Femi trudged behind Varga, his bandaged chest throbbing with every step. The snow-laden trees loomed around them, their branches bent low under the weight of ice, skeletal fingers ready to snatch at his fur.
This wasn't his favorite place,especially not after the dire wolf.
Varga had clearly chosen a different path. The pines here stood denser, their needles blackened by frost, and the air carried a sharper, earthier scent, like wet soil and iron. No trails, just untouched snow. Femi's nose twitched at the stillness, his claws flexing nervously.
Ahead, Varga crushed through the underbrush, her leather boots leaving deep, deliberate prints in the snow. Femi followed, his own pawsteps sinking into the powder, the cold biting between his pads. The twin suns barely pierced the canopy, casting the woods in a dull, gloom that made every shadow stretch too long.
After a while, Varga veered onto a packed-down trail, hoof marks, old but visible. Femi's ears flicked at every rustle in the brush. Once, a bird burst from the snow in a flurry of wings; another time, something small and quick darted up a tree, leaving only a shudder of branches.
"I hope I'm just seeing things," he muttered, his breath fogging the air.
The deeper they went, the tighter the trees grew, their trunks knotted like old scars. The snow thinned, replaced by patches of frozen earth and clusters of thorny brambles that snagged his fur. The air turned damp, thick with the scent of rotting wood and something acidic, like bile.
Varga slowed down, then she crouched lower to examine tracks in a half-frozen puddle. "Amour Bear," she grunted, pointing to the deep, clawed imprints.
"They are very big and aggressive especially when you enter their territory."
Femi's whiskers twitched. The tracks were massive, each pawprint wider than his head. And did she say armored bear?
"So bears have bulletproof here too? Wonders shall never end," he lamented silently, his tail coiling behind him.
His gaze darted between Varga and the shadowed trees, half-expecting a hulking, metal-clad beast to charge from nowhere.
Varga turned, her sharp eyes locking onto him as if she'd heard his thoughts. "No marks on the trees," she said, nodding at the unbroken bark. "Not its territory. Probably Just passing through. So stop your shaking."
Femi stared at her like she'd spoken nonsense. But he forced his fur to lie flat, even as his mind raced. "Me ending up in this forest can only be the work of enemies."
They pressed on. The pines gave way to skeletal, pale-barked trees, their branches stripped bare. Thick strands of frost-webbed silk hung between them, glistening like ghostly ropes in the dim light. The ground was eerily clear, no snow, just frozen dirt and the occasional withered fern, brittle underfoot.
"Where are we?" Femi whispered, his voice barely louder than the wind.
Varga didn't answer. Instead, she pulled her fur-lined hood up and struck flint to torch. The sudden flame made Femi flinch, his dark-adapted eyes burning at the brightness.
"Take this," Varga ordered, thrusting the torch at him.
Femi grabbed it with his left hand, the heat seeping into his chilled claws.
"Madam, I asked where we are," he pressed, ears flattening.
"Old burns," Varga said curtly. "Now walk ahead."
Femi's stomach twisted. He shot her a wary look, but her face was unreadable beneath the hood. Swallowing hard, he stepped forward, torch held high.
"If I die, I swear, you and your generation will not have peace," he grumbled under his breath.
The torchlight flickered, casting long, shifting shadows that danced like specters. Femi's ears twitched at the faint clicking above. He glanced up—
—and nearly screamed.
Thick, glistening strands of webbing stretched between the trees, some as wide as his fingers. Nestled among them were dark, round shapes, swollen egg sacs, pulsing slightly as if something inside breathed.
A shiver ran down his spine. He whirled to protest, but Varga was already scanning the branches, an arrow nocked.
Then...."There."
The bowstring twanged. A shrill hiss cut the air as something thudded to the ground, it was a spider, its body the size of a hare, legs thrashing. Eight blood-red eyes glared at Femi before it stiffened, venom dripping from needle-like fangs.
Femi's fur stood on end.
"Nice work," Varga muttered. "I knew you'd make good bait."
Femi's voice came out a squeak. "It....it would've killed me?"
"Paralyzed you. Then wrapped you up for later." Varga shrugged. "I'd have killed it before it ate you."
"How generous of you," Femi spat, sinking to the ground, his bandaged chest heaving.
Varga ignored him, retrieving her arrow and slicing open the spider's abdomen. She extracted a small sac, pierced it with three arrows, then tucked them away.
"What the hell's name is that?" Femi demanded, pointing at the grotesque creature.
"Froststrider," Varga replied.
Now that he saw it clearly, the thing was the size of a medium dog, its eight spindly legs twitching in death throes. Frozen, jewel-like eyes reflected the torchlight, still gleaming with malice even as black ichor seeped into the snow.
"Let's go," Varga grunted.
Femi didn't need telling twice. He scrambled ahead, torch held high, weaving around webs and skirting every shadow. At one point, his foot brushed against something hard a skull, half-buried in frost. His stomach lurched.
Finally, the webs thinned. The trees grew farther apart, the snow returning underfoot. Femi nearly collapsed in relief.
"This place is truly an evil forest," he gasped, looking up—
But Varga was already moving. She wasn't done.
---
Femi's paws ached as he continues to suffer through the snow, his claws sinking into the powdery white with every step. The cold gnawed at his fur.
"Stop, rat."
Varga's voice cut through the silence like a blade. The Krag stood a few paces ahead, her frame casting a long shadow over the snow. They had just passed through the densest part of the forest, where the gnarled branches choked out most of the pale daylight. Femi halted, his brown eyes flicking toward her.
Varga reached over, her calloused fingers closing around the torch in his grip. Without a word, she smothered the flames against the snow, the embers hissing into nothingness before she tucked the spent torch into her belt.
"Follow."
Her breath curled in the frigid air as she spoke. Femi had expected them to turn back toward the Krag camp, but instead, Varga veered sharply, leading them deeper into the wilderness. The Ratman hesitated for only a second before scurrying after her.
Soon, their path was blocked by a half-frozen creek. The ice along its edges was jagged and uneven, cracked in places where dark water still churned beneath. Leafless reeds jutted up through the snow like spears, their brittle stalks rattling in the wind. The occasional cry of a bird echoed from the treetops.
Femi's throat burned with thirst. The water was so clear, so inviting. His mind emptied of everything else. The cold, the danger, even Varga's presence faded into the background. All that mattered was the drink waiting for him.
He lurched forward, paws outstretched—
A sudden, sharp pain jerked him back. Varga had seized him by the scruff of his neck, her grip iron-tight. Femi's legs kicked uselessly in the air as she lifted him, her tusked face twisted into a scowl.
"I said stop."
Her growl was low, dangerous. Femi froze, his pulse hammering in his ears.
"What just happened?" he blurted, his voice too loud in the stillness. His body had moved on its own, like something had pulled him toward the water.
Varga's green eyes burned into him. "I said follow, not lead. Wander off, and you'll be dead before you taste that water."
She dropped him unceremoniously into the snow before turning back toward the creek. Her gaze swept over the ice, calculating. Then,she bent down,with a grunt, hefted a heavy stone, and hurled it at the frozen surface.
CRACK.
The ice splintered.
Something massive surged beneath the dark water. A scaled head, larger than Femi's entire body, broke the surface for a single, terrifying instant. The creature's eyes locked onto Femi's.
They looked almost human.
Then it was gone, vanishing beneath the water with barely a ripple.
Femi shuddered.
"Was that a mammy water?" he whispered, his voice trembling. Spirits in the deep,that lures the unwary to drown.
Varga snorted. "Frostscale snapper. Lures its prey with its gaze, then drags them down." She bared her tusks. "So if you stick your nose in there, little rat, it'll drag you under before you can scream."
Femi's fur bristled. Every thought of escape, of slipping away from the Krags and vanishing into the forest, now seemed like madness. How long would he last out here alone? A day? An hour?
"Thank you very much, Varga," he said, dropping to his knees in the snow. "I would have been dancing with my ancestors today."
She grunted, unimpressed, and yanked him up by the scruff again before leading them downstream, keeping a wide berth from the water's edge.
Eventually, they found a shallow crossing where the ice was thin, the water beneath bubbling over jagged rocks. Varga leaped down, her boots crunching through the brittle surface as she waded across. Femi followed, pausing just long enough to scoop a handful of icy water into his mouth. It was so cold it burned, but it washed away the dryness in his throat.
On the other side, Varga slowed. Her nostrils flared as she studied the snow. Femi caught the scent too,something musky.
Was it the prey.
Ahead, the trees thinned, opening into a snow-covered meadow. Varga crouched, brushing aside the powdery white to reveal blackened soil beneath. The ground looked scorched, as if fire had raged here long ago.
At the meadow's center lay a frozen pond, its surface a milky sheet of ice. Leafless reeds stood like skeletal sentinels along its edges, and beneath the ice, shadows moved. Fish, maybe. Or worse.
Without a word, Varga stalked toward a cluster of snow-laden bushes near a rocky outcrop. She unwrapped her arrows, and settled into a crouch, her bow resting across her lap. Femi huddled close beside her, his tail twitching with restless energy.
The wait was agony. The wind howled, stirring the snow into ghostly spirals. Femi's instincts screamed at him to do something,that this area wasn't safe, to flee this cursed place, but Varga remained still as stone.
"Can we...." he started.
Movement.
A snow hare emerged from the brush, its white coat blending seamlessly with the landscape. It paused, ears twitching, before vanishing again. Femi suppressed a sigh. Surely they hadn't come all this way for a hare?
But Varga didn't react. Her breathing remained steady, her gaze fixed.
Then, the bushes at the far edge of the meadow trembled.
Not from the wind.
A stag stepped into the open.
Its dark fur was dusted with snow, its ribs visible beneath its winter coat. Black stripes ran along its sides, reminding Femi of the zebras, he had seen in pictures. Its antlers were sharp, looking proud. The beast moved cautiously, using its hooves to scrape away the snow, revealing blackened earth beneath and a single, fragile green shoot pushing through.
Femi's claws dug into the snow.
Varga moved like lightning.
In one fluid motion, she rose, drew her bow, and loosed an arrow.
The shot struck true, just behind the stag's shoulder. The beast reared, its cry sharp with pain, before stumbling. Blood splattered the snow as it staggered, its legs buckling. It collapsed, its breath coming in ragged, panicked bursts.
Varga didn't wait. She strode forward, knife in hand, and ended the stag's suffering with a quick slash to its throat. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, metallic and rich.
Femi's mouth watered despite himself.
I go chop well to day.
Varga wasted no time. She hacked down sturdy branches, lashed them together with rope, and heaved the stag onto the crude sled. With a grunt, she began dragging it back toward camp, Femi trailing behind, the scent of blood thick in his nose.
"So are we finally leaving this nonsense place?" Femi asked, relief coloring his voice.
Then, a rustle in the brush.
Varga dropped the sled's rope, her bow already in hand. She nocked an arrow, her eyes locked on the disturbance.
"Pull," she ordered, her voice firm.
Femi obeyed, his claws tightening around the rope as he made sure his axe was secure at his belt. Varga stood guard, her stance ready, her gaze unblinking.
"Abeg, let us leave in peace," Femi muttered under his breath as he heaved the sled forward. "I for one won't come back."