He woke to his usual morning routine, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filling the quiet as he sharpened his tools, which included his axe, and his knives. The familiar sound was a ritual, one that calmed him every morning since they got here, a small semblance of control in a strange world that was filled with madness. It made him feel like…
Everything was right with the world. Even though he was just being delusional.
And he couldn't even blame himself.
The past few days had been strenuous, but peaceful, if such a thing still existed in this forsaken land. And he would take that fragile peace over the relentless fighting for his life, over stepping foot into that evil forest ever again.
Every time he had entered that cursed place, he had felt death breathing down his neck, its cold fingers brushing against his fur, whispering promises of an end he wasn't ready to meet.
He wasn't even wrong. The forest had nearly killed him more than once, its very air thick with malice, its shadows writhing with unseen horrors. It was just madness lurking in every shadow. And unfortunately today, was the day he had to go back in.
Alone.
Femi's fear grew as he contemplated facing the forest's dangers without the assuring, presence of varga at his back, heck even the other other Krags would do. Why did it have to be him by himself? Even as Varga had assured him that the snares close to their new camp were relatively safe, she had still warned him to stay vigilant.
Her words echoed in his mind, sharp and unyielding.
"Then forest is still dangerous," she had said, her emerald eyes boring into him. "One can still die from any direction." She had pointed out Eri's sudden appearance as an example, her voice laced with grim certainty.
Her warning only made his fears worse.
Now, standing at the threshold of the treeline, every rustle of leaves, every distant snap of a branch sent his pulse racing. The memory of his previous close calls, the Eri's gnashing teeth, the way the forest itself seemed to twist around him, made his unease all too real. If something happened now, there'd be no one to help him. No one to watch his back.
Why did it have to be him alone?
But what could he do? The Krags had been treating him better since the incident, their usual sneers replaced with grudging nods. But that didn't mean he could slack off. Varga would never excuse him from work, no matter how much he dreaded it.
A ridiculous thought crossed his mind. Maybe if he put on his best chubby baby impression… he mused, half-seriously. She might laugh, might even spare him for today, but how long would that last?
Lately, she'd been relentless in her training, drilling survival into him with grim determination. "So you don't die a worthless death in that accursed forest," she had said, her voice a low growl. The weight of her words settled in his chest like a stone.
With a sigh, he muttered, "I'd better get this over with."
As if summoned by his reluctance, Varga appeared around the corner of the old house, her boots crunching on the snow with deliberate, heavy steps. She had been looking for him, and now she had finally found him. Arms planted on her hips, she fixed him with a suspicious stare.
"Femi,"she called, her voice sharp. "It's time."
Why that look? He thought, displeased by her suspicious gaze. It wasn't like he was purposely hiding from her, he just hadn't made himself easy to find. Just in case she might send him off to his possible death in the forest.
With a grumbling sigh, he hopped down from the big rock he'd been sitting on, the cold bite of the morning air nipping at his fur. He shot her a sidelong glance as he suddenly remembered something.
Wait o she called me her spoils once, a creature she now considered hers. A 'hound'.
So was all this training just hound training? He wondered to himself.
-----
Varga studied him as he trudged toward her, his reluctance evident in every step. The elders had spoken of ratfolk as cowardly, stupid things, barely smarter than goblins, weak unless they were swarming, their only advantage being their ability to reproduce.
She had taken him at first for his race's traits. A ratling's nose was sharp, their reflexes quick. A living tool. A hound, easily disposable.
Yet Femi wasn't what she'd expected.
At first, she'd dismissed his flinching at shadows, his endless complaints, as weakness. But now? She saw it for what it was, caution. And his mind was sharp, filled with stories that carried a weight of wisdom far beyond what one would expect from his kind. Knowledge that made him seem… older. Different.
Femi fell into step beside her as they moved toward the camp's edge, his shoulders tense despite his calm demeanor. She remained quiet, but her gaze lingered on him as she continued with her thoughts.
He had proven his courage against the Eri, not with brute strength like the others of her kind, but with cunning. Something most Krags would not have considered. She certainly hadn't. She had thought herself different from the rest, yet she had fought the creature head-on, recklessly, and had gotten many under her command killed.
Most of the Krags had given her credit for the win, since Femi was hers, and she had landed the killing blow. But she knew the truth, the fight had already been decided. They would all have been dead if not for him.
He had no reason to come back, yet he did. And not only had he returned, but it was because of him that they had survived. She didn't know how to feel about any of it. The only thing she was certain of was the debt she owed. And the best way she knew to repay it was to teach him everything she knew about survival.
------
Femi sighed as they reached the camp's edge. Around them, Krags hammered in stakes still building up new louging for the many Krags still roof less. While some sparred in the snow, their grunts and the clash of steel filling the air. But as they moved further away, the noise began to fade, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the forest.
Neither he nor Varga spoke.
He stepped forward, away from Varga, his fingers twitching toward his belt, checking his knife, his rope, his flint, all still there. Not that their presence eased the knot in his stomach.
Behind him, Varga's stare prickled against his back like a physical weight. He glanced over his shoulder, she hadn't moved. Still as a sentinel, arms crossed, watching.
Femi gulped.
He sighed, "Ah, let's get this done." Moving away from her, he stepped onto the forest path.
Under Varga's unblinking stare, Femi crept toward the tree line. His claws dug into his palms as he pushed through the first curtain of brush, branches scraping his arms like grasping fingers. One step. Then another.
He shouldn't look back.
He shouldn't look back.
He looked back.
"She still dey look," he whispered to himself in frustration.
Varga was still staring at his back, unmoving.
He had no choice but to continue forward, deeper into the woods, until she was no longer in sight.
Now, he was truly alone.
The forest pressed in around him, its silence thick and suffocating. It felt like any second now, something would burst from the undergrowth and devour him whole.
The thought made him even more paranoid. For weeks, he'd been safely surrounded by Krags, their hulking forms a constant barrier between him and the forest's horrors. Now, only rustling leaves and his own ragged breathing kept him company.
A twig snapped.
Femi whirled, axe already in his hands before his mind registered the movement. His claws dug into the worn handle as his ears swiveled wildly. Something was coming. Something hungry. Something..
Silence.
Minutes stretched as he stood frozen, muscles taut. He could feel every breathe, he took. The camp's safety called to him like a siren song, just a short sprint away.
But Varga's mocking glare burned brighter in his imagination than any forest terror. "Ran back empty-handed like a suckling pup, did you?" He could already see her lip curling.
Gritting his teeth, Femi forced himself forward. The snares weren't far. He just had to-
Another crackle of foliage.
Then Silence again.
"Enough of this nonsense, why should I be afraid?"Femi muttered to himself. This thoughts of "Bush babies? Spirits? Were becoming too much, It's just rabbits. How hard could it be?"
With a sigh of resignation, he accepted the inevitable, he had to empty the snares. Unless, of course, a dozen rabbits suddenly hurled themselves at him, begging to be choked to death one by one.
Which was very unlikely.
Femi straightened his spine, forcing his fear down, and pressed deeper into the forest.
The next time a rustle cut through the silence, he reacted instantly. His knife flashed through the air, embedding itself near the source of the sound. He held his breath, pulse thundering, waiting.
Nothing.
After a few tense heartbeats, he retrieved the blade.
Progress.
He repeated the ritual with every snapped twig and whisper of leaves until his arm ached and frustration outweighed fear.
"I need a damn catapult," he grumbled, catching his breath. Throwing his knives was exhausting.
But, he continues forward moving like a underpaid shadow, slinking from tree trunks to fallen logs, his cloak blending with the undergrowth, even though his brown cloak didn't work well with the snow.
He ducked behind thick bushes, melted into tall grass, and paused, listening. The snares were close.
Finally, he reached the snares and collected the rabbits.
"Thank the heavens, I'm done,"he exhaled, relieved to be finished with this miserable task.
Then..
Snap.
A branch cracked behind him.
Femi stiffened. "Calm down,"he muttered. "Probably just the wind."
Growl.
His heart stopped.
Growl.
"Of course," he thought, grip tightening on his axe. "This cursed forest won't let me breathe for even a...."
Slowly, he turned, bracing for fangs and fury.
Nothing.
Just trees and Silence.
"What in the...?" His eyes darted around. An invisible wolf? A ghost?
Then, another growl.
His body locked up as he traced the sound, downward.
And there it was.
A tiny, snow-white puppy.
Fluffy. Big-eyed. Trying to snarl, tiny teeth bared, its whole body trembling with the effort of its "ferocious"growl.
Femi stared.
Then, he laughed. A deep, disbelieving burst of relief.
"Hah! I thought Death itself had come for me!"He wiped his brow, grinning. "But no, it's just a victim."
The puppy growled harder, as if offended.
Femi laughed again. "Oh, little fool. You've delivered yourself to me."