RED
I shuddered awake as the screaming wind shook the tree overhead, worrying at the branches like the Wraith had worried at the Bone Snatcher's wing. I rolled over into a crouch, ready to flee my makeshift den at a moment's notice. But the groaning wood never gave way to the splintering crack that now haunted my dreams, and my piss-poor shelter held. Even though rain streamed in through the gaps of the hastily constructed lean-to, pooling under my shoulder to form a marshy bed.
It was hard to remember that I'd been grateful when the skies first opened up. I hadn't dared to venture back into the Rotten Sea for the supplies torn from my pack, travel rations, blankets and a fire-starting kit among them. So after hours of wandering aimlessly through the woods, looking for the bare necessities I needed to survive, it had seemed a blessing when the clouds had announced with a bone-rattling boom that they were simply going to hand me water.
I'd filled and drained my canteen once, twice, before finally seeking shelter in the roots of this tree. It was here, tucked away from the lurking terrors of the Wylds, that I'd finally reached into my cloak pocket for the packets of herbs, sealed dry with bee wax from the Blood Moon hives.
My attempts at rubbing sticks together hadn't amounted to so much as a spark. But I'd realised shortly after rubbing my hands even rawer that there was little point in starting a fire; it would only alert predators to my presence, and I had no container to boil the concoction in, anyhow. So I'd resigned myself to crumbling up the medicinal herbs and stuffing what I hoped were the right amounts of each through the narrow neck of my canteen, where they had since been steeping while I slept, apparently through the rest of the day and long into the night.
I eyed that canteen now with no small amount of trepidation, all too aware of my heartbeat in my chest. It was unusually sluggish, like it was labouring to keep blood pumping through my veins. My mouth pinched tight, but I steeled my resolve and reached out for the canteen, twisting the cap off. "To life," I muttered, raising it in silent toast - to no one. It was just another excuse to delay the inevitable.
Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I screwed my eyes shut and took a swig. Going cold-turkey would help nothing, even if I needed to wean off these herbs eventually. After all, they were in limited supply, and I hadn't the slightest idea of where to find more.
To my surprise, the tonic was more fragrant than bitter; perhaps it hadn't had time to properly steep. Shrugging, I took another, longer draught, holding the open canteen out into the curtain of rain to refill. I listened to the plunk of fat raindrops on metal, idly admiring the orange sheen on the side of the canteen.
I froze, scenting the smoke at the same time I realised what I was looking at. Not a sheen, but a reflection. I scrambled from my place in the roots, knocking aside my crude shelter of twigs and leaves, emerging muddy and panting into the night.
The forest was burning.
Thanking every star in Nya's spangled domain for the fact that everything I owned was already on my back, I fled from the orange glow. From the prickling heat, which raged despite the downpour, sizzling and spitting as it turned each drop to steam. But it followed, whipped into a frenzy by the raging winds, driving the hidden creatures of the Wylds out into the open to flee - to stampede.
Fangs and claws, fur and scales, horns and hooves; a horde of gleaming eyes, all thundering towards me. The air filled with a thousand flapping wings, and the terrified screams of fleeing animals that fell prey to opportunistic predators. Lightning forked through the sky, blanching all colour from the woods as it struck a tree only fifty feet away.
I whipped back around, pushing myself to the point of breaking, swallowing back the vomit that inevitably rose in the back of my throat. I didn't dare to waste a drop of that tonic. But despite my efforts, the flapping wings and thundering hooves gained on me. Shadowy bodies started overtaking me, some silhouettes familiar, others so unrecognisable they threatened to turn my stomach inside out. I tried to focus on just one as I ran; a small fawn ahead of me, probably only days old, trying to keep apace with its fleet-footed mother. But its legs were still wobbling, and it's speed was flagging -
Something sinuous and scaled leapt from my peripheral vision, tackling the fawn from the side. Its glossy black mane shone like obsidian beneath a second strike of lightning, and my mouth opened in a silent scream as its long, pointed snout clamped down on the back of the fawn's neck. The baby deer let out a single bleat of panic before the monster cleaved through its spine and started gorging, before they'd even hit the ground.
I veered away as I ran, cloak streaming out behind me like a war banner, but I wasn't the only creature spooked by the violent display. Something antlered clipped my shoulder as it barrelled past, sending me staggering. Pain forked through my back as even more lightning flashed overhead, striking the tree in front of me with a shower of splinters and sparks. Animals screamed in pain and fear, antlers tangling and bodies colliding as they scrambled away from the new threat. Still, I kept running. I could not fall behind; I would not -
Something ran me down from behind. I slammed face-first into the mud, shrieking at the crunch of bone in my wrist as something drove the full weight of its body into mine. Another hoof drove into my shoulder, and the agony was blinding, for all of my senses.
I lapsed in and out of that darkness, briefly coming to as something snuffled at my limp form. Easy pickings. But one lick of my bloodied palms, turned up to the sky, was enough to send the predator loping away with a disgruntled huff.
Darkness - and then light. Too much light; too much heat. Sweat streamed down my face, stinging in my eyes and dripping off the end of my nose as I pushed myself into a crawling position with my right arm, not even daring to test the throbbing wrist of my left. A canopy of fire loomed above me, and all that remained of the stampede was a few trampled carcasses and bones, picked surprisingly clean in such a short amount of time. None of the predators had been stupid enough to venture this close to the advancing army of flame and it's aerial cavalry of suffocating smoke.
I have to stay low, I thought grimly, inching away from the front lines as fast as my quaking body could take me. The smoke in the Gathering Hall had always been easier to endure when I sat on the ground for Brollo's stories. Or the smoke will claim my life before the flames can.
Lighting flashed again, followed instantly by a boom of thunder. But this time, the earth-rattling noise was followed by a pitiful whinny from somewhere behind.
"No," I snarled under my breath. "I will not look back." My own survival was already in question. I didn't have the luxury of wasting any more time.
But that whinny sounded again, full of pleading desperation. It was a call for help I couldn't deny, even if it wasn't meant for me. I realised from the pitch that it had to belong to a foal, no doubt terrified after being separated from its mother. I flung a curse at Nya, filthier than the mud now coating my teeth, but turned around nonetheless, squinting through the smoke.
It was indeed a foal, but nothing like the pack animals the Blood Moon Pack had used to ferry supplies on extended hunts. The palomino coat gave way to rippling, golden scales along its spine and down each leg, and the snow-white mane flowed upward, like a living flame. But even more unnerving than that unique blend of wyvern and horse was the golden horn crowning its brow, as smooth, thick and sharply pointed as an icicle. Concentric rings of purple ran up from the base, arcing away from the tip before they disappeared with an audible zap.
It was like the breath was being stomped out of my lungs all over again. A Kirin. I was looking at a Goddess-damned Kirin. I watched in dumb stupor as the foal of myth and legend shied away from the advancing flames, calling out for its mother. When a heavy bough fell from the canopy, collapsing in its path with a flurry of embers, the Kirin foal screamed and reared. That golden horn glowed white-hot, audibly crackling with electricity, and I felt my own hair lift off my neck with the charge in the air.
A bolt of lightning split the sky, arcing towards the Kirin's horn. But the foal didn't understand the force spearing towards it and backed away, causing it to catch on a tree branch instead. The wood, already dried out by the heat emanating from the forest fire, went up in an instant. The little foal fled, not realising in its fear that it was heading back into the fiery trap.
I groaned, climbing to my feet but keeping low as I also shuffled towards the fiery trap. Even though I knew it was probably responsible for the fire, and indirectly responsible for the stampede that had almost gotten me killed, I couldn't help but pity the lost foal. So far from home, if Brollo's tales were to be believed. The Kirin were creatures of the Grey Fist mountains, named for their white-knuckled grip on the land bordering the Wylds. Those rocky slopes and wide open spaces were perfect for summoning lightning in a controlled environment.
This was anything but. I wondered how the foal had ended up here, separated from its mother. Anything to distract me from the blistering heat; to keep me focussed, and putting one foot in front of the other. I couldn't let the roaring fires drown out my thoughts and lull me to sleep. It sounded so like a waterfall up close, overwhelming at first and then soothing, soothing...
The foal froze when it spotted me. Its nostrils were flared, brown eyes wide with fear, but it didn't so much as blink as I approached, my right hand open and outstretched for it to scent.
"You are safe with me," I croaked, even as my knees caved beneath me. My heart was pounding, my head swimming from the smoke, the heat. "You have nothing to fear."
It took one step towards me before my eyes rolled into the back of my head.