“We paid you to protect the caravans!”

  “Aye, and you can choose that or your life, but chances are we’ll lose both!”

  Val lowered her hand down from the top of the wagon wall to assist another mercenary up it and over their barricade. The man seemed too shell shocked to notice who offered and took it. She lifted him one handed.

  “Luke and Dart are both dead, the pack’s on its way back!” he said with the distant voice of a man who’d already accepted his death.

  Val raised her head to look back down the road, littered with scattered corpses and mud. Most of their Company were dead or had deserted when it was obvious they were outnumbered, a disastrous outcome of their attempt to try and lure the wild-Fae from the wagons. Down the road, she could hear the cackles and whoops of hunting creatures.

  Their captain desperately paced within their shelter, “Quiet! Quiet! I’m thinking.”

  No one had said anything. They were down to eight, three merchants, and what remained of the Company including Val. Their fortifications were their wagons turned sideways and the gaps plugged with the crates they had carried. Val remained straddled on the turned side of the wagon's edge, looking down at the men.

  “Cut the bulls free, lure them away!” suggested one mercenary.

  “We should run!” wailed a merchant.

  “And be hunted one by one?! No, cut the bulls, give them a distraction!”

  “They’re coming.” Val’s short words turned heads to look beyond their fortifications.

  Two wild-Fae bounded around the turn of the road, the one in the front was dragging a man’s torso by the arm, entrails dragging through the mud behind. A mess of hair-like spines down its back and thick tusks distorting its face.The second skittered sideways after, yelping and snarling, limping noticeably.

  Each were vaguely humanoid in their body plan, running on their toes and fists - if they still had fingers. They varied in their form, hooves or padded fingers, claws or scaled talons. Some had thick hides like cattle, others plush fur or scales. On their heads odd mixes of horns and ears, or folds of skin like bats. Always, their faces were flat - and when they snarled - yellowed, square teeth within their mouths.

  The bulls still harnessed to the wagons bellowed with fear and kicked and bucked, shaking their fortifications. Val braced herself one handed as the wagon slid forward in the mud and toppled one pile of crates.

  “Cut the bulls, rebuild the wall!”

  Val hefted her already blood stained axe across one shoulder and dropped over the side of the wagon.

  “You can’t let Hart’s girl go!”

  “What‘s’it matter? We’re all fucking dead now…”

  She slammed her blade down, snapping the central tongue and severing the twisted harnesses freeing the first pair of bulls. The bulls surged loose, crashing sideways against each other still bound by the horns to their yoke. Her feet slipped in the mud as she climbed over the trailing leads.

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  The second set of bulls cried and tossed their heads, seeking to run after the freed pair. Their bucks shook the wagon again, and they dug their hooves in, dragging apart their fortifications to the sound of crashing crates and screaming men. Val tugged on one lead, trying to steady them and leaning back against their weight with her own, bringing the dragging wagon to a halt.

  It was already too late, their fortifications now had a gaping hole, and the bulls' cries had attracted the attention of the pack.

  The two that had played with the torso came first, another six galloping on their heels. Val released the bulls to grip her axe two handed, and swung upwards to send the first Fae flying, split in two across her axe’s blade. Bracing with firm feet, she shifted her weight and came back the other way to crash down on the second Fae, splintering its skull.

  Free of her control, and panicked by the blood, the bulls behind her bolted, tearing the opening wider and dragging the wagon across the road in a great furrow. The reins and harness on the ground snapped taut around Val’s feet, and she slipped to her knees as one foot was tugged out from underneath her.

  Fae leapt on her. Instinctually, she braced her head, turning her cruel horns upon them. The tip of one hooked up beneath the jaw of one Fae and pierced through its cheek, its momentum spearing it halfway down the horn. It screamed and kicked, unable to withdraw.

  The bulls tugged again, and Val completely lost her footing, falling on the kicking Fae face first. The tongue snapped, and the bulls tore free. Blindly she grabbed at its body, feeling herself dragged on her belly along the road and the Fae screaming incoherently as it was dragged after. Holding the creature's shoulders, she rolled and tossed her head, the Fae’s skull came apart with a gruesome pop and she tossed the screeching body aside while its jaw still swung by bloody flesh from her horn. She screamed as the bulls picked up momentum and bounced her over a rock, dragging her further from the wagon with only the sounds of indecipherable yells telling her that the Fae had reached what remained of the company. Her axe was gone, lost when she’d fallen.

  She grasped at a tree trunk, grazing her fingers against the rough bark. She then caught a gnarled root, twisting her wrist into it one handed, and yelped as she held it firm and the jolt of the bulls stopping sent her joints screaming with pain. Her body lifted into the air as the bulls suddenly came to a halt. For a moment they strained, and she could only gasp breathlessly as her hand, shoulder and spine burned with white pain while her body was stretched. Then the lead around her foot snapped, and she collapsed to the ground with a moan of relief.

  Her respite was short lived, and she scrambled to her feet, good hand holding her aching shoulder. With shaking breaths she bolted back to the road.

  What remained of their crew was holding off the creatures with polearms, the long weapons giving them an advantage against so few. As Val cleared the trees, the rest of the pack rounded the corner, cackling and howling with the thrill of the hunt.

  Val watched the captain lower his spear, his skin turning pale and his eyes hollow with the understanding that there was only death.

  And… They didn’t deserve death. Pulled apart and eaten with less respect than pigs and goats taken to slaughter. They treated her with civility because she was Hart’s adopted daughter, and they had given some begrudging respect when she’d shown herself to be a quiet and diligent companion on the road - where strong personalities quickly earned enemies. She could wish to be sheltered under a wing like the new recruits, but that was never for her. It was not hatred, it was just indifference and apathy, difficulty in showing empathy when she looked so different. It did not deserve cruelty in return. No one did, that she earnestly knew.

  Maybe… just maybe, she could distract the Fae.

  She planted both feet, clenched her hands into fists, and bellowed. Taller and broader than a bull elk despite her age, gore dripped down her body and the shattered jaw hung yet from her horn. The Fae paused in fear. When she raised her fists, and began her charge at the pack, fire sparked beneath her boots.

  She had no clear memory of the details of the fight, but she knew she tore the Fae apart with her hands and horns like they had done to innocent men. In her path, and wherever she touched, wildfire followed savage and infectious. It seemed a creature with a life of its own, snaking after her and striking out at the screaming Fae that leapt at her. The air billowed black smoke and reeked of burnt flesh, and the creatures set the underbrush around them ablaze as they fled with furs and hairs streaming flames. The wind fed the fire, and soon it spread - roaring and tall.

  When Val was left standing, covered head to toe in red blood and none of her own black, she was silhouetted by the climbing inferno.