Doyle froze at the sight before him. A grizzly bear's hulking body lay sprawled on one side, the shredded remains of direwolves littered the other. Blood soaked the earth, turning dirt into dark, sticky mud. The moon hung above like a dull shroud over the carnage. And the smell… gods, that metallic stench of death clung to the air like a curse.
"Did you do all this?" Doyle asked, eyes wide, scanning the massacre.
"Legends are born this way, Henry," Mnex whispered in my head. "A spark of truth, a bonfire of exaggeration, and a pinch of nonsense just to keep the story spicy."
I nodded slightly, recalling Mnex's legend recipe, before turning to Doyle. I told him how I first spotted the bear, but it was too big for me to handle. So, I'd gone hunting elsewhere… found a pack of direwolves… and led them right into the beast's territory. After nature had its bloody brawl, I stepped in and cleaned up the survivors. I left the ending vague, after all, legends worked better when they were blurry at the edges.
Doyle stood in silence for a moment, then huffed through his nose.
"Well… at least let's not waste the pelts."
He strode over to the bear, pulling out his knife. The hide was still good in places, though riddled with bite marks and claw tears from the direwolves. He carved off what he could, tossing chunks of bloody fur aside with a grimace. The air was thick, heavy, every breath carrying that iron tang of death that clung to the back of the throat.
I turned to the wolves. Most were mangled beyond use, nothing left but gore and snapped bones. A few had died clean, my arrows putting them down swiftly once the fight was over. I skinned those carefully, shaking off what blood I could before setting the hides away from the mud.
"After all that," I muttered under my breath, wiping my knife on the grass, "my grand prize is a bloody scrap of fur…"
Doyle didn't laugh. He just shrugged, stuffing another piece of bear hide into his pack.
"In the wild, you take what you can get. Be grateful today gave you anything."
We gathered what pelts we could and headed back to camp. Doyle rekindled the fire, its crackle cutting through the eerie silence, while I scrubbed the blood off my hands. He pulled some dried meat from his bag and tossed me a strip. It smelled like luxury compared to the battlefield we'd just left behind.
Neither of us spoke as we ate. My mind kept circling back to the chaos in the forest, the blood, the coppery stink of death… and the pelts we were hauling home like trophies.
But there was something else too, a lesson burned into my bones. Next time I ventured out, I'd know better. More arrows, sharper blades, tools that made camping easier… I wasn't just hunting animals tonight. I'd killed off a piece of my own inexperience.
The night passed in uneasy peace. Even with the fire crackling beside us, the forest seemed to breathe that same metallic stench, as if death itself lingered among the trees. Sleep came slow, and when it did, it was restless.
At dawn, Doyle nudged me awake.
"We need to cross the river again," he said, tightening his pack straps. "Didn't set up a rope. Think you can manage without one?"
I glanced at 404 Neigh Found. The horse snorted softly, like it understood the challenge.
"We did it once, we can do it again," I said, rolling my shoulders.
This time, the current didn't scare me as much. Maybe surviving it once gives you a false sense of immortality. Or maybe I was just too tired to care.
"Don't worry," Doyle chuckled as we pushed through the water, "if the river sweeps you away, Virid'Avon will just drop you off back home."
I froze.
"Wait, what? This is that river? The one that runs through Godfrey's Cross?"
Turns out Virid'Avon was a massive serpent of a river, winding nearly one hundred and eighty kilometers across the land before spilling into the sea at both ends. As Doyle rambled on about its reach, the oppressive silence of the forest finally faded. Sunlight spilled through gaps in the trees, and for hours we trekked under its warmth until the sky blushed orange and we started scouting for our next campsite.
Clearings came and went, swallowed by dense woods again and again. It would be like this for the next two days, light and dark playing tag across the horizon.
We tied up the horses and began setting camp.
"You know," Doyle said as he dropped his bag with a sigh, "I thought this trip would take at least two weeks. Then you botched your first hunt and I figured, yep, a full month. Now here we are, day four, already heading home. You never stop surprising me, young lord."
"Please don't tell me this is building up to a love confession," I said, deadpan.
Doyle burst out laughing. "Relax. I still remember when you were just a drooling baby. Now you've grown up, killed your first prey… maybe I'm just getting old."
I squinted at him. "Aren't you like twenty two? Pretty sure you claimed you were eighteen when we met."
He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Funny, sounds like you're the one confessing now. Should I be flattered?"
"Aah, you're insufferable…" I grumbled, standing up. "I'm going to gather some firewood before this conversation gets worse."
Doyle was still chuckling as I slipped into the trees. I'd left my spear behind but kept my short sword and bow close. If trouble came, I wouldn't be caught empty handed.
The quiet of the forest was almost soothing… until Mnex's voice cut through my head like a sharp snap of twine.
"Henry! Henry!"
What now?
"Don't you hear that?" His tone was tense, urgent.
I paused, listening. Nothing.
"Two ears and not a single brain cell between them," Mnex hissed. "There are screams in the distance!"
Screams?
I went still, straining my senses. But no matter how hard I tried, the forest stayed silent.
"Pulse. Now."
Mnex rarely sounded this rattled. Dropping to one knee, I pressed my hands to the earth, breath held as mana seeped into the ground. Vibrations trickled back like faint whispers under my skin. It took a while before Mnex spoke again.
"Almost a kilometer away," he said sharply. "Movement. Hard to make out from here… get closer."
I crept forward, careful to mark my path in case I needed to retreat fast. With Mnex guiding me, getting lost wasn't likely, but I marked my path anyway. First time in the wild, better safe than sorry. When I felt close enough, I dropped to the ground and pulsed again.
"A large group," Mnex murmured. "Humans. The screams stopped, but there's movement. A camp. Be cautious, Henry."
A merchants caravan? That was my first thought but the memory of those screams gnawed at me. My steps grew slower, each one deliberate, weight shifting lightly to avoid snapping twigs. The sun had long vanished, shadows thickening under the trees, when a flicker of firelight glowed ahead.
"Big camps usually have guards," Mnex warned quietly.
I pulsed again, listening to the trembling echoes through the soil. Mnex's voice was low.
"At least thirty people. A lot for merchants…"
"Thirty?" I muttered under my breath. Sounds like a merchants caravan to me…
But as I edged closer, belly to the ground, peering through tangled brush, the truth hit hard.
This was no merchant camp.
A bonfire burned bright in the center, wagons ringed around it. Iron cages sat atop some of them, holding children, some barely half my size. Other cages held men. A few young girls huddled by the fire, shivering beside grinning men with tankards in hand. From nearby tents came unsettling sounds that made my stomach turn.
My breath caught in my throat. Thirty armed men, cages full of children, and gods know what's happening in those tents.
"Henry," Mnex said sharply, "walk away. Now. You do not want to get caught here."
Thanks, Mnex. Would've totally stayed for tea otherwise.
My mind screamed at me to run. I didn't know these people. They weren't my problem. Walk away and live another day.
But my gut twisted like a knife. I could hear Mnex lecturing in the back of my mind, logic sharp as a blade but it couldn't cut through the weight in my chest. Every instinct told me leaving wasn't just cowardice, it was betrayal.
My blood boiled. Every muscle screamed to do something, anything, yet the sight of so many armed figures rooted me to the spot.
"I know what you're thinking," Mnex cut in, voice harder now, "but that's how idealists die. There are over thirty of them. You cannot win."
Maybe not alone… but…
"No maybes. Even with Doyle, your odds are near zero. Worse if one of them uses Resolve."
So you're saying we just… leave them? My jaw clenched.
"Yes."
No. My fists tightened around the bowstring.
"Listen, you idiot. Suppose Doyle agrees to this madness and you both charge in. If you fail, you die. Or worse, end up in those cages too. You don't even know what they're capable of."
I watched the camp, teeth grinding, heart pounding.
They're drunk. Give it a few hours, they'll be sluggish. We might…
"Ten percent chance," Mnex snapped. "That's the best I can give you."
Then we'll each kill fifteen and even the score, I whispered, eyes never leaving the fire.
"Sure," Mnex muttered dryly. "Sounds perfectly reasonable."
I've got an idea.
"You always have ideas. They never go as planned."
I didn't answer. I just turned and ran back toward our camp, Mnex ranting in my head the entire way. I only had one goal now, get Doyle on board.
If he agreed… the forest would bleed again tonight.
Doyle was going to call me insane. I could already imagine him saying it, probably throwing in a few "young lord" jabs for good measure.
Didn't matter. Insanity or not, I wasn't going to sleep knowing those cages stayed full.