"Come here, Mira! We need to go!" Fay called out. His sister knew long ago what those words meant, and she immediately got ready to be carried.
Fay managed to get only one piece of food into his mouth. He tossed the rest aside, hoping it would lure the creature away from him and his sister.
He grabbed his backpack and secured Mira over it—moving as fast as he possibly could. He handed her one more piece of meat, and within seconds, he was running. He left behind the big bag of meat along with a good portion of the rest they had cooked.
What waited for them on the other side of the river was a large dog—two meters tall, three wide. A massive creature. One of the biggest he had ever seen. He knew the meat wouldn't keep it distracted for long; at best, the river might buy them a minute.
After that, it would spend a few seconds on each piece… and then the hunt would begin.
Escaping from a feral dog was almost unheard of. Their sense of smell was terrifying—able to track prey high or low. What Fay could do, though, was find a house or a tree. As powerful as these mutated beasts were, they were still scared of heights.
Dogs and cats
Because of this, he had taught Mira how to climb. And she did it well.
He'd strapped her onto his back so she could easily reach the first tree he spotted—one that looked climbable and safe.
It was full of branches, though many were covered in dead leaves. That was a good sign. If it was dead, it wouldn't attack them.
The ones in the small park? Those were different. They had life in them. Fay had seen one swing a branch hard enough to tear off a limb. He didn't know if trees could do that before the Great War… but now, everything seemed set on killing whatever it saw.
That included trees.
For now, though, he focused on helping Mira climb. She had a good head start and kept going, with Fay not far behind. Every time she struggled, he was right there, ready to lift her higher.
Five meters up, they began to slow and Fay finally had a chance to glance back.
The eerie dog was sniffing the ground, tracking them. Its massive head lifted as it picked up the sounds of the withered branches—still swaying and cracking as they broke and tumbled to the forest floor.
The beast howled, a deep, chilling sound that echoed through the forest. Mira quickly covered her ears, but she didn't cry out. Fay placed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet.
The creature looked up but didn't try to climb. Instead, it circled the base of the tree, pacing slowly, scanning its surroundings as if analyzing the situation. Fay watched nervously—it knew they were up here. And that intelligence was what frightened him most.
Most ferals had lost the capacity to think. They were creatures of instinct, driven only by hunger and aggression. But this one… it felt like it was waiting for something.
Fay looked up at the sky. The clouds were closing in, swallowing the last rays of the sun. Their window to return to the shelter was closing fast.
He had calculated at least three hours before they'd need to be back. Now, with this looming threat, that plan was nulled. They'd have to strap themselves to the tree and stay the night.
Thankfully, Fay was always prepared with belts. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that belts were indispensable. He used them to create traps, secure weapons, and scale difficult terrain—and now, they'd be used to stay anchored to this tree.
Fay watched it carefully, hoping it would lose interest. He could endure this for hours—but Mira was different. She was still young, and he knew if she became overwhelmed or frightened, she might cry. It would be normal for a four-year-old… but deadly in this situation.
She also needed sleep—and that time was coming soon.
Half an hour passed. Finally, the beast seemed to give up. It disappeared into the underbrush… but every few minutes, it returned. Still sniffing the ground and circling the tree.
During the brief moments when the creature wandered off, Fay managed to strap himself securely to the tree and settle Mira on his lap. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was safe. She was already crying—softly, doing her best not to make a sound. All Fay could do was gently pat her back until she finally drifted off to sleep.
"I'm sorry, Mira… this is just how life is for us now," he whispered once she was quiet. "Until I'm older—old enough to go back to the shelter and find work—we'll keep surviving like this."
His eyes drifted downward, locking onto the beast that refused to leave. It growled softly as it stared up at them, then suddenly tried to leap onto the lowest branch—only to fall back down with a thud. Undeterred, it began stomping around the tree in frustration. Thankfully, by then, Fay had tied both of them in tightly.
An hour passed. Then two.
Mira, miraculously, slept through it all.
That was how the night went: the creature never truly left. It would vanish for a while, only to return hours later, still drawn by their scent, still circling like a shadow that refused to fade.
Fay was thankful he had packed enough rations. And diapers—for Mira, of course.
By morning, after barely a few hours of broken sleep, he opened his eyes to find the beast still there—curled beneath the tree, ears twitching every so often, still listening for them and waiting.
Fay sighed, his breath heavy with exhaustion and frustration. Mira looked up at him, her big eyes searching his face. She knew her brother was thinking—planning a way to get them out of this situation. She hoped that plan included food… but not the scary beast.
Fay, meanwhile, scanned the branches around them. He was looking for the right ones—the strongest, the sharpest. Something he could turn into a weapon.
If the creature wanted a fight, he'd give it one.
At least here, in the tree, he had ammunition all around him. He just needed to choose the right weapons.