The fork sits tantalisingly before us, framed by the remnants of recent violence. The wagon’s scorched shell looms like a skeletal sentinel, a grim reminder of whatever had attacked the group. We hastily cover the bodies of the guards with their own tattered cloaks, shielding Naomi’s gaze from the sight but doing little to hide the metallic tang in the air—a mix of blood and char. Misty’s ears twitch, her amber eyes scanning the ground. She pads ahead, her tail flicking like a metronome of agitation.

  To the right, the road to Hybern lies well-trodden and clear, the safe, logical choice. But it’s the other path—a faint trail veering into the undergrowth, barely more than a whisper against the landscape—that gnaws at my attention. Tracks mar the dirt, subtle indentations visible only when Misty stops to sniff and glances back at me with a pointed flick of her whiskers.

  ‘You see them, don’t you?’ Her voice filters into my mind, a mix of amusement and challenge. ‘Not bad for you. Well, not entirely bad.’

  “I see them,” I murmur, crouching to examine the disturbed earth. At first, the tracks seem like little more than random scuffs, but as I trace the lines with my eyes, a pattern emerges. Deep impressions suggest boots, but others… others look more like claws. A chill crawls up my spine. “Not exactly encouraging.”

  “What do you see?” Elara asks, stepping closer. Her tone is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of tension in her words. She’s scanning the treeline, her bow ready in her grip.

  “Trouble,” I reply, straightening. “Looks like a mix of tracks. Some human, maybe, but others… I’m not sure.”

  Naomi approaches cautiously, her wide eyes darting between the tracks and the burnt wagon. “Should I scout ahead? I could—”

  “No,” Elara interrupts firmly. “Not after what happened back at the farm. You’ve pushed yourself enough for one week.”

  “But I can help!” Naomi protests, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m not a baby—”

  “She’s right,” I interject gently, catching Naomi’s gaze. “You’ve been through a lot. We need you at your best, not burning yourself out. We can handle this.”

  She exhales sharply, frustration etched across her face, but she steps back, conceding the point. Elara places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, offering a small, calming smile.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Elara asks, turning her attention back to me. Her eyes are steady, waiting.

  I look between the paths, weighing the decision like so many choices before—each one fraught with the potential for disaster. The right path is the smart one—the safe one. Hybern is where we need to be, and every delay risks more danger. But those tracks… they present a threat.

  ‘This is getting to be a bit too much of a habit,’ I chide myself.

  ‘Stop whining, Del. It’s a simple choice.’

  I sigh at that thought, even though it’s true enough.

  ‘Why does it have to be us?’ The thought surfaces unbidden, bitter and sharp. “We could just keep going,” I say aloud, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m trying to convince.

  ‘Cowardice or common sense?’ My inner voice sneers, mocking me in the same way it has for years. ‘Let someone else deal with it. To not be responsible?’

  “It’s not that simple,” I mutter under my breath.

  ‘Talking to yourself again?’ Misty’s voice carries a thread of teasing, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it. ‘Careful, Del. You’re outnumbered in there.’

  I smirk despite myself. “Very funny.”

  Elara tilts her head. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I reply, brushing off the moment. “Just thinking.”

  ‘Thinking or hiding?’ my inner voice presses. ‘You know why you’re hesitating. It’s because you’re scared. Scared you’ll get them hurt.’

  I clench my fists, forcing the voice to quiet. This isn’t about fear. It’s about doing what’s right. “If we leave this, whoever did it might hit someone else. Joel’s farm. Another traveller. Maybe even Hybern itself.”

  Elara nods slowly. “But if we follow, we’re walking into the unknown. We don’t know their numbers, their strength, or their motives. Naomi’s already vulnerable. Are we prepared to take that risk?”

  “We’re never prepared,” I admit. “But we can’t just walk away.”

  ‘He’s finally making a decision,’ Misty quips, her tail curling as she circles back to us. ‘Yay, go you, Del.’ A chuckle seems to escape in her purr.

  “We’ll move carefully,” I say, my voice firmer now. “Misty, you’ll scout ahead. Keep low, keep quiet. Elara, you’ve got our backs. Naomi, stick close to Elara. If things go south, you run. No arguments.”

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  Naomi hesitates but nods. Elara glances at me, a flicker of approval in her eyes, and steps forward. “Then let’s get moving.”

  The faint trail winds through the undergrowth, growing more oppressive with every step. The air is heavy here, thick with the scent of decay and damp earth. Misty leads, her movements fluid and silent, a ghost among the shadows. Every so often, she glances back, her golden eyes meeting mine as if gauging my resolve.

  The tracks grow clearer as we push deeper. Deep gouges in the soil suggest heavy loads dragged through, while occasional splashes of dark stains—dried blood—mark the attackers’ path. My stomach churns, but I press on.

  ‘Keep it together, watch that twig. Damn, Del. You are as clumsy as a damned elephant. No wonder Misty has a go at you so much.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ I snap at my inner critic.

  Elara glances at me but says nothing, her expression unreadable.

  I grip the hilt of my sword, feeling the cool metal steady my hand. ‘Focus. One step at a time.’

  The trail leads us to a clearing, where the trees part to reveal a crude campsite. Ashen remnants of a fire smoulder faintly, and scattered around it are scraps of food and broken weapons. The tracks converge here, fanning out in multiple directions.

  ‘They were here recently,’ Misty reports, her nose twitching as she sniffs the air. ‘Not far. Maybe an hour, no more.’

  Misty inspects the camp, her nose twitching as she sniffs at a blood-smeared blade, then recoils with a low growl. ‘Not human. This blood is from the men at the wagon. But these—’ her amber eyes scan the camp’s perimeter, her fur bristling. ‘Not-goblins. Like them, but… not.’

  “We’re close,” I say, my voice low. “Stay sharp. Misty tells me they are some sort of not-goblin,” I study the tracks, my brows furrowed. “That’s how she described whatever made this camp.”

  Naomi shifts nervously, her hands clenching the hem of her tunic. Elara places a steadying hand on her arm, offering silent reassurance. The air is taut with anticipation, every sound amplified—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird, the crackle of dying embers.

  Misty suddenly freezes, her fur bristling. ‘Something’s watching us.’

  I follow her gaze, scanning the treeline, but see nothing. The shadows seem to stretch and shift, playing tricks on my eyes. My grip tightens on the sword hilt, and I take a step forward.

  “Del,” Elara warns softly, her bow glowing faintly in her hand. “Careful.”

  The voice in my head whispers again, but this time, it’s not taunting. It’s a simple truth: ‘Whatever comes next, you can’t afford to falter.’

  I exhale slowly, nodding to myself. “All right,” I murmur. “Let’s see what’s out there.”

  The moment stretches, taut as a bowstring. Then, the forest explodes into chaos.

  Shadows burst from the underbrush, yowling and snarling as they close in on us. Misty bolts ahead, her body shifting mid-leap, growing larger and more powerful. Her feline grace becomes something feral, deadly. I barely have time to react before something lunges from the side—a mass of muscle and teeth. An ashfang. Its red-tinged eyes lock onto me, hunger burning in its gaze.

  I dodge instinctively, feeling the rush of air as its claws rake the space where my chest had been moments before. My sword blade slices upward as the creature spins back for another attack. The edge catches its shoulder, and it yelps, retreating just enough for me to slash forward, the edge slicing deeply into the creature’s neck.

  “Misty!” I shout, though I can barely see her. She’s already tangled with another ashfang, her claws flashing like silver in the dim light. Blood sprays, and the beast howls, collapsing as she springs off its back and disappears into the undergrowth.

  “Del, move!” Elara’s voice rings out behind me, an arrow whistling past my ear and embedding itself into the chest of a shadowy figure lunging toward us. A sickening crunch accompanies its collapse. But there’s no time to look back. Another ashfang crashes through the brush, snapping its jaws at my legs.

  I lurch sideways, stumbling over a root and barely managing to stay upright. ‘Clumsy as ever,’ I think bitterly, slashing at the creature’s flank as it closes in. The blade bites deep, and it drops with a guttural final snarl as the air rushes from its eviscerated lungs.

  ‘Faster, Del!’ Misty’s voice cuts into my mind, sharp and urgent. ‘They can’t get away or they may circle back to the others.’

  I push forward, crashing through the undergrowth, uncaring of the noise as I hunt down the last of our attackers. Branches whip at my face and snag my clothing, but I don’t stop. Misty’s form flickers ahead of me, leading the way like a shadow given life.

  A quick glance around shows me that Elara and Naomi stayed behind, hopefully safer back at the camp than we are in this frenzy.

  Then I see them—figures darting between the trees. They’re humanoid but wrong. Too hunched, too quick. Glimpses of green skin and jagged teeth flash in the dim light, and guttural snarls echo through the forest. Not-goblins, Misty called them. Whatever they are, they’re closing in.

  One lunges from the side, brandishing a crude weapon—a club studded with shards of bone. I barely parry in time, the impact jarring my arm to the elbow. It screeches, saliva flying from its maw, and swings again. This time I duck, kicking out at its knee. The thing crumples with a scream, as I finish it with a slash from my dagger. But another takes its place almost instantly, its yellow eyes gleaming with malice.

  I lash out wildly, my blade slicing into its side, and it falls back, shrieking. But the momentum carries me forward, stumbling after Misty, who’s already ripping out the gut of another.

  ‘Kill faster, Del!’ she snaps, her voice tinged with both irritation and urgency.

  Another ashfang barrels out of the underbrush, snapping at my heels. I whirl, slamming the hilt of my sword into its skull. It reels, dazed, and I take the opportunity to pierce its throat, my lungs burning with the effort. The undergrowth tears at my legs, and my vision swims as I push harder, desperate to catch up to Misty.

  For the briefest moment, the surrounding trees are quiet. Breathing hard, we push on.

  Then the forest changes.

  The trees part into a clearing, and the air grows thick and heavy, almost suffocating. At first, I think the chase is over, that maybe we’ve dealt with them. But then the ground shakes—a rhythmic, thunderous vibration that sends a chill down my spine.

  “Misty?” I call out, panting, but she’s already crouched low, her fur bristling. Her eyes are fixed ahead, where the trees on the far side of the clearing tremble as something massive pushes through.

  It steps into the light, and my stomach drops.

  The creature towers above, nearly twice the size of a man. Its leathery grey skin ripples with unnatural strength, muscles taut as coiled rope. A grotesque snarl twists its features, tusks protruding from a heavy jaw that drips with spittle. Its eyes burn faintly yellow, sickly and malevolent. In one hand, it grips a jagged axe, its edge stained dark with dried blood. The other brandishes a crude wooden shield, its surface scored with deep gouges.

  The thing raises its head and roars, the sound shredding the stillness and carving terror into my bones.