Pain radiated through my body as I jolted awake, my chest heaving. My eyes snapped open to a sky streaked with the first hints of dawn, the cool air pressing down on me. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The last thing I remembered was green blood, screaming goblins, and an explosion that had sent me flying.
"Emery!" I yelled, my voice raw, panic overtaking my senses. "Emery, where are you?"
"Logan!" Her voice came from somewhere close, full of urgency.
I turned my head just as she rushed to my side, her small hands pressing against my chest to keep me still. "It's okay," she said quickly, her blue eyes searching mine. "It's okay! I'm here. You're safe."
Her words slowed my breathing, though my heart still pounded like a drum. "Safe? What… what happened?"
"We were saved," she said, her voice steady but her gaze flickering with uncertainty.
I blinked, trying to process her words. As the world came into focus, I saw them—five figures standing a short distance away.
They were kids, but not like us. They looked older, maybe 12 or 13, and they carried themselves with a confidence that didn't belong to children. Their clothing was rugged and practical, made of fur and leather that looked well-worn from use. Each of them was armed, their weapons sharp and ready, their eyes scanning the forest like they expected danger to leap out at any moment.
The tallest one stepped forward. He was built like a bear, broad-shouldered and towering even at his age. A two-headed axe rested against his shoulder, its blades gleaming. His grin was wide, his teeth bright against his tanned skin.
"Ah, so the hero wakes!" he bellowed, his voice loud and booming. "Thought we might've lost you, little one."
"Bjorn," one of the others muttered, their tone disapproving.
The boy—Bjorn—ignored the comment and strode closer, crouching down beside me. "Name's Bjorn," he said, clapping a hand on his knee. "Leader of this merry band. You're welcome, by the way."
Before I could respond, another figure stepped forward, larger even than Bjorn. He had a calm, almost serene look on his face, his massive frame making the shield strapped to his back and the sword at his side look almost small.
"Don't mind him," the boy said in a deep, gentle voice. "He's loud, but he means well." He extended a hand. "I'm Viggo."
I took his hand, his grip firm but careful, as though he were afraid of hurting me. "Logan," I said, my voice hoarse.
"And I'm Emery," she added from beside me, her tone defensive. "He's not a 'little one,' by the way."
Bjorn laughed. "No offense meant, I promise. You're just smaller than us. Happens when you're new."
"New to what?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.
Bjorn's grin didn't falter, but he didn't answer either.
The next to approach was a wiry boy with sharp eyes and an even sharper silence. He carried two short swords at his sides, his movements precise and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. He nodded once. "Sten," he said simply, his voice as quiet as his demeanor.
I didn't get the chance to respond before another figure stepped forward—a girl this time, with a bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver of arrows at her hip. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight braid, her gaze fierce and calculating.
"Astrid," she said curtly. "You're lucky we were around."
Finally, the last figure emerged from the group, her demeanor a stark contrast to the others. She was shorter, with a kind face and soft, curious eyes. She held a staff in her hands, its surface carved with intricate runes that seemed to glow faintly.
"I'm Ingrid," she said, her voice warm and gentle. She knelt beside me, her hands brushing lightly over my arm as she examined the crude bandages wrapped around my injuries. "I… I'm sorry about earlier," she said, her cheeks flushing.
"Sorry?" I asked, confused.
She hesitated, glancing at the others. "It was my spell. I… I didn't mean for it to hurt you. My aim isn't… great."
I blinked, unsure how to respond. A spell? My head throbbed with more questions than answers.
"She saved your life," Astrid cut in, her tone defensive. "You'd be dead if it weren't for her."
"That explosion was her?" I asked, looking between them.
Ingrid nodded sheepishly. "It… wasn't supposed to be so close."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded.
Emery leaned closer to me, her voice low. "I think we can trust her," she whispered. "She's been helping me since we got here."
I looked at Ingrid again, her hands deftly replacing the bandages on my arm. There was a kindness in her eyes that made me believe Emery's words.
After patching me up, the group offered us food—simple bread and dried meat, but it was the best thing I'd tasted in days. Emery devoured hers, but I ate slowly, trying to focus on what was happening around me.
"So," Bjorn said after a while, leaning back against a tree, "what were you two doing out here? Not exactly a place for kids like you."
I hesitated, glancing at Emery. We'd agreed to lie, but I wasn't sure how much they'd believe.
"We don't remember," Emery said quickly, her voice steady. "Just our names. That's it."
Bjorn raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Huh. Amnesia. Convenient."
Viggo shot him a look. "Bjorn."
Bjorn raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. If you don't know, you don't know."
"It's called Grimwood," Astrid said suddenly, her tone flat. "This forest. That's what it's called."
Grimwood. The name sent a shiver down my spine, the word heavy with an unspoken weight.
"Why is it called that?" Emery asked, her voice cautious.
Astrid's gaze hardened. "Because it's where people come to die."
The silence that followed was deafening.
"Well," Bjorn said, breaking the tension, "you've survived longer than most. That's worth something."
Ingrid glanced at me, her expression soft. "You'll be okay now," she said gently. "We'll make sure of it."
I wanted to believe her.