Yusuf Baba Abdullahi could not decide if he was more proud, worried or annoyed with the people under his tentative command.

  Especially one, particular person.

  A person, who at this very moment, stood atop a tall rock, waving around a spear with the head of a sabertooth panther stuck on it, and roared a night-splitting shout at the torch-wielding crowd below.

  “Fuck sabertooth tigers!” Kyle belowed. “FUCK SABERTOOTH TIGERS!” the gaggle of excited young men hollered back.

  “Fuck hyenas!”

  “FUCK HYENAS!”

  “Fuck wolves!”

  “FUCK WOLVES!”

  “We are the Apes! ” Kyle pulled off the panther head, pretended to facefuck it, then punted it towards the crowd below. “We are the Apes! Badass Apes! Killah’ Apes! Ape Army! Apes! Together! Strong!”

  “APES! STRONG!” the men, or rather boys, mostly, screamed.

  “Haroo Apes! Haroo! Haroo! Haroo!” Kyle started beating his chest, chanting.

  “HAROO! HAROO! HAROO! HAROO!”

  Baba stared at the crowd with distaste. Over the last few days, since they found Danton’s group, they picked more and more survivors by the hour. Unsurprisingly, most of them were young men in their physical prime. Everyone who was not strong, healthy, and young enough to climb trees or sprint away from danger… simply left a mangled corpse, or more usually, just a smear of blood where the predators found them. It seemed like the local fauna had finally realized that the naked bipeds suddenly appearing in the woods were, despite their odd smell and behavior, easy snacks.

  As of yesterday, they found eighteen young men of nearly every possible ethnicity, though most of them hailed from East and South Asia. They also found four more women, all of them young and quick on their feet. He no longer cared to remember how many corpses they found. The unlikely survival of the Nun and her skinny older friend was even more perplexing in this light.

  And these skewed demographics proved both a blessing and a curse. Picking the young men one by one let Danton and Baba shape them up into a semblance of military order, enforced with the simplest phrases in English, lots of miming, intimidation, and relatively mild use of violence.

  Riding the coattails of the shock the boys were in after their apparent resurrection, they made them focus on rudimentary survival. They gave them sharpened sticks for spears, showed them what plants to gather, how to start fires, and how to bunch up in defense against the dangerous fauna skulking around. Luckily, nearly all of them came from poor, rural backgrounds and thus were not completely useless when it came to woodcraft or violence. None of them spoke more than a handful of words in English, but seemed to learn quickly when motivated by Kyle’s shouting and occasional punches.

  The problem was not that they were too timid, but that they quickly grew too bold to be easily manageable. Separated from their homes, angry, terrified, and half-starved, the young men were on the verge of turning feral at the drop of a hat. Baba already had to break up several fights, patch up a few injuries caused by them, and in less than two days it became obvious that the women in their group would have to be separated from the men, and under Baba’s watchful eyes, lest they would be ambushed by predators of the bipedal kind.

  And Kyle’s primitive bouts of charisma, and his latest display of insane bravado did not steer their little tribe in the right direction. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  “Out with it, Sergeant,” Captain Danton said to him, not taking his eyes off the javelin head he was sharpening. “Your miserable frown suggests you either dislike what you see, or suffer from terrible indigestion.”

  Baba shook his head. “I don’t like where this is going. There dey trouble.”

  Danton put away the javelin, satisfied with it, and stod up. “Aren’t you a glass-half-empty chap? Our boys just had their first grand victory. Let them celebrate.”

  “I do not deny, the trap for the panther was excellent, Captain. Your plan was better than mine,” Baba said, with nearly imperceptible derision in his voice. “Still, the final mad rush they did, and the way your… our Tee-El leaped at the creature to stab it in the throat was the height of idiocy.”

  “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree with you. What Kyle had done was terribly reckless and could easily have ended in the panther savaging the lot of them and escaping,” Danton took a handful of nuts from his pouch and popped them in his mouth. “Still, it just so happened to be the best, or dare I say, only solution in that particular situation. It was either that, or that bloody thing would have kept on praying on us and escaping our traps.”

  Baba looked at Danton. Over the few days they spent together, trying to keep a gaggle of people alive, he learned to both deeply respect and dislike Danton. He respected the man for his incredible skills and implacable calm. But his deep principles rebelled against the Captain’s cold pragmatism.

  “Look at them Captain.” he gestured at the cheering youths, who were now busy playing football with the severed head, “they dey just boys. Children really. We should not dey using them as cannon fodder against monsters, even if that dey da most practical thing to do, and even if they themselves volunteer.”

  Danton shrugged, impassive as ever. “We do what is required to be done, Sergeant. I understand your principles, those of a man of faith and a father. But I do not share them.” He shared a handful of nuts with Baba. “We agreed that I should be in charge, if not for another reason that every other solution would pit you and me against each other.” Danton eyed Baba’s superior physique without any fear or apprehension. “Which I think would be a marvelously interesting challenge, but better left for more leisurely time, when a more important work is not at hand.”

  It was on Baba’s mind as well. Since they met, there was this unspoken tension between them, as if circumstances forced a tiger and a bear to cooperate against their natures. The second he met Danton, he contemplated how to kill the man if the need arose, and he was certain Danton thought the same.

  “Nonetheless,” Danton continued, “It is my decision to let the lads sort themselves out as they see fit, as long as they maintain an ounce of order and listen to us when necessary. The more we intervene, the more they'll resent us. And as there are only three of us, or possibly two and a half, accounting for Kyle’s dubious wits, that would not be good odds to be resented by two dozen angry men.”

  “Still, Sir,” Baba nodded at Kyle, who hopped off the rock and joined the impromptu soccer game, “Da fool’s whipping them up into a frenzy, over their victory. That’s not how you shape up men into a functional unit. That’s how you make a posse of thugs for yourself. Seen it a thousand times.”

  “This is not Africa, Baba.” Danton said. “The circumstances are different. There are no tribes or gangs. At least, not yet. These lads have nothing in common except for youth. Our ‘Team Leader’ Kyle, bless his dimwit arse, is giving them something to bond over. His stupid antics are beneficial. And if he crosses the line, we can always clout him ‘round the ear, to show the rest that the fundamental rules of civility, if nothing else, should be obeyed.”

  Baba harrumphed in uneasy agreement.

  “In any case, I expect you, Sergeant, to do the clouting if need be. It would only be appropriate, given our respective ranks and your fatherly manner.” Danton smirked, and started towards the fire where the rest of their group huddled for warmth. Baba followed him.

  Nine people greeted them with their firelit faces. The Nun, whom Baba found both mildly annoying and a keen spirit. Nakry, quiet, and easily ignored by everyone, which he considered a mistake as her survival skills were nearly on par with his own. Jenny Láng, whom he found extremely annoying, boorish and loud, but could not help feeling protective of. He saw his daughter in every strong-willed young woman he met, even against better judgment.

  There were four other women by the fire. Inzali, a Burmese farmgirl who died of electrocution when trying to fix a faulty powerline. Sofia and Romina, two Mexican sisters who perished in a car crash, only to wake up upon swampy grassland and were forced to run from a pack of hyenas. And finally Riva, an Israeli border guard who was seconds too slow to react to an explosive boobytrap, and after being brought back into existence, spent her first two days and nights in this world hidden in a burrow and fending off wolves with a sharp stick. All of them were half-starved, tired, cold, and terrified, but there was stony determination in each pair of eyes.

  Still, he was glad that all but one man were kept separate from them, to avoid risking dangerous temptation, which could only end in violence. He charged the surprisingly reasonable Farrukh with the duty of guarding them, not so much as because they could not protect themselves, but simply because it sent a clear message to the rest of the boys. Nobody was to bother the women without Farrukh’s permission, and nobody was to bother Farrukh without incurring Baba’s wrath. Especially after the boy joined Baba for the morning prayer, and kept close ever since.

  That, and because with much effort put into twisting nettle fiber into a string, and carving a flat stick with stone blades, they managed to produce a rudimentary bow and a few arrows for Farrukh, who showed to be terrifyingly skilled with even such a makeshift weapon. Nobody dared to challenge him after he sniped a bushbird mid-flight.

  “Atenshun! Officer on deck!” The Nun joked as they arrived.

  “Carry on,” Danton sighed, and plopped by the fire. “By the by, we’re not in the Navy, Sister Mary Brigitte. We do not even have a deck under our feet, as you surely can ascertain for yourself.”

  “Eh, simply wanted tae git into the spirit of the thing, all ye lads bein’ sae stiff and booted, is all,” she responded and gave him a mock salute.

  There were chuckles all around, even though half of the people by the fire barely spoke English. While he and the Nun disagreed on plenty of things, he could not ignore how good she was at making people safe, at ease, and easily obedient, without letting her guard down around strangers. He did not know much about Christian monasteries, but it seemed to him, they could not be all that different from the military, where the truly competent and perceptive hover around the lower middle ranks.

  “So, now that you all had the time to think,” Baba asked, looking at Mary Brigitte but addressing the rest in a sweeping hand gesture, “what is your decision? As I told you before, the only reasonable chance of long-term survival lies with my friend Jack, by the riverbank.” he hadn't told them about the Duplicators, wary of their reaction, but still had to begrudgingly admit that, with their group rapidly growing beyond its ability to feed itself off the land, this was the only good enough short term solution he could think of.

  “We find new folk every day,” she pointed out, measuring him with a careful gaze, “I know traipsing aboot the woods isnae the safest thing to do. But if we go back towards the river now, we would be abandoning all the new arrivals tae their deaths. That would be on all our consciences.”

  “I vote we go to the camp. I am tired and hungry!” Jenny raised her hand.

  “This ain't a democracy, lassie,” Mary Brigitte frowned at her. “But I suppose you dae have a point. If we keep on our search, we will ourselves die fae the cold or hunger soon enough. There was frost on the grass in the mornin’,” she sighed, slapped her own thigh, and raised her hand as well.

  There was a brief confusion, when everyone by the fire had to have the question translated for them. Soon, all hands were up. All but Farrukh’s.

  “Not go.” Farrukh shook his head. “Stay. Look. Look for people.” he pointed at himself, and mimed looking around.

  Danton turned to the young man, and spoke a few quiet words in a mixture of Farsi and Russian. Farrukh argued, with angry tears forming in his eyes. Danton kept on speaking in his utterly calm, schoolteacher’s manner, until Farrukh hung down his head in shame and raised his hand as well.

  “Ok. I go.”

  “We are in agreement then.” Baba said, after a brief pause. “We will get to safety, then, prepare, and send out a team of rescuers again.”

  “Aboooout time, Sarge.” Kyle wandered towards them, pushed past Baba, and sat between Danton and Jenny. “Me and the boys did helluva work lately. Time we hit the base, rest, eat somethin’ that ain’t a fuckin’ nut or a dead squirrel, and put some fuckin’ pants on. I'm all for rescuing random peeps and being a hero, but not having my stomach empty and my balls glazed with the morning frost.”

  There were cheers around the fire, to meet the cheers of the men around the rock. Baba had to admit that while Kyle was about as smart as two rocks put together, he was plenty charismatic. Only him, Farrukh and the Nun seemed unimpressed.

  “Speakin’ of being cold,” Kyle turned to Jenny, putting an arm around her, “care join me for a walk? Im half-stiff from the cold, could use some cuddlin’ To share body heat, you know,” he grinned.

  “Yer half-stiff alright, lad, as we can all plainly see,” the Nun quipped, overhearing him, and pointed at his crotch, which Kyle hastily covered. “Jenny stays right ‘ere with us. She is a person, nae ye hero’s reward. You’ll need tae, ah.. take matters in yer own hands, ye ken?” She was smiling at him, but there was no humor in it, only warning.

  “Oh please shut your hole you old penguin!” Kyle spat back. “I don’t remember you doing jack shit to help when I fought that panther-thing, my face inches away from its fucking maw.” He stood up. “‘Sides, I'm not forcing her, just askin’, is all. No harm in askin’ a girl a fucking question, is it?”

  For a moment, nobody spoke, and the only sound around the fire was embers cracking.

  “I…sorry Kyle, I cannot. Not today, please. I'm sorry.” Jenny muttered, and scuttled closer to the Nun, who held her protectively and shot a cold glare at Kyle.

  “You asked, lad, she said she insae going. Let her be.”

  Kyle ignored the Nun completely, and sneered at Jenny, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Fuckin’ Chink tease. Crawlin’ all over me where you needed protection. Hangin’ by my dick when wolves were ‘round. Now that you’re safe and think you don’t need me, suddenly ol’ Kyle ain’t so hot anymore, huh?”

  He spat on the ground and left.

  “Im sorry…” Jenny muttered again. “Kyle was right. But… I cannot, not today…”

  “he can’t force you do anything,” Baba said with fatherly finality. “Not today, not ever. Same goes for all da other men. They try something, I’ll straighten them up.”

  Jenny chuckled through tears. “It is not that. Kyle is a pretty boy. Handsome. It would be ok. It is just…” she looked at the Nun pleadingly. Surprisingly, it was not her but Nakry who reacted first, wrapping the girl in a hug and kissing her forehead. The old woman babbled for a few seconds, then produced a wad of dry lichen from somewhere, and showed it to the girl.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Oh!” The Nun slapped her forehead, “Of course! How silly o’ me. Must be getting senile, If I forgot aboot this particular joy of the youth. Been a rather long while fer me.” She nodded at Nakry. “Good thinking, my auld biddy. This species of lichen is harmless and plenty absorbent.” She looked around the fire. “Menfolk, be so kind as to give us some privacy.”

  Baba frowned. ”Is something wrong? Can we help?”

  “Aye, you can help by going away, an’ nae eavesdropping. Be off, lads.”

  It finally dawned on Baba, who, after all, had a wife and two daughters in his previous life.

  “Understood, of course. We will give you privacy. Tell me if you’ll need any more…absorbent resources.”

  “Eh, rather I search for it myself. Nae all plants are good fer this, and that would be a painful mistake tae make, seeing how plenty of plantlife ‘ere is poisonous or toxic.”

  Baba hastily raised and took Farrukh by the arm.

  “What happening?” The boy asked.

  “Important woman things. We leave them alone, now.” Baba said and pushed him along.

  Danton joined them, a smirk fighting on his face with a frown.

  “I admit that is one problem I did not anticipate.”

  “Hopefully the Nun knows how to teach them to take care of their… hygiene issues and not leave too much of a scent trail,” Baba said, thoughtfully. “the smell of blood might attract predators.”

  Danton shook his head, grinning. “Not something to worry your pious head about, Sergeant. Have you stood downwind of our unwashed, soap-deprived army lately? We reek like a foot that's been lodged in an arsehole for a month. Every predator in a ten-mile radius already has our scent aplenty, and a few drops of blood are not going to make an appreciable difference.”

  “Even so,” Baba said, “I think we should change our movement formation. Bunch up. The best, most trustworthy fighters around the women. Fan out sentries, and pull in our trailblazers close. It dey slower, but safer this way. We do not want the panther situation to happen again.”

  Theo shook his head gently. “I am not so sure Sergeant. My gut tells me to speed up and find Jack’s Camp as soon as possible.”

  Baba measured him with a look. “You are expecting trouble, sir.”

  Danton hesitated before answering. Hesitated too long for Baba’s taste. “Can’t really tell. Maybe your pessimism is rubbing off on me. By the way, you have my apologies. You were correct about our posse developing their camaraderie In the wrong direction. Perhaps they could use more of your fatherly guidance. Your influence seems to have improved young Farrukh a lot. Maybe this is a good example of what should be done with the rest.”

  “I will.”

  “Still, maybe consult the Nun first.”

  “Brigitte? Why? She's a wise woman I suppose, but she knows next to nothing about running a unit-”

  “Oh, she might not. But she is good at inspiring obedience without being so… ” he pointed at Baba.  “ well… terrifying. We don't want the boys to behave just because they are afraid of you. We want them to behave because they warmed to the idea of working together as a unit for the common good. After what's happened by the fire, I do not think we should rely on Kyle's charisma any longer. There will be time soon enough when this boy will fall to his vices, and have to be punished. And if his charisma is the only thing that keeps the group together, the group will unravel. Talk to the Nun, Baba once she's done playing nurse.”

  Theo went to the boys, patting their backs, and smiling. Pointing at work to be done. For all the chaos Kyle’s antics cost them, he was not all that bad at organizing their little camp. Sentries with spears and torches were spread around in easy eyesight distance from one another. There were several small manageable bonfires all over the clearing. Short command from Theo, and the men were done goofing around and were now sharpening spears or collecting firewood, or just huddling together for warmth. It was not a military camp by any stretch of the imagination, let alone by Baba’s elevated standards. But it was a far cry from just a bunch of scared civilians. To Baba, they resembled a troop of cavemen of the most primitive kind, the ones who barely discovered sharp sticks and fire, and were delighted by their newfound powers. All that was missing was the sound of drums and some more chanting and dancing around the hearths.

  As if on cue from his thoughts, some of the boys started singing. The melody was Auld Lang Syne, but every man provided his own half-remembered lyrics in his native tongue, Into a masculine cacophony that soon devolved into joyful roaring.

  He was almost tempted to join the chorus himself when suddenly another voice, a completely alien voice coming from the oppressive darkness of the woods joined in.

  A voice that seemed human only in its cadence, but not in the actual sound.

  It was as if a wolf was trying to mimic a human song, without the right mouth to do it with.

  “What the fuck? What the actual fuck is that sound, Sarge?” Kyle said, his eyes going wide. One by one all the men around the clearing shut up, leaving the infernal howling to be the only sound reverberating through the wilderness.

  “What the fuck is that sound, Sarge?” Kyle said again. “Sounds like a fucking werewolf on Auto-Tune.” The howling was getting closer. Echoing around the woods, it undulated in tone and pitch, swiftly moving from reverberating bass, like that of a foghorn, through an ululating song and up to high pitched throat singing. And throughout that, never leaving the rhythm and melody of the final tunes of Auld Lang Syne, looped endlessly. Baba felt a chill run down his spine and his hair standing on end, but he snapped out of it.

  “Bunch up everyone! Formation! Formation around the campfire, now! Sentries on me! Retreat! Kyle!” he roared. “Shape the men up, defensive formation, Spears up. Farrukh!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Up dat rock.” He pointed at the outcropping that Kyle climbed down from.” Arrow at da ready. Eyes open. But do’n shoot at anything unless I tell you so. Sabi?” His eyes swept over the boys. They were frantically running, following his orders out of sheer fear. Soon, they stood shoulder to shoulder, spears extended like a giant human hedgehog, with the roaring bonfire at the back and the rock flanking them on the side. The women bunched up around Mary Brigitte, who somehow, despite her short stature, towered over them, makeshift club in hand.

  All but one that is.

  Riva, the Israeli border guard pushed under Bridgitte's arm, grabbed a spare spear and joined Baba.

  “Whaddya doing girl?!” he snapped at her.

  “All due respect sir.” The woman said defiantly, “I'm a soldier too. I'm done being protected.” He measured her quickly and nodded.

  “Alright, then shimmy up this rock. Protect Farrukh. Don't let anything sneak up on him.” His eyes swept the clearing again, and focused on Kyle.

  “Boy! You counted everyone? The sentries reported back?”

  Kyle did a quick count. “Fuck, sir. Hamish is missing. We gotta go find him!” he shouted, and started towards the green darkness, with a few boys in tow.

  “No. Wait.” Baba grabbed his arm, and silenced him with a gesture. “Listen.”

  The howling stopped. Over the cracking fire and their own terrified breaths, they could hear something else instead.

  Sobbing.

  Agonized cry.

  A slurred plea for help, as from someone who was barely clinging to their life.

  A cry that ended with a quiet, wet gurgle.

  Then, incongruously, a cry sounded again. Just as pained, and full of anguish, but somehow stronger, reverberating with strange, inhuman harmony.

  “Sarge,” Kyle whispered, “We got to go after Hamish!” He strained against Baba’s grasp on his shoulder. “He must be just behind these bushes, right there. Something is fucking eating him, Sarge!”

  Baba held him still, and spoke with a hollow, haunted voice.

  “Hamish is dead, boy. Whatever is crying out there dis not him. Dis not human.” He swallowed, heavily. “Merciful Allah! So we are in Hell, and demons besiege us…”

  Baba shot a knowing look towards Danton, who gave him the tiniest nod in silent agreement.

  “This is a bloody stupid idea, Sergeant,” Danton sighed. “But what choice do we have? Whatever is skulking in there, will hunt us with impunity otherwise.” He exchanged his spear for a short, chert-tipped javelin and his trusty antler-dagger. “Be a chap Sarge, and take the right. Make yourself conspicuous. I’ll sneak up from the left, around that maple copse. ”

  Baba spoke up without looking back. “Keep formation. Nobody leaves on their own. Do not run under any circumstances. If we are not back in five minutes, wait by da fire until dawn and head south.”

  He weighed the heavy, iron-headed spear in his left hand. His right hand found the sling tucked under the belt, pulled it out, and loaded a stone into the pouch. Not the usual plum-sized pebble he would use for hunting, but one thrice the size, and shaped like a lens with its edges knapped to scalpel sharpness. Tiger-killing projectile.

  He spun the sling in a deceptively lazy arc, making it hum.

  Step by step, he approached the wall of the woods where Hamish was last seen.

  The infernal mockery of a human cry had ceased.

  He was no more than fifteen steps from the edge of the woods, when the shadows stirred in it, and he saw twin pale dots shining in the dark.

  Animal eyes reflecting the moonlight.

  He whipped the sling underhand, not even bothering to swing it to full power. The projectile blew through the bushes, and hit something with a hollow thud.

  Baba swallowed a curse. Must have hit a tree trunk. But the pale silver dots disappeared.

  He burst forward, transferring the spear to his right hand. Smashing through the bushes, he scythed the spear to the left, while strifing to the right. If anything hid right behind the shrubs, it would have been cleaved in two but the big-leafed spearhead.

  The shrubs were the only casualty. With them cut down, the meager light from the bonfire pierced the stygian darkness of the woods. Baba whipped the spear in a tight arc, scanning the darkness around and behind him.

  He saw Hamish.

  Or more precisely, he saw what remained of him. The body was disemboweled, cut savagely from crotch through the belly and the chest and up the neck. The stone blade that did the work only stopped when it reached the boy’s upper jaw, where it was rammed-in with such a savage might that it pinned him to a tree trunk by the head. It was as if some incredible force converted him from a human being to a filet in one strike.

  Baba’s eyes widened in horror when he saw that, despite his guts spilling all over the forest floor, Hamish was still clinging to life. The eyes still twitched with dying agony, and the tongue tried to wriggle in the jawless hole in the neck, desperate for the gulp of air that the bisected lungs could not inhale.

  “Merciful God-” he muttered when his subconscious instinct kicked in.

  The thick shadow that hung over the dying boy was not, after all, cast by tree branches.

  It exploded toward him with soundless, unstoppable speed.

  Baba was too close to change the hold on the spear shaft, and stab at the shadow, so he just flung his arms forward, slamming the spear like a quarterstaff towards the suddenly visible demonic eyes.

  Baba was a strong man. He was by far the strongest man he had ever known, thanks to a quirk of genetics that made him a powerful slab of flesh, but also thanks to a lifetime of using his prodigious strength in both combat and everyday life. He never saw the inside of a gym, but could flip tractor tires like they were child’s toys.

  The shadow stopped his mighty blow dead, as if he struck a concrete wall.

  The response came immediately.

  Not as a punch, but a nearly contemptuous slap, that nevertheless sent Baba flying.

  He turned the fall into a roll, and sprung back up, his head swimming from the blow. The spear was broken in half, the iron spearhead gone. He flung the half-staff like a club, only to flip it end-on-end at the last moment and stab with the broken tip.

  The shadow was almost fast enough to dodge it.

  Almost.

  Baba aimed where he suspected his opponent's gut would be. But the shadow turned out to be a fair bit shorter than Baba, and the wooden stake hit it in the chest instead. Baba felt the wood pierce flesh and scrape against the ribs, but not penetrate.

  The shadow snarled, a strange harmonic sound, and slapped the stake away. It grabbed Baba by the arm and slammed him to the ground, near effortlessly. It bore on top of him, grabbing him by the hair.

  Baba was not a novice when it came to ground combat. Just as his legs shot up and wrapped themselves around the shadow’s torso, his hand reached for the man’s throat.

  For it was a man.

  And yet, it was not.

  Even in the near complete dark, Baba could tell that the shadow’s proportions were all wrong. The neck he grabbed was like a bull’s and the jaw was overly wide and yet chinless, like an ape’s. He grabbed the creature’s throat in a viselike grip, and squeezed the windpipe. Too late he realized his mistake. The chinless bastard tucked his head in, and, suddenly exposed to a slim ray of light, flashed his giant, apelike teeth at Baba.

  The flat, broad teeth that half a second later closed on Baba’s outstretched forearm with the power of an industrial guillotine.

  The agony of the bite cutting through his flesh, and slowly gnawing through his bone made Baba almost oblivious to the arrival of another predator.

  A thin javelin pierced the creature’s bicep, making it rear back in confusion. Immediately after, a slight, but weasel-fast man whipped out of the bushes, and rammed a sharpened antler between the creature’s ribs, aiming for the armpit artery. The antler-dagger struck true, but could not go between the powerful ribs, no more than the stake could.

  The startled creature backhanded Danton, and leaped over Baba to rush at the new opponent.

  Baba grunted with pain, and grabbed the gushing wound right above his wrist. He could not afford to bleed unconscious right now, and he could not back out of the fight either.

  Meanwhile, Danton rolled away from a savage blow the creature tried to deliver, and circled it. He stopped with his back towards the clearing, bathed in an orange glow of the fire. The shadowy figure lunged at him, but stopped in its tracks when Danton whipped up the iron spearhead he found on the ground. It tried to slap the weapon away and grab him, but the javelin stuck in its arm made the attempt clumsy and slow. The slight Captain weaved out of the way of the attack and sliced the creature’s side in the passing.

  Not fast enough.

  He almost managed to leap out of harm’s way, but the monster flung itself after him, the long arms outstretched, and grabbed Danton’s foot. He kicked at it with the other, but could just as well try to kick stone. What followed was a sickening crunch of the creature twisting Captain’s ankle with enough force to mangle tendons.

  It pulled Danton towards itself with a bloody grin.

  Baba could not overpower it.

  He was not strong enough, nor fast enough.

  Even if he tried to wrestle the creature away to buy Danton some time to stab it, he could not achieve much with just one hand. The beast was just too strong and too tough.

  But it was likely not, he realized, heavier.

  He shot forward like a rugby player and tackled the creature, sending them both tumbling out into the clearing.

  “Farrukh!! Shoot! Shoot!!” he yelled, before the creature mule-kicked him in the stomach and robbed him of his breath.

  It whipped back up faster than he could, and loomed over him. In the wan light, it appeared both monstrous and curiously mundane. Enormously thick-bodied and long-armed, with short, muscular legs and an oversized head, it looked almost inhuman, but not quite. It had powerful jaws, spread in a manic, chimplike grin, and a sloping forehead with a powerful brow.

  Most astonishingly, it had the palest skin and reddest hair he had ever seen, quite at odds with how easily it blended with the darkness.

  The creature stomped on his injured hand, sending a lightning of agony through him, and burst out an ululating cackle, not unlike the one characteristic of the hyenas he fought before.

  There was a soft thump, and a foot of a wooden shaft emerged from under the creature's clavicle.

  It swept back with a snarl, reacting to an invisible attacker, only for another arrow to hit it right in the face. The wooded tip tore its cheek open and bounced off it's teeth.

  The third arrow missed the target completely, because the creature burst toward the rock on which Farrukh stood, swallowing the distance with incredible speed, despite its bow-legged gait.

  Baba saw Kyle and his boys move to intercept it, and tried to call them off, but the gut kick robbed him of his breath. With near-impossible effort, he raised to his feet and tried to run after it.

  He saw Farrukh send arrow after arrow at the monster, only for him and Riva to leap off the rock at the last possible moment when the creature climbed it.

  He saw it leap down as well, pass the phalanx of sharpened sticks, and chase after them towards the fire.

  He had heard a defiant scream.

  A woman’s scream.

  Then the blood loss caught up to him, and his vision faded to black.

  Please, find it in your hearts to forgive me!

  I reached a point where my fiction could be properly reviewed, and heroes delivered! Special thanks to , , and for their reviews and to for their tireless support. Without you guys, the whole thing would be entirely pointless.

  That being said, I now need a bit more time to digest the feedback you all gave me, and spend more time editing chapters before posting, so that the quality of my prose could be improved, and the themes and mood of my story a bit crispier.