Misty sits beside me and starts the arduous process of cleaning the blood and gore from her fur. Her paw drags down her face in deliberate strokes, and I can’t help but wince in sympathy.

  ‘This was a tough hunt,’ she comments in a dry voice, the faint edge of complaint making me smirk.

  “You have that right, girl,” I say, reaching out to scratch between her ears. Her tail twitches, but I know she’s too tired to pretend she doesn’t enjoy it. My own shoulder aches fiercely as I shift position, rotating it gently to test the damage. “I guess we’ll both have our share of bruises to get over after that.”

  Naomi bends down beside Misty, her small hands gentle as she fusses over the cat. “You were so brave,” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of admiration. Misty’s ear flicks, but she doesn’t protest the attention—a rare moment of indulgence.

  Elara’s voice carries over from behind me, firm but tinged with unease. “Creatures like this shouldn’t be this close to the town. Normally, they’d only be found deeper in the wildlands.” She steps closer, her gaze fixed on the ogre’s hulking corpse. The jagged axe still lies where it fell, its edge slick with blackened blood.

  I grunt in agreement, levering myself to my feet with a wince. “So what’s your guess? Did they get lost, or is something driving them this way?”

  Elara frowns, her brow furrowing as she looks down at the ashfang closest to her. Its spiked hide gleams faintly in the fading light, the deep gouges in its side oozing a viscous, dark fluid. She crouches, her hand hovering above its shoulder as if reluctant to touch it. “These ashfangs were under control,” she says after a moment, her tone thoughtful. “The beastmasters must have been directing them. They’re like hunting wolves when trained, but this…” She trails off, shaking her head.

  “Beastmasters?” I echo, frowning. The term is new to me.

  Elara nods, standing and brushing her hands off. “Among the elves, we have beastmasters who work with birds of prey or great cats. But these hobs… their methods are cruder, more brutal. Still, it’s effective enough.” Her gaze shifts to the jagged wounds on the ashfang. “They were driven to attack. This wasn’t natural.”

  Misty stops mid-cleaning to add her two pence, flicking her tail with a hint of irritation. ‘I’d wager it wasn’t a coincidence. Things like this don’t just happen.’ She fixes me with a pointed look, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. As if I had anything to do with it.

  Naomi pipes up hesitantly, her hands twisting together. “Why would they come here? Is something chasing them?”

  The question lands heavily, and I exchange a glance with Elara. She doesn’t dismiss it outright, which is worrying enough.

  “Could be,” I admit finally. “But we can’t jump to conclusions yet. Let’s see if the bodies tell us anything useful first.”

  The air grows heavier as we begin the grim task of examining the remains. Elara focuses on the ogre, her hands tracing faint markings on its leathery skin. “These… they’re not natural,” she murmurs. “Runes, maybe. Or something older.”

  “Great,” I mutter. “Runes on a giant murder machine. Just what we needed.”

  Misty pads over, sniffing at the ashfangs with cautious disdain. ‘These smell… wrong. More than usual. Like something else got to them first.’ She pauses, then sneezes violently, retreating with a disgusted huff.

  Elara straightens, her face pale but determined. “Whatever it is, it’s not random. We need to keep moving and report this when we reach Hybern.”

  “Agreed,” I say, glancing at Naomi, who’s hovering close to Misty. Her wide eyes meet mine, and I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Let’s get going.”

  With that, we gather our things and set off. As we leave, I glance back at the cairn, the pile of stones glinting faintly in the fading light. A weight settles in my chest—grief mixed with the grim satisfaction of having done what we could. Turning forward, I adjust my pack and fall into step with the others. The oppressive silence of the clearing gives way to the crunch of boots and paws on the dirt road. The journey ahead feels heavier now, the unease from the battle lingering like a shadow over us all.

  Returning to the fork in the road feels both familiar and grim. The wagon sits just as we left it, its charred frame leaning precariously into the ditch. The bodies of the fallen remain cloaked where we left them, their forms still and haunting against the darkened backdrop of scorched earth and ash.

  I pause, taking in the sight. It’s quieter now, the oppressive sense of pursuit finally gone. Misty pads ahead, her movements cautious, sniffing the air with sharp deliberation.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Elara steps up beside me, her gaze lingering on the wagon. “We should finish this,” she says quietly. “They deserve more than this place.”

  I nod, rolling my shoulder to ease the ache before pulling the spade from my pack. “Naomi,” I call gently. “Can you gather some stones from the treeline? We’ll need them for a cairn.”

  Naomi hesitates, her eyes flitting to the cloaked forms. I can see the reluctance in her small frame, but Misty pads over to her, rubbing against her leg and then trotting towards the treeline. Naomi follows hesitantly, gathering stones under Misty’s watchful guidance.

  Elara kneels by the nearest body, her hands deft but respectful as she checks for anything identifying. "No crests," she mutters, frowning. "The armour is well-made, but I can’t tell where it’s from." She glances at the wagon, then shakes her head. "This wasn’t banditry—the hobs must have attacked, but why they’d target this group is a mystery."

  “Maybe just a case of bad timing?” I question with a grunt, as I put effort into my task. “This could all have been just bloody bad luck.”

  I focus on digging, the spade biting into the hard-packed soil. It’s slow work, but the rhythm steadies me, grounding me in the task. Each shovelful feels like lifting a weight off my chest, even as the pit deepens.

  Misty circles the wagon, her tail flicking in agitation. ‘No sign of scavengers yet,’ she reports, sniffing the air. ‘But it won’t stay that way for long.’

  Naomi returns, her arms full of stones, and sets them down carefully beside the growing pile. “Good job,” I tell her, offering a small smile. She doesn’t smile back, but she nods, her focus on the task as she starts arranging the stones with Misty’s quiet guidance.

  Elara moves to the wagon next, her hands skimming over the scorched wood. "The fire might have started during the attack—maybe they tried to use torches to fend off the ashfangs. It’s hard to tell." Her tone carries frustration as she examines the damage. "There’s just no rational reason for the attack.”

  I grimace, the puzzle sitting heavy in my gut. “Let’s get this done,” I say, my voice gruffer than I intend. “The sooner we’re away from this place, the better.”

  Together, we lift the bodies into the grave, working in silence but with care. When the last one is laid to rest, Naomi steps forward with a handful of wildflowers she must have picked along the way. She places them atop the bodies before I fill the hole and we begin piling the stones into place, forming a cairn that will stand against scavengers and time.

  When the work is done, I step back, wiping the sweat from my brow and planting the spade into the earth. “Elara?”

  She raises her hands, her voice lifting in a soft, melodic prayer. The elven words carry on the breeze, filling the clearing with a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

  Misty sits beside Naomi, her tail curling around her paws. ‘They’ll rest easier now,’ she says quietly. ‘And so will we.’

  I nod, my eyes lingering on the cairn. “Let’s move. Hybern’s waiting, and this road isn’t getting any safer.”

  The sun sinks below the horizon as we trudge onward, the faint glow of twilight giving way to the soft embrace of night. The air grows cooler, carrying the scent of damp earth and far-off woodsmoke. Shadows stretch long and uneven across the road, their shapes dancing with the flicker of fireflies.

  Naomi clings to my back, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck as I carry her piggyback. She’s been fighting sleep, but the rhythmic jostle of my steps has finally lulled her into a light doze. Misty pads beside us, her eyes sharp even in the dim light, while Elara walks a few paces ahead, her bow slung over her shoulder, her sharp eyes scanning the road ahead.

  “This road feels different at night,” I say quietly, more to myself than anyone else. “Like it’s holding its breath.”

  Elara glances back, her features softened by the glow. “The world always feels heavier after blood is spilled,” she replies. “But the town isn’t far now. We’ll be safe soon.”

  I grunt in agreement, though my eyes scan the edges of the road for movement. The night has a way of playing tricks, and I don’t trust it not to throw another surprise our way.

  As we crest a small rise, the faint outline of Hybern’s walls comes into view. Torches line the battlements, their flickering light promising safety but also the challenge of convincing the guards to let us in after dark.

  When we reach the gates, Misty lets out a soft growl, her ears flicking back. “Quiet,” I murmur, shifting Naomi’s weight on my back. Elara steps forward, drawing her dagger to rap its hilt against the heavy wood of the gate.

  “Who goes there?” a voice calls from above, sharp and suspicious.

  “Travellers,” Elara replies, her voice calm but firm. “We’ve been on the road too long and need shelter for the night. We mean no harm.”

  The guard leans forward, his torch casting long shadows across his face. “It’s late. The gates are closed until dawn.”

  Elara lifts her chin, her voice steady and commanding. “We would have arrived earlier, but we found a burned-out wagon on the road.” Her voice is tired. “We were delayed laying the dead to rest. Now, do you really mean to leave a child out here in the dark with what’s roaming these roads?”

  The guard hesitates, his eyes flicking to Naomi, still clinging to me. “A child, you say?”

  “She’s exhausted,” I add, my voice low but carrying. “We all are. Please.”

  Muffled voices drift from above, the guards clearly debating the matter. One voice rises sharply, met by a curt reply, and then silence. The moments stretch, tension pulling tight. Finally, the heavy creak of the gate begins, and the iron hinges groan in protest.

  “Be quick about it,” the guard calls down. “And don’t bring any trouble inside.”

  Elara nods in thanks, and we slip through the opening just wide enough to admit us. The gates slam shut behind us, sealing the night away.

  “You will need to report to the watch captain in the morning,” the burly guard tells us. “He will want details of this attack you spoke of.”

  Giving a simple nod, we walk from the gate. The warmth of Hybern’s streets wraps around us like a blanket, and for the first time in hours, I feel my shoulders begin to relax.

  “Let’s find somewhere to rest,” I murmur, shifting Naomi’s weight again. Exploring can wait for tomorrow.