Night pressed down on the forest with an unfriendly cold.
The wind moved low between the trunks of ancient trees, brushing against broad leaves and creating whispers that never truly fell silent. The sound had no rhythm. No order. Like something trying to speak in a language long forgotten.
The damp ground released the smell of fungus and rotting wood. Roots jutted from the soil like crooked fingers, ready to seize anything careless enough to stumble. Everything felt alive, yet nothing felt welcoming.
Clive stood with his knees slightly bent.
He held his breath halfway. Not from exhaustion, but because the sound of his own breathing felt too loud in his ears.
Roxanne was beside him, lower, almost fused with the ground. Her knees sank into wet mud. Her back leaned forward. Her green eyes moved quickly, sweeping branches, shadows, and the dark gaps between trees.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
Clive's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
Its weight felt wrong.
Not like the wooden sword he used to swing in the yard at home. This blade dragged his arm downward. Demanded balance. Demanded commitment. With every breath, the metal in his hand felt more real.
This was not a training tool.This was a tool meant to end something.
Leaves shifted to the left.
Clive turned sharply. His muscles tensed.
Nothing.Just shadows moving slowly.
He stepped back half a pace to adjust his footing.
His boot crushed a dry branch.
Crack.
The sound was far too loud. Like a rib snapping in a closed room.
Clive froze. His heart stopped for a heartbeat, then slammed against his chest with brutal force. He knew. Even before he saw it, he knew.
From above, behind slowly swaying gray leaves, a pair of yellow eyes ignited.
Then another pair.
Then three.
The dim lights did not blink. Did not dart wildly. They simply stared. Measuring.
Roxanne hissed softly, her voice thin and barely audible. "I told you."
There was no time to reply.
A stone the size of a clenched fist shot out of the darkness. It flew low and struck the ground between them with a heavy thud.
Clive staggered back. His spine slammed against a large tree trunk. The bark was rough and cold, scraping against his clothes.
"Focus," Roxanne whispered sharply. Her eyes never stopped moving. "They're above us. Don't lock onto one direction."
Clive nodded. His throat was dry.
Something moved fast.
A large shadow leapt down from above. It landed with a heavy yet controlled impact. Then two more followed, their bodies hitting the ground with unnatural agility for their size.
The monkeys stood as tall as an adult's waist. Their arms were long and muscular, hanging nearly to the ground. Their gray fur was matted with mud and thorns. In places, bald skin showed through, covered in old scars.
Their jaws opened.
Uneven yellow teeth were exposed, accompanied by a rough sound that could not quite be called a growl.
The largest one stepped forward.
Its bright yellow eyes were filled with cold curiosity.
Clive felt cold sweat slide down his temple.
Caleb.
The image came uninvited. His brother standing in a battlefield littered with bodies, surrounded by endless creatures. Every swing of the sword. Every wound. Every step forward even as his body nearly collapsed.
If Caleb could face that.
Then this.
Clive lifted his head. His gaze changed. Fear was still there, but it was locked behind something harder.
"I'll draw the big one," he said. His voice came out rougher than he expected. "You hit the ones on the side."
"That's a stupid plan," Roxanne replied without looking at him.
"Got a better one?"
Roxanne was silent for a fraction of a second. Then she nodded quickly. "Don't die."
Clive stepped forward.
He raised his sword and pointed it at the largest monkey. "Hey!" he shouted. His voice echoed between the trees. "I'm here!"
The monkey tilted its head.
For a moment, there was something in its eyes that almost looked like curiosity.
Then it charged.
The ground shook as the massive body surged forward with shocking speed. Its long arms cut through the air, claws spread wide.
Clive moved sideways at the last second. The wind from the swing brushed his face. He threw himself down, rolling across wet earth, feeling small stones slam into his back.
He rose halfway.
His sword swung, aiming for the creature's ankle.
Whoosh.
Empty air.
The monkey leapt back with terrifying agility.
Roxanne moved.
She did not shout. Did not hesitate. Her body shot forward low, like an arrow. Her sword stabbed toward the monkey on the right. The movement was short, efficient.
The blade sliced into the creature's thigh.
Dark blood sprayed. Thick. Hot.
The monkey screeched, the sound piercing the air.
The others reacted instantly.
One leapt toward Roxanne. Another climbed a tree trunk with spider-like speed, claws ripping into bark.
"Right!" Clive shouted.
He sprinted forward. His sword raised.
The large monkey attacked again, this time lower. Clive jumped. He felt claws scrape his boot, nearly yanking him down.
He landed hard. His knees screamed.
Another stone flew from above.
It struck his shoulder.
Pain exploded.
Clive staggered. His vision swam.
The large monkey growled. Its jaw opened wide, a foul stench pouring out. The smell of old meat and dried blood.
It lunged again.
*******
In the swamp, the fog crept low, like a layer of wet cotton that swallowed sound.
Connor raised his hand.
Ted nearly ran into his back.
"Quiet," Connor whispered.
His eyes were not looking ahead. They were fixed on the muddy ground beneath their feet.
Tracks.
Large. Deep. Split claws sunk into wet mud.
"Tuskers," Connor murmured. He knelt, touching the edge of the print. Still damp. "Fresh. Ten minutes, maybe less."
Ted shuddered. "We should fall back."
Connor rose slowly. "Falling back means failure."
He looked out over the wide stretch of swamp. "And failure means death."
His gaze settled on a large mud pit near a fallen tree.
"We need a trap."
He turned to Ted. His stare was cold. Assessing. "Ever hunted wild boar?"
Ted shook his head. "Only fish."
"Their weak point?"
"I don't know."
"Then you're useless as information," Connor said without emotion.
Ted swallowed.
Connor pointed at the pit. "A Tusker charges straight. It can't turn sharply. You lure it. Run there. I wait."
"I could die."
"And if we stand here, we will die for sure."
Ted closed his eyes. Then nodded.
The fog shifted.
Something large growled in the distance.
Connor smiled faintly.
The hunt began.
*******
The large monkey charged like a living bullet.
Clive barely had time to breathe. His body moved on instinct, not calculation. He threw himself sideways. His back slammed into hard ground. The air was knocked from his lungs. His sword slipped briefly from his control, the blade striking stone and throwing off small sparks.
The creature landed exactly where Clive had been standing.
The ground trembled.
The monkey's jaws opened. Its uneven yellow teeth were clearly visible. A foul stench burst from its mouth, the smell of old meat and dried blood that made Clive's stomach churn.
Clive pushed himself halfway up. His hand reached for the sword. His fingers were slick with mud and sweat. He drew a short, broken breath.
He was almost dead.
The thought came cold and honest.
Roxanne shouted. Not in panic, but as an order cut by heavy breathing. "Don't stand in the open!"
Too late.
From above, a shadow dropped. The second monkey slammed into Clive from the side. Their bodies collided hard. Clive was thrown aside. His shoulder struck a tree trunk. Pain shot sharply up into his spine.
His sword fell.
Clive gasped. His vision swam. He crawled, trying to reach the hilt. His fingers touched dirt, wet leaves, roots. Not metal.
The monkey stood over him.
Its long arm rose.
Roxanne moved.
She did not try to pull Clive away. She did not try to block with her body. She attacked.
Her sword thrust upward from below. The blade struck the monkey's abdomen. It went in halfway, stopped by bone. Dark blood poured out, soaking Roxanne's arm up to the elbow.
The creature screeched. The sound was ear splitting. Its hands clawed at the air, losing balance.
Its grip weakened.
Clive rolled away. He grabbed his sword, gripping it with both hands. He staggered to his feet. His breathing was ragged, his lungs burning as if on fire.
"Stand," Roxanne shouted. "Don't fall again."
The large monkey moved again.
This time, Clive did not wait.
He charged first.
His sword lifted high, then came down with all the strength he had. The blade struck the creature's shoulder. It did not sever. It only lodged.
The creature roared.
Its arm lashed out.
Claws slammed into Clive's chest.
Pain exploded.
Clive was thrown backward. The air left his lungs in a single violent rush. He fell flat on his back. The world spun. His left chest felt hot. Wet.
Blood.
For a moment, everything went silent.
No forest. No screams. Only the sound of his own heartbeat, heavy and uneven.
Then Roxanne's voice crashed back into his awareness. "Get up."
Clive blinked. He saw the night sky through gaps in the leaves. The stars trembled.
Caleb.
His brother's face appeared again. Not on the battlefield. But in the doorway of their home. Smiling. Ruffling his hair. Telling him not to be stupid.
Clive clenched his teeth.
He got up.
He had focused too much on the large monkey.
He forgot the others.
Something slammed into the side of his head.
Clive fell again, harder this time. His vision exploded white. The world felt distant. Muffled. He heard sounds, but as if underwater.
Roxanne screamed his name.
Blood flowed from his temple. Warm. Sticky.
He tried to move. His body did not obey.
The third monkey stood over him.
Smaller. Faster. Its eyes wild. Its jaws opened.
Roxanne ran.
She leapt, slamming into the creature from the side. They fell rolling. Roxanne's sword slipped from her hand. She drew a small dagger from her belt and drove it into the monkey's eye.
The creature shrieked. Thrashed. Its arms flailed wildly.
One of the blows struck Roxanne.
Her body was thrown aside. She hit the ground. Rolled. Stopped in an unnatural position.
Clive saw it.
Something inside his chest collapsed.
He screamed.
Not a word. Not a name. A raw scream torn from the depths of his lungs. A scream that did not care whether anyone heard it or not.
He forced himself up. Ignoring the pain. His sword rose.
He charged the monkey that had hurt Roxanne.
The blade drove into its neck.
Hot blood sprayed across his face. Into his eyes. Into his mouth.
The creature convulsed. Its claws scraped the air. Then it collapsed.
Only the large monkey remained.
It looked at Clive.
For a moment, those yellow eyes showed no rage.
Only recognition.
Then it ran.
Clive chased it with a wild cry. He no longer saw the terrain. No longer heard anything else. The world narrowed to the large body running ahead of him.
He did not see the low branch.
His head struck hard wood.
The world went dark.
Roxanne crawled.
Her body ached in every joint. Her breaths were shallow. Each inhale felt like a small knife stabbing her chest. She saw Clive lying motionless.
The large monkey approached.
Roxanne picked up Clive's sword.
Her hands trembled. The blade felt too heavy. Too long.
She stood.
"Come on," she whispered. "Come on."
The creature charged.
Roxanne did not dodge.
She waited.
When the creature was too close to stop, she threw herself sideways and drove the sword downward, straight between the ribs.
The blade pierced through.
The creature crashed to the ground with a heavy sound.
Roxanne collapsed to a sitting position. Gasping. Blood dripped from her arm and thigh. Her hands shook violently.
She turned to Clive.
He did not move.
"Clive," she whispered.
No answer.
*******
In the swamp, Ted ran.
His breath was ragged. Mud pulled at his legs like dead hands. Each step felt heavier than the last. Behind him, heavy sounds charged forward, tearing through brush and branches.
The Tusker emerged from the fog.
Its body was massive. Muscular. Its head low. Its short tusk caked with mud. Its eyes red. Drool dripping from its mouth.
Ted screamed and thrust his spear.
The spear struck its snout.
The Tusker roared.
Ted turned and ran for the pit.
Mud sucked at his feet. He nearly fell. His arms flailed in panic.
The Tusker charged straight.
The massive body plunged into the pit with a heavy crash. Mud swallowed its front legs up to half its body. The creature thrashed. Writhed. Struck at the air.
Connor moved.
He emerged from behind the fallen tree. Axe raised. His face calm. His breathing steady.
He did not strike the head.
He struck the joints.
His axe slammed into the Tusker's hind leg. Once. Twice. Three times.
Blood sprayed. Black. Thick.
The creature roared. Tried to turn. The mud held it fast.
Connor circled. Like a butcher.
He struck again. Again. Until the leg broke.
The Tusker collapsed onto its side.
Ted fell. Crying. Crawling away.
Connor approached.
He looked into the creature's eyes. There was no hatred. No satisfaction.
Only certainty.
His axe came down on the skull.
Once.
The creature went still.
Fog closed over the swamp.
Connor stood. His hands were smeared with blood. He cut something from the Tusker's body. A round object, the size of a large marble. Dark brown. Solid. Warm. Pulsing with its own rhythm.
He held it tight.
"I'm sure this is what they want," he said flatly.
Ted stared at him with empty eyes.
Connor did not look back.
*******
Roxanne managed to wake Clive.
He choked. Coughed. Blood spilled from his mouth.
"Alive," he muttered.
They sat leaning against a tree trunk. Around them lay three monkey corpses. The smell of blood and wet earth mixed thickly.
Roxanne pressed Clive's wound with a torn cloth. "You almost died."
Clive let out a short laugh. His voice was hoarse. "I know."
He stared at the blood on his hands. Not only his own.
"I made a mistake," he said quietly.
Roxanne did not deny it.
She pulled something from her leather pouch.
A round object. The size of a large marble. Dull green. Emitting a soft glow, like a dying firefly.
Clive stared at it. His chest felt heavy.
"What is that."
"Let's go back to the First Nest. I'm sure this is what they want," Roxanne said.