The Adventures of the "Four Muskytears"

☁️ Taking Risks [4/5] ☁️

"Over here!" Jester called, waving a hand in the air. "We're watching!"

To my surprise, Polar had completely changed.

Her hands had changed into these large polar bear paws, each "finger" tipped with a sharp shard of ice that acted as a claw.

A short, stubby tail had extended out from the base of her waist, puffed out with white, fluffy fur.

Polar bear ears replaced the plastic ones on her headphones, constantly swiveling around to detect where danger would come from next.

"Are you guys just gonna sit there and gawk at me or what?" Polar sputtered out, narrowly avoiding getting bitten by a zombie.

"We're just watching you, pipsqueak. Pretend we're not here." Jester replied, now standing behind the log. "Also, try not to die."

Before I could react, a flash of cerulean whizzed across my vision, barely missing Jester's neck by an inch.

I swiveled myself around to see where it went, only to see a spear-like shard of ice embedded in the chest of a stray reanimated corpse.

"You can't be talking!" Polar's voice was unusually harsh, slightly strained from a distance. "Watch your back, please!"

Jester chuckled, swiftly clubbing the zombie in the back of its head and putting it to its permanent rest. "Alright, we will."

Casting Jester a skeptical glance, I turned to face the bloodbath that Polar was causing.

Only a small chunk of the horde remained, about four or five of the undead left.

Polar herself was drenched in crimson blood, small bits of festering flesh clinging to her clothes.

The grassy clearing was littered with decaying bodies, some of them missing a few limbs or even their heads.

The slaughter was messy, but a slaughter nonetheless.

"Hey Jes, do you still think I'm a big baby about this whole zombie thing or what?" Polar called, carefully stepping over the maimed corpses and making her way over to our hideout.

The masked man blinked in surprise, clearly overwhelmed by how quickly the shapeshifter had taken out the horde. "You're already done?"

Rubbing the spear end of her trident with a sleeved hand, Polar nodded in reply. "Yep. Did you think I'd take longer?"

Jester shook his head in disbelief. "I thought you'd run away and just... Not fight."

"Nonsense." Polar seemed oddly mature now, planting her trident in the ground and examining her fingernails. "Now what? You said we better build a base before the next night rolls in. Let's get going."

It was either the rush of adrenaline that really got her fighting spirits up, or just me being delusional.

Either way, she was right. We would have to have a decent shelter before night fell.

"Y'know what? Polar's right. I'm heading south to see if there's anything that could help us there. Up north is probably snow and ice." Stick said, promptly tapping Polar on the shoulder before turning around and walking away.

Jester stood open-mouthed as he watched Polar trail after Stick, still astonished by her display of sheer brutality toward the undead.