head off. Yes? You understand? Eaten! Nam, nam!”

  “He understands,” muttered the druid.

  Kip was going to be lunch and the only person that could do anything about it was Zeke. Zeke placed his hands on the branches of a tree, needing to ground himself again. He held tightly. Trying not to think about how these four people were going to have his good old buddy for a snack.

  Zeke squeezed so hard he broke the two thick branches. The snapping sounded off all the way to the camp. The ranger turned. He scanned the treeline and somehow missed the one tree where two steer horns were sticking out the other side.

  The ranger turned back at Kip, hungry for some real meat, “So how are we going to season it?”

  “Salt and cumin! In my country, we cut off head and ferment in ground for eighteen days!”

  “Disgusting. Let’s just make stew.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Kip started crying again.

  “Shut him up, please!” Said the rogue, “He’s calling attention to us.”

  The druid kneeled down, “Hey, don’t worry! Don’t worry, young one. We won’t hurt you. I’m going to make sure of it,” The druid placed her hand on the kobold’s shoulder. It reassured him just a little, his crying waned down to a whimper and some sniffles.

  The druid turned around and whispered to the jatte, “I’m not cruel. Make sure you kill him quickly and painlessly. Or you’ll have my ire.”

  “Not your ire, Idika! I shall do as asked.”

  Zeke sweated profusely as he abandoned any hope of coming up with a good plan. Instead, he thought of reasons to fight. He had plenty. He needed to save Kip. Kip, the little level 0 kobold, hadn't even joined the Dark Lord’s system yet.

  Zeke breathed in and out. He remembered what Bodhi had told him. He was the sheepdog. His eyes went to the thick broken branches he’d torn off. Whether or not he wanted it, he was to use his strength. He needed to protect the sheep. Zeke pretended Kip was a sheep. Big puffs of white soft fur surrounded him, his tiny horns long and curled. He pictured Kip bleating like a sheep does.

  Zeke had no option. He had to do this whether he wanted to or not. So he might as well want to.

  Zeke’s mouth exacted a smile. Everything he knew about the war flipped in his head. It was not a terribly awful hideous time. He was happy he was strong enough to survive it. He was happy he was strong enough to help Kip. Feeling strong felt pretty good.

  Zeke turned and booked it toward the camp, “HEY!”

  The four party members turned to the young minotaur.

  “MInotaur!?” Screamed out the ranger, “What the hell is a minotaur doing in the forests?”

  “He wants our lunch,” The jatte said as he stared at Kip.

  “Get ready for a whole lotta THUNDEERRRRR!” Zeke ran headfirst toward the big bloke. The druid grabbed her staff cast a fire blast on Zeke. The orange spell hit him square in the chest. He took a step back. His chest hair singed and emanated a musty smell. He patted his chest until the fire quelled. He was still a distance away from all of them. The rogue had already disappeared.

  “I said... Here comes the THundAAAA!” Zeke ran forward. The party exchanged glances. Zeke clipped a tripwire and a mace head released from its hiding spot in the branches aboves and slammed into Zeke’s back.

  “Oof!” Zeke turned around, the spikes had entered his tough hide, “That smarts.”

  The jatte picked up his great axe, readying it behind his head and stepping closer.

  “Thundaaa!!” Zeke got up and ran again. His foot landed on the false bottom of a pile of leaves. He stepped into the divot and he tripped. He landed in front of the jatte, who’s axe was excited to drop.

  “Thun… Oh frick.” The jatte brought his axe down. Zeke swung his head, the tip of his horn made contact with the flat of the falling axehead and he pushed it away so it missed his skull.

  “Missed me,” He said with a smirk. The party stared at him in abject confusion, “What? You missed me, don’t feel too bad about it.”

  “Well… No we didn’t.” The jatte pointed at the end of his axe. Zeke turned to find the large axe head dug deeply into his shoulder blade.

  “Oh. I guess you didn’t,” Said Zeke, he thrust his foot to kick the jatte’s legs. The jatte lost his grip on the axe and fell. The ranger took several steps back, knocking his arrow to his bow, “Idika!! Move out of the way of my arrow.”

  “I got him,” Said Idika. She stuck up her staff, it powered up, glowing orange again. Zeke got up and walked toward her. Druidika launched another fire bolt at him. Square in the chest again. Zeke took a step back, but he trudged forward.

  Idika hit him again. Zeke was ready. He placed his center of gravity in front of his hips and bull rushed the druid, who hit him with two more pitiful blasts. He tanked the shots and as the staff glew again, Zeke pushed the end out of the way. The errant blast hit the adventurer’s tent behind them.

  “Now I got you-” The rogue landed on the minotaur’s shoulders and stabbed Zeke with his knives into the minotaur’s clavicle. Zeke hollered in pain, “AHHH! I LOST TRACK OF THE ROGUE!” Zeke grabbed the rogue’s cumberbund and chucked him off. The rogue rolled on the ground, got up and stepped forward, leaping up and disappearing back into the forest.

  “Lost him again,” muttered Zeke to himself. He felt a pinch on his back. He reached over and felt the wood of an arrow had entered him. He turned around and there was the ranger, knocking another arrow. He charged the ranger. The ranger took a snake out of his quiver.

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Straight as an arrow!” The ranger cried.

  The snake straightened and stuck its fangs out, acting as an arrow. The ranger knocked the snake and launched it. Zeke stuck his hands up and the snake launched directly into his forearm, the teeth sinking in and delivering venom.

  “Deadly, I’m afraid,” Said the ranger.

  “For you.”

  “Could kill a… could kill a three-headed…… you’re still standing.”

  “Yeah, I’m walking toward you too.” Said Zeke as he approached.

  The ranger reached into his quiver and pulled out another snake.

  “Straight as a… Oh dear,” Zeke ripped the snake’s head from the ranger’s hand. He grabbed the ranger and plunged the outstretched fangs into the ranger’s neck. The ranger died instantly.

  “ZEKE!” Cried tiny Kip, “The big guy!”

  Kip pointed behind Zeke. The jatte tackled Zeke to the ground, “My axe!” Said The jatte as he reached for the long handle of his great axe.

  As the jatte reached for his handle, Zeke grabbed the jatte’s wrist.

  “Nuh uh, finders keepers.” Zeke pulled the hatte’s hand, and placed his hooves on the jatte’s chest, then reverse somersaulted and tossed the jatte. Zeke got up and grabbed the axe handle, pulling it out of his shoulder. Blood spurted from the open wound but Zeke didn’t notice.

  Lil Kip waddled over with his manacles on to the fanny pack that the druid had taken, “Uhm, excuse me. Sorry. I’m just going to reach in for a minute. Don’t mind me. He dug through it and found the automatic lock picker he made. He placed the drill into his manacles and clicked. That pumped the thin strip of metal and raked all the pins inside the tumbler. The manacles fell to the ground. Kip rubbed his wrists as he saw the rogue bounding through the canopy of trees to directly above Zeke.

  “The rogue!” Kip pointed.

  The rogue came down on Zeke just as he was looking up.

  “This time I won’t miss!” Said the rogue as his legs interlocked with Zeke’s shoulders. The rogue placed both his hands on his dagger and plunged it into Zeke’s skull. It bounced off. The rogue looked at the tip, it had been chipped off. The rogue threw the dull knife at Kip as the kobold dug through his bag.

  “Woah! The kid’s off limits!” Said Zeke has punched the rogue in the face. The rogue's body went limp. Even though consciousness had begun draining, the hooded man’s legs still locked on. He hung off Zeke’s back as his upside down vision saw Kip ready his arm.

  “Pepper bomb!” Kip chucked a bomb and it exploded with chili pepper seed mixed with mustard powder. The deadly concoction affected the rogue’s nose and mouth. He grabbed at his face and fell to the ground, writhing trying to get the horrid affectation out of his senses.

  Kip ran into one of the tents.

  The jatte was up again. He was bigger than Zeke but sans weapon. He did, however, see some leverage, poking out of the tent. Kip’s tiny tail wriggled through the tent door. The jatte moved past Zeke as the minotaur kicked the rogue in the chest, sending him flying. The jatte reached in toward the tail.

  “Poor little drak, where are you, I wonder? Could you be right… here?!”

  The large man grabbed the tail and pulled.

  He looked down at the tail that had been wriggling. It was attached to a mechanical device that acted as a motor. The gruff voice rang out behind him, and the jatte knew he was done for.

  “Tail bomb.” Zeke said. And with that, he drove the giant axe down on the jatte. The blade entered the jatte’s skull and the life left his eyes. The giant man slumped downward defeated. Zeke stared down at the dead body. He wanted to cry. He wanted to look at his hands and see the destruction he’d done. But instead, he forced his quivering mouth into a smile. He had done it, he had saved Kip.

  “You’re a freak!” Said the druid as she hoisted her rogue over her shoulder, “You’re a freak of nature!”

  “Yeah,” Zeke said, smiling at both of them, “Tell everyone. Tell everyone that the freak defeated you. And tell them that this land is under the freak’s protection! You can send your worse and I’ll send them back to you in a coffin.”

  The two party members left alive turned, a look of pure terror as they escaped. Leaving Zeke to tend to his heinous injuries, the smile he’d concocted never faltering.

  *Zeke insisted on calling it Hide and Zeke even when it was his turn to hide.

  Follow To Earn A Bonus Chapter:

  Touch Azami's Hand To Read 6 Weeks Ahead: