Chapter 7 - Bronston and Claire

Knight Lieutenant Bronston watched in horror as the maid sent to pose as his wife was pulled screaming into the knotted forest. It happened so quick he almost missed it. Yet the man reacted with shocking speed, diving after the woman and grabbing onto her wrist. However, the beast was too strong, and both were pulled swiftly out of sight, deeper into the haunting woods.

His assistant was gone, but the secret mission assigned by the Emperor continued. Bronston immediately secured his "daughter", picking her up and quietly moving back into the crowd.

He didn't mind sacrificing these people for the sake of his mission. After all, they were deserters of the Empire! They should be grateful, even if unknowingly, they could at least manage to serve the Empire as sacrificial pawns.

However, his plan didn't work for long. More tentacles appeared around the caravan, enough to suggest the whole forest was infested with these creatures. They slithered eerily in the dark, resembling black eels. The crowd grew restless, sensing the bloodlust.

A shiver ran down Bronston's spine. It was as if the forest itself were reaching out with slithering black fingers to feed itself with their flesh. People began to panic as the tentacles lashed out, seizing a human prize wherever they could. Bronston threw his eyes all around, looking for an escape. They were encircled on all sides... Except for the direction of the first attack.

The image of the shrieking maid flashed in Bronston's mind, fear prodding hesitance into him. But he was a proud Knight Lieutenant, so he solidified his resolve through sheer force of will. With a determined grunt, Bronston stood tall and ran forward with the little girl in his arms.

Several others had the same idea, but Bronston was the first to act on it. He lept forward deftly, his boots strumming against the ground with the precision of an experienced Kellioran Knight. He remained at the head of the exodus, despite having to carry the weight of the little girl. He ran quickly, but measured his steps to ensure safe passage over the perilous forest floor.

The creeping black appendages sprouted from randomly dispersed holes in the ground. It wasn't clear if this was an infestation of great proportions, or if this was a singular creature with countless limbs.

Bronston was startled by a sudden yelp directly behind him, followed by a thud as someone was caught and pulled to the ground. He was shocked someone had managed to keep pace with him, a trained Knight, up until now. He chalked it up to the power of fear. It must have pushed the poor bastard to exceed his limits.

With the little girl hiding her face in his chest, Bronston felt an even greater urgency. He ran harder, risking exhaustion to outrun the imminent threat.

Faster than any of the others, he ran through bushes, lept over streams, and ducked past hanging branches as he surged forward. Tentacles occasionally lashed at his feet, routing him like cattle dogs nipping at his heels. He could feel his lungs giving out, but he refused to let the creatures catch him. He ran stumbling as his muscles began to fail him until, miraculously, he made it to a clearing devoid of the threat.

He collapsed there, twisting to land on his back with the little girl still in his arms. He panted heavily as nervous sweat dripped to the ground beneath him. The enemy's maniacal laughter faded, leaving him cautious, but optimistic. A few seconds later, more people tumbled through the treeline behind him, also collapsing from exhaustion.

'...only a few seconds behind?'

Bronston felt the tinge of annoyance. He was getting older and had to carry a little girl while running, but he should have still been able to outrun mere commonfolk. Again chalking it up to the motivation of fear on untrained minds, Bronston shrugged it off. These cowards were lucky they could still feel mortal peril so easily. It likely saved their lives.

Eventually, Bronston caught his breath. After checking on his "daughter" and dusting off a bit, he stood up and looked around to gather his bearings. The clearing seemed secure, but he needed a safe path out of the forest. With that goal in mind, he started looking for animal tracks in case the wildlife had some safe route they could use. Assuming, of course, that there were still animals living in these woods.

While the others were trying to catch their breath, Bronston's eyes began scanning the surroundings, looking for a way out. But soon, his eyes fell on a familiar figure lying at the base of a tree. It was the . He lay there unmoving, with bones protruding from a misshapen torso and blood pooling beneath him. Bronston clicked his tongue. The were looked down on, but no one could deny how vital this man had been to their survival. They would now have to fend for themselves. But at the same time, he couldn't help but scoff.

'One of the high and mighty died just like that? I guess those bastards aren't as great as the stories say.'

A crowd began to gather behind Bronston, and it wasn't long before someone voiced the question each of them had thought.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, everyone was quiet. They were cut off from their wagons- away from their supplies. Only about a third of the original caravan made it here, suggesting a return would be impossible concerning the overwhelming mortality rate. The guard had been killed here too, so this place wasn't likely to be all that safe either.

The survivors began sharing their thoughts on the matter in hopes of formulating an escape plan before something else went wrong. Some thought they should stay put and gather information while others suggested deciding on a scouting party to go ahead of the group. Things quickly got heated, since no one wanted to sacrifice themselves for anyone else.

They were quickly distracted with their discussion, no one noticing the little girl had wandered over to the corpse. She had been strangely quiet, not screaming or crying through this ordeal like the other children. In fact, it seemed she was the only child left. Perhaps her behavior was what led her to survive this long.

She stood there quietly, observing the remains of the man she had questioned just the other night.

Indeed, bones had protruded from the side of his torso and a good amount of blood had seeped to the ground beneath him, but there was something she had never seen before. Crouching down beside him, she peered at the strange silvery substance which had formed around the wound. It shimmered in the dim forest light, almost as if to suggest the countless grains of silver sand were... moving? The wound was sealed, the bleeding stemmed by the strange substance.

With an emotionless stare, the little girl reached out and pressed a finger against an exposed bone. It moved around without much effort, like a loose baby tooth. As it did, the silvery substance buzzed louder like an angered hive of bees. It was most curious indeed.

"Claire! Get away from there!"

'Shit'

Bronston, the clueless man posing as her father, had become obnoxiously protective recently. Luckily, he couldn't see what she was doing from this angle. The little girl turned around, springing to her feet with that perfect "innocent good girl" smile on her face that made it look like she hadn't just been inspecting a gruesome corpse.

"Coming, dad!"

She skipped over lightheartedly, but she was careful not to overdo the happy act. People would get suspicious if she seemed too unaffected. Bronston was about to reprimand the girl, but he stopped when he heard a gory pop.

The little girl stopped in her tracks, her happy mask slipping for a moment. However, no one noticed because they were all focused on what was behind her. She slowly turned, looking once more at the body of the which lay in a heap by the tree.

The rib she had been playing with just a moment ago could no longer be seen. And the others... were being pulled back into his body at a visible rate.