The scream of the one person Jakos was concerned with spurred the hunter into action. Without thought or hesitation, he broke into a run, feet pressing on dead leaves and entangled roots of the woods as he raced to the source. 

His hands tightened firmly around the long-handled mace, hoping its familiar weight and feel of his trusted weapon would reassure him and the rising panic from within. It didn’t work. In fact, it didn’t help one bit as Alta's screams pierced into the dark.

Jakos felt a stab of pain that was deeper than any weapon. It was as if her very voice stretched and pulled from everywhere at once, rippling far into eternity, her cries blood-curdling and surreal. He had never heard her screams before and wished he had never wanted to listen to them again.

Despite the sound, Alta’s screams were linear and easy to follow as Jakos trailed deeper into the woods. The hunteress had still been in pursuit with the stragglers, chasing and killing those who fled the attack, but whatever else she encountered was far worse.

Jakos pressed forward through the lantern trail, its blue, gangrenous glow guiding the hunter towards his destination.

His cries to call out her name, loud and sure and distorted by fear, fell on deaf ears as the only response Jakos heard was her continuous screams. He never felt more afraid for her than he did for himself. He rarely displayed such emotions so openly, but the truth was clear. 

The hunter was many things in his long and careered life: a killer, a butcher, a reckless fool drunken by the thrill of combat, but, out of everything, he was never irresponsible. His job, his goal in life, was to teach the next generation and care for them so they, in turn, would train the next one. 

Alta was to be his last, his greatest, his proud achievement before death would finally take him like old friends. And, sadly, a possible end to his long partnership with Maldock. 

Despite his furious outburst at Maldock's decision to end their chase with their quarry, he couldn’t help but be reluctant on matters of state, especially with some pompous noble fool whom he didn’t know or cared little about. So, in time, Jakos could perhaps forgive him, but he couldn’t forgive himself if Alta perished. 

Jakos kept up with the persistence, teeth gritting and pressed ever onward through the screams. It pained him mentally, knowing how rare the huntress spoke out. Alta was never one to be a conversationalist, and if she did, it was a terseness Jakos could respect. 

But that sound… that volume… her cries of pain and anguish…

What was once fear that stilled the hunter’s heart boiled into an unceasing rage he could no longer repress. Thoughts of violence, the inexplicable torture he would inflict on the culprits, would be slow and terrible to behold. 

Whether it was these mercenaries, the beasts from the hamlet, innocent or not, Jakos would show no mercy. He smiled darkly at the prospect.

Treading for what seemed to be miles without end, Jakos stopped all of a sudden. Alta’s scream had stopped. Unease tightened the hunter’s chest in the looming, unnatural silence, dreading to fear that he was already too late.

Then from a distance, he spotted something. A dark, silhouetted form lay prone and dormant. Though the illuminations from the lanterns provided little source of light, it made the hunter stiffened, and his heart went instantly cold.

For a moment, Jakos thought the body belonged to Alta. Then, as he got closer to the prone form, he made a mocking snort and pressed into a run once more. 

Alta’s handiwork was everywhere as dead bodies of the fleeing mammals lay scattered on the uneven ground, an arrow or two lodged behind on their backs. Or their throats slit wide open, ear to ear. 

A quiet parental pride settled on Jakos’s chest at the economic efficiency of her work, before it was suddenly dashed away into urgent haste, going deeper into the trail knowingly and without complaint.

There weren’t many corpses along the way, but most fell anyway by Alta’s killing strikes, their features incongruous to the stark, imbecilic surprise of their sudden demise that Jakos suspected of dumb mammal beasts. Even a few had veered off course from the lantern trail and its protective light, taking their chances in the black abyss of the forest expanse. He could see them now as he passed by. And yet, there was something wrong with the corpses.

His pace lessened, then halted, and he immediately squinted his eyes at the closest body. A strange, black substance, like tar or ink, congealed to form around the mammal’s back, its bulbous mass thriving into what he believed to be a cancerous growth. It was the size of his hand, growing larger still, and it alarmed him even more that there were more than one of these things.

What the frack? Jakos mouthed, his face incomprehensible.

He checked on the next body, and the next before that and another. Every corpse that was just outside the range of the lanterns were literally littered by these black tides of sludge, spreading and consuming, showing no sign of slowing.

The sight of such desecration, even to mere beastmen, repulsed the hunter, disgust and revulsion writ heavily on his wizened face. He took a step back and scanned his surroundings, wondering what he and his comrades had gotten themselves into. It was very clear the forest was unnatural, wrong. There were rumours from neighbouring villages that a curse had settled over the woods. It became even more dangerous afterwards when Fool’s March was formed. 

Jakos was never one to believe in superstition nonsense, especially when it came to the mewling, cowering mammals who never dared to venture outside from the comfort of home. However, one thing was clear to him, and it was the fact that the lanterns were the key to keeping whatever maladies that afflicted the place even further.

Suddenly disturbed by the growing silence, Jakos pressed cautiously on, heading the trail that the lanterns had provided for him. His ears strained for a sound, anything that he could identify. But all he heard was nothing. Not even the local wildlife. It was as if something had cast a veil over the place and rendered everything mute. 

Overwhelming darkness greeted the hunter as further in the trail the lantern grew few and far between, its light dimming dangerously low. Some worked as they were intended, but most simply died out that left Jakos unable to perceive ahead. He only stopped at the edge between the light of the remaining lanterns and the pitch blackness to spot the familiar sludge. 

They were on the large trees now, inky tendrils sprouting from the bark, writhing and wriggling as if they were a thing alive. Even the ground had been affected by this infliction, tainted and covered by the substance.

As Jakos observed the situation, he came to learn the grim truth. He could not hope to believe that Alta had survived this, broken free from whatever foulness that had claimed this place and remained unscathed. Even the thought of recovering her body was impossible at this point. 

His teeth gritted as he thought the impossible. It galled him to abandon comrades, especially those with potential, but there was no possible chance for Jakos to proceed unless he suffered the similar fate as the corpses. He may be a reckless fool from time to time, but that didn’t make him a certified nutjob.

Just as the decision was made to regroup back with Maldock, at the corner of perception, Jakos saw something. It moved with inhuman speed, and he just managed to turn to face the threat, lashing out a swing with his long-handled mace.

The impact resounded with a satisfying crunch as the creature reeled back several feet away, creating a space for Jakos to brace for a fight. One swing of his mace was all it took to cripple or kill the target in the instant, but to his surprise, the creature was moving once more, faster and heading straight for him. 

Black elongated claws suddenly stretched out to strike at Jakos, but he managed to block the blow with the long handle of his mace. He thought he could take it, but the strength behind its strike was immense, and he was forced down to one knee, the creature suddenly pressing its claw further down. As the creature leaned forward, it revealed its face by the few remaining lanterns, and a cold shock fell on the hunter.

The creature was a mammal, a lupine wolf of the locannian breed. But all such familiarities ended there as Jakos instantly noticed the black tumorous growths and mutations that transformed the mammal into an even uglier form. Its body was misshapen, malformed, its shape unholy swollen by the blackness that oozed from the growths. One of its arms was dangling, limping side to side, and Jakos realized that this must be the part where he had struck earlier.

Grunting by the effort, Jakos quickly reached for a blade sheathed from the belt with his free hand and sliced the creature’s claws clean off by the wrist, earning a howl of rage and denial. Its wounded stump spluttered black ichor fluid that reeked of foul decay. Despite its strength, it was clearly bereft of any kind of intellect. It even lacked the rudimentary means of common sense, for it lunged without care for self-preservation.

Jakos thrusted the blade forward just before it opened its jaw and its row of too many fangs. The tip of his blade pierced easily through to its mouth, and at the other end, the corrupted wolf gurgled as familiar black ichor oozed to stain his arm.

Sensing that the wolf-creature was still twitching, Jakos twisted the blade and then tilted, splitting the mammal’s upper head in two. He followed next with a vicious downward strike of his mace that viciously ended the creature’s existence, slamming the rest of its head into a ruinous pulp.

As the creature collapsed in an undignified mess, Jakos stepped back for a breather. It had taken a heavy toll on him, for the beast had fractured his left arm. And the worst wasn’t over.

The moment for reprieve didn’t last long. From the darkness, lanky, silhouetted shapes emerged to surround the hunter as many pairs of eyes fixed on him with a blank, black gaze.

Jakos scanned his situation, realizing he was trapped with no chance of escape. He counted about a dozen, possibly more, none uncorrupted and readying themselves for the fatal blow that would be his end. 

For what might have been the longest time, he felt terrified…

And exhilarated.

As if emboldened by the challenge, Jakos peeled his teeth in a mirthless grin, suddenly invigorated by the prospect. His hands tightened, his heart racing fast. He bellowed aloud, fierce and determined, before the many eyes of the forest closed in around him.

Sorry, Mal. You’re on your own.

=======

Maldock’s throat was raw and sore from the constant shouting. He kept it going anyway, calling the names of his comrades despite knowing it was a futile attempt. The narrow-minded fool had a good start ahead of him. When compared to the two, Jakos had always been the better sprinter. 

But that didn’t change anything as Maldock pressed all the harder, heading deeper into the accursed forest.

“Screaming at your friends isn’t helping,” Farah said from behind, managing to catch up with him at a remarkable pace. “They could very well be dead.”

“Shut your mouth, ferret!” Maldock snapped back, not deigning to look back. He thought his message would be enough to silence her. Clearly, it didn't work. 

“I'm just saying. You can be reckless for all I care, but I would like to keep my tail intact and in one piece.”

Maldock’s brows furrowed ever deeper, but he continued to call out to them, raising his voice a little higher. It earned him a sigh from the ferret, but he could practically feel the smugness coming off her. 

The two proceeded on the lantern course, encountering no sign of resistance or obstacle. Like a shadow, Farah was behind the hunter every step of the way, her pace measured at a respectable distance. Where Maldock strained heavily in a mad rush to rescue his comrades, Farah seemed unaffected, unhinged, showing not an ounce of fatigue or out of breath.

It nagged Maldock at the back of his mind, and he realized just how dangerous these beasts were. 

“Oh, fine. Keep to your silent treatment,” Farah said with a bit of that playful scorn that grated on his nerves. “But since you’re tagging along for the ride, I guess I’ll stick around to see what happens.”

 

Maldock long prided himself on being the very best in his profession in the hunting world, but even his iron patience was wearing thin on this creature. Sure, a couple of people had gotten on his nerves, but he always shrugged it off as if it were nothing. This ferret, however, was the worst of the bunch. 

He thought of killing her at the spot, but suddenly disregarded the idea. Even if he succeeded, the ferret was well-guarded by a powerful individual, capable of sorcerous powers completely alien to his kind. Such news of her death would take days, weeks, before the duke caught wind of the events. But the news would come, and it would be his head once discovered.

Something latched onto his arm, and Maldock was shocked to discover it was Farah. She had a strong grip, enough to stop the hunter dead in his tracks. Instantly, he wanted to lash out, to make an example of her, but hesitated at the odd expression around her face.

Maldock had never understood mammals, incapable of reading the minute gestures or emotions these things would react to. Even the Arvoshian dialect was considered a challenge, and he always had Jakos translate things for him. But he could distinguish fear when he saw one, and Farah was very much afraid.

“What? What is it?”

Farah let go of his arm, her ears twitching left and right in sudden alertness. “Something isn’t right?”

“Something?” 

Farah nodded, earning a snort from the hunter.

“You must be imagining things.”

“I do not lie!”

Maldock blinked in annoyance. He should have ignored her warning, pressing onwards without a care. Only, he didn’t. The path ahead seemed to change somewhat, and he spotted several things that made the difference.

The first were the lanterns. Few were in workable condition, and fewer still functioned properly the deeper they ventured inward.

The second came the bodies. Or supposed to be. There should have been dead mammals on the path, some sign of struggle or even a note of their presence. They seemed to have vanished without a trace, as if they were not there, to begin with.

And last, the most obvious Maldock could plainly see, was the surroundings. Everything was covered in a sticky black substance, sludge, and tar, intermingling on the trees, on the ground, on every leaf and fern. What was worse, to his growing horror, it seemed to be moving, further expanding where the lanterns failed to light the way.

“W-what is this?” Maldock managed to utter, eyes growing wide. He turned back at Farah, who reacted far worse than he did.

Before Jakos could snap the ferret’s senses, something heavy impacted in the distance. The two jumped in surprise and looked straight on but couldn't perceive in the total darkness, listening to the whacking, crunching sound of metal onto flesh.

“Jakos,” Maldock said in concern and quickly fetched his torch. He tried to light it, even as Farah stared at the hunter in dawning horror. 

“You're not going out there, are you?”

Maldock said nothing, depressing the igniter as tiny sparks soon caught the torch alight.

When no answer came, Farah was furious. “This is suicide!” she blurted, moving in front of him, blocking his path.

“Move, ferret,” Maldock warned slowly, oddly calm, despite everything that had happened. When she didn’t concede, his hand was surreptitiously placed on the pommel of his blade, sheathed at his hip.

Farah met his glare with her own. “No.”

Maldock pulled the sword with lightning speed and pointed, the tip precariously close to just the edge of her gorget. 

“I won't repeat myself. Step. Aside.”

Farah looked at the blade, then back at him. She crossed her arms, standing her ground. “No.”

Maldock's brows furrowed, eyes burning red a hateful scorn. So fueled was his animosity for the mammal, he wasn’t aware that he raised his blade. His hand was shaking, teeth gritting, breathing just a little harder as he was set ready to kill her. 

All of this flashed moments in his head until he eventually, reluctantly, broke eye contact. A rude noise escaped his lips as he pulled the sword away, his every fibre screaming out aloud to kill but found no purchase.

======

Farah smiled a thin smile at her small victory, never showing the fear that was within inches of death. It was a risky move, reckless even for her. But she had come to the conclusion that if the hunter would do it, he would have done it already on their first meeting. 

Despite wanting to let the hunter get himself killed and eliminating one more nuisance from a long list of trouble, Farah couldn’t simply do it. She needed him, much as it irked her, and his skills if they were to get out of this place.

While the duke had ordered her to retrieve the artifact situated in the heart of the hamlet, it seemed impossible, even for Farah, to achieve her goal. Whatever the forest was becoming, was changing into, she didn’t want to simply wait and find out. 

She breathed in, and let it out. “Right. Come on now. Lets--”

The ferret trailed off, looking at the expression that marred on Maldock’s face. She had expected rage, denial, a hostility born out of desperation from the hunter as he turned. It wasn’t the case. Wide-eyed and open mouthed, the unmistakable fear etched on his eyes as he slowly took a step back.

Farah looked outright concerned, suddenly more alarmed at the hunter’s reaction than the forest itself. Then, her ears perked as she figured the reason. 

It was quiet. The sound of hammering ceased. She felt an overwhelming presence behind her, not realizing seconds after something gripped her and lifted her up by the throat.