The forest exhaled a shudder. Asdras's breath coiled in the air like smoke as the thing emerged — first a jagged silhouette, then moonlight shearing across its bulk as it shouldered through the pines. Trunks groaned; branches snapped like bone. Frostbit wind clawed at his face, but his fingers burned around his sword hilt, blood roaring as if his veins held embers, not fear.
The beast's maw split wide — a cavern lined with serrated teeth, two curved fangs glistening as saliva pooled beneath them. Shadows from those fangs speared the snow, black lances aimed at his boots. 'Not shadows', Asdras realized.
"Well, ain't you a charmer," Brian drawled.
Snow sloughed off the creature's hunched spine, revealing a hide like petrified bark, ridges and fissures oozing resin that reeked of burnt pine. Its pelt shifted — mottled russet, iron-gray, the hungry red of fresh clay — a living extension of the winter-rotten forest. Every step sank deep into the drifts, hissing as its clawed feet pierced the snow's crust. The ground trembled. A low growl rippled outward, vibrating in Asdras's molars.
Raffin's voice cut through the frost-laced silence, low and gravelly as wind over stone. "A shadow's just a teacher without a classroom, lad. Let's learn its syllabus."
Ruffin's calloused hand gripped Asdras's shoulder, warm even through layers of wool and leather. "If this thing's half as ugly up close as it smells, we'll need a drink and a priest after." His grin faded as he spoke with a serious tone. "But the world doesn't gift lessons without blood for ink. You two still hungry for some heat?"
Asdras's pulse hammered against his ribs — not fear, but a pull, like his marrow recognized the creature's growl as a challenge etched into some primal ledger. He nodded once, sharp as a blade leaving its sheath.
Brian snorted, hefting his spear. "Remember Old Joe's 'training'? That mangy fur-lizard chewed through Luca's best boots."
"You cried harder when he made you stitch his toe back," Asdras shot back, flexing his sword hand.
Brian's smirk turned feral, moonlight catching the scar through his brow. "No group. No Joe. Just us two and that." He jerked his chin at the beast. "Perfect odds."
Raffin drifted toward his shuddering horse, murmuring something that made the animal still. "Ever met a storm that apologized for the wreckage?" He tossed a withered apple into the snow. "Neither'll this one. But storms end." The horse quieted. So did the men.
Raffin's voice cracked like a whip from the treeline. "A hunter skins the beast after he finds the seam. Eyes open, lads — weaknesses don't wear banners."
Asdras's sword slid free, the blade kissing frozen air as he edged sideways, boots crunching deliberately in the snow. The creature loomed closer, its breath a rancid fog that stung his eyes.
Behind him, Brian's chuckle rippled, dark and buoyant. "Two of you wide, thrice as ugly," Asdras muttered, cataloging the beast's hulking shoulders — like a barn door sheathed in shale — and the way its claws gouged divots in the earth with every step.
"Fangs like scythes, claws like damn butcher hooks," Brian called, twirling his spear. "Got a plan, or we just admiring it?"
Asdras flexed his numb fingers. "Draw blood first. See what sticks. And don't let it grab you."
"Oh, I'll stick it alright," Brian said, stepping forward. His new spear gleamed, its hooked tip serrated. Distract the beauty. I'll flirt with its ankles."
Asdras scanned the terrain — jagged stones littered the slope to the left. "Move on my mark."
Asdras lunged diagonally, snatching two fist-sized rocks. The creature's milky eyes tracked him, its growl thickening. He palmed the first stone, gauged the arc, and hurled it. The rock cracked against a fang, snapping the beast's head sideways. "Now!"
Brian bolted right, spear leveled. The creature whirled, but Asdras lobbed the second stone — a glancing blow off its temple. No flinch. No blood. 'Blunt force won't bite. Gotta cut deep.'
Brian lunged low, spear tip glinting as he buried it into the creature's haunch. The blade sank two inches before he slapped the haft. The weapon telescoped backward with a metallic snick, yanking him clear as the beast bucked. A claw grazed his shoulder, shredding cloth.
"Tickle fight's over, ugly!" he spat, skidding sideways through slush.
The creature whirled, fangs arcing downward in a scythe-like sweep toward Brian's ribs. He rolled, mud flecking his face as the impact cratered the ground where he'd stood. "It works," he barked, scrambling upright. "Just not deep enough!"
Asdras exploded forward. Boots punched craters into frost as he closed the gap, muscles coiled like springtraps. His first slash split the hide along the beast's flank — a gout of green-black blood hissed into the air, steaming where it struck snow. A second strike, horizontal this time, opened a crosshatch of gore before he pivoted away, lungs burning.
The monster shrieked, a sound like glaciers shearing apart. It staggered, joints locking as it swiveled its massive skull between them. Then — decision. It lurched toward Brian, whose spear was still retracting. A claw lashed out, missing his throat by a breath.
'Because Brian drew blood first, or it was deeper,' Asdras realized.
He didn't hesitate. Gripping his sword two-handed, he charged the creature's blind side. It paused mid-lunge, muscles quivering. 'Now.' The blade plunged into the same wounded flank, grating against bone before he ripped it free in a serrated jerk —leftward, savage — carving a ragged trench through flesh.
The beast collapsed onto its forelimbs, roar gurgling into a wet snarl. Brian was already moving, spear re-extending with a clang. "Deeper's better," Asdras panted, backpedaling as the creature's body whipped the air like a scorpion's sting.
The beast's head snapped toward Asdras, its milky eyes boiling with a feral, unhinged glare. Its spine arched like a drawn longbow, joints popping as it coiled.
"Plow-forsaken mule—!" Asdras spat.
It erupted forward. Snow geysered in its wake, the ground quaking as it closed the distance in three strides. Asdras threw himself left, fangs shearing the air where his throat had been.
No respite — the creature pivoted, claws raking the earth in a zigzag charge, herding him backward. He danced sideways, boots skidding on ice, ribs heaving. 'Too fast. Too godsdamned fast.'
"Keep it dancing!" Brian roared.
The beast halted abruptly, sides heaving, rancid breath pluming in ragged gusts. Asdras braced, sword trembling in his grip. 'Bait the strike.' He feinted right, blade glinting. The creature took the lure — its head snapped down, fangs crashing against his steel. The impact shuddered up his arm, numbing his fingers. His knees buckled; he staggered, sword tip gouging the dirt to stay upright.
Brian struck like a viper. He vaulted onto the beast's hunched back, driving his spear into the fissured hide between its shoulders. The blade bit deep, and he wrenched it sideways before hurling himself clear. The creature convulsed, spine undulating like a snapped rope, tail thrashing wildly as it collapsed onto its forelimbs.
Asdras didn't think — he moved. The creature's convulsions stilled for a heartbeat, and he vaulted onto its shuddering back, boots slipping on ichor-slick hide. His fingers locked around Brian's embedded spear haft as he used it to heave himself upward. Muscles screaming, he twisted mid-air, sword raised like a lightning rod, and brought it down between the beast's milky, lidless eyes.
The blade punched through bone with a sickening crunch. Green-black blood, scalding his cheeks. The creature's roar split the air, a sound that vibrated in his teeth as its massive skull jerked sideways. Momentum ripped the sword from Asdras's grip, and he plummeted, shoulder slamming into frozen earth. Breath exploded from his lungs. He rolled, ribs shrieking, as the beast collapsed beside him, its fangs gouging a trench inches from his leg.
"Hell's—" he wheezed, scrambling backward on his elbows, snow searing his palms. The monster twitched, claws raking the ground in spasms.
The earth trembled — a faint shudder at first, like the scrape of a coffin lid. Then the ground split.
A shadow blurred past Asdras's shoulder, too swift to track. Raffin materialized mid-air, his tattered cloak billowing like a storm cloud as the second beast erupted from the soil. Its fangs gleamed, poised to clamp down on Brian's exposed back.
Raffin's body became a weapon. He arched backward at the apex of his leap, daggers slipping into his palms as if drawn by magnetism. The blades caught the moonlight — twin silver fangs — as he spun, a helix of lethal grace.
The creature's eyes, bulbous and milky, popped as the daggers buried themselves to the hilt. Raffin rode the beast's momentum, boots skidding along its armored skull as he dragged the blades downward. Flesh parted like rotted cloth.
Raffin flipped free as the creature collapsed, its death throes churning the snow into black sludge. He landed in a crouch, daggers dripping, breath steady. The silence that followed felt heavier than the cold.
Asdras stared, his own sword still lodged in the first beast's skull. Brian knelt nearby, clutching a bleeding forearm, mouth half-open.
Raffin straightened, sheathing his blades with a snick. "Lesson one," he said, brushing ichor from his sleeve. "Never celebrate too early, boys."
Raffin crouched beside the carcass, his dagger tapping the beast's skull like a woodsman testing rotten timber. "Pride's for fools who survive. These things hunt in pairs — always. Kill one, you best start counting."
He jabbed the blade into a milky eye socket, the gelatinous orb bursting with a wet pop. "Blind as a cavefish. Ears? Useless. But smell you three leagues off." He sliced a fang free, holding it up to the moonlight. "Lethal, aye. But predictable."
He gestured for them to kneel. Remember the tale of the hollow apples? The ones that rotted old Hestin's herd?"
Brian grimaced. "The 'cursed fruit' story? Thought that was tavern rot."
Rot's what's left of a man who eats one." Raffin peeled back the Wormreaper's lip, revealing serrated chompers. "Apple Worms bury their young in fruit. Eat it, and the larva puppets your guts till you're naught but skin and stupidity." He nodded at the corpse. "This is why they're extinct in the south. Wormreapers stalk 'em. Smell an apple's rot for miles."
"So our trail snacks…" Asdras muttered, recalling the bruised apples they'd fed the horses.
"Drew 'em like flies to a corpse." Raffin's dagger sawed through tendon, extracting a fang the size of a sickle. "Fangs brew gutfire tonic — stops poison cold. Chompers?" He tossed a jagged tooth to Brian. "Grind 'em to dust. Makes a paste that seals wounds faster than prayer."
Asdras watched Raffin's hands — scarred, steady — peel a membrane from the fang's base. "Venom's weak," the hunter grunted, "but enough to shit out your boots for a week. Harvest clean, or harvest nothing."
Raffin stood, wiping gore on his thighs. "Come spring, trade these in Kael's Reach. Then buy the Monster Codex: Northern Horrors. Costs a king's ransom, but it'll keep your guts inside where they belong."
Brian nudged a fang with his boot. "So… we're not stuffing these in our bedrolls, right?"
"Only if you fancy waking up to your own bile," Raffin snorted. "But aye — you're learning."
Javier emerged from the shadows. "Amazing fight, my good saar!"
Raffin yawned, stretching until his joints cracked. "Dance is done. Sleep. Dawn'll come hungrier than these things."