Anwin

“That’s nonsense,” Grace chuckled, nervous. “Be serious, Toma.”

He stared at her, expression blank. “I am.”

Beren wrung his hands. “Toma, I want to go home.” One hand passed over the other, reaching habitually to rub his scar. What met his hand instead was a glossy black gemstone, embedded in his arm, at the perfect center of it. His eyes shot wide. “Toma! I—”

“Quiet, Beren. Not now.” Grace waved him away dismissively, and Rufus stuck out his tongue, smirking.

Beren let his voice trail off, but he idly studied the strange object as he stood there, listening to his friends.

Toma closed his eyes. “I think that by accepting that—”

“Hello, otherworlders,” interrupted a voice from the brush. It was a mere few feet from Beren’s heels.

He leapt away from it, falling onto his hands and knees in a scramble to flee. Syl jumped in front of Toma, and Rufus in front of Grace. Beren finally turned onto his back again when he reached a sturdy oak beyond his friends.

“Who’s there?” shouted Syl. Rufus dropped to a lineman’s crouch, ready to pounce.

“There is no need to be so cautious,” the voice spoke again. It had a childlike lilt, but spoke with a more refined air than even Grace did. The leaves rustled as the speaker moved forth.

“We’ll decide that!” Syl called back.

A fox jumped free from the branches and leaves, landing a short distance away. It thrust its nose and chest into the air. “I am called Loxi. I require your assistance.”

Syl relaxed her posture. Rufus, notably, maintained his crouch. Beren couldn’t help but think he looked exactly like a bear, poised to pounce.

Seeing its rather… unimposing form, though, Beren climbed to his feet, struggling to regain his composure.

“What? Why should we?” Syl asked.

“Well,” it said, averting its eyes ponderously. “What a strange question. An adorable creature such as myself needs help, and you would—”

“Why is no one questioning that a fox is talking?” Grace asked, her voice shrill.

It cleared its throat. “Excuse me, I was speaking.”

Grace scoffed. “Why should I care? You’re some… weird hallucination, anyway. None of this is real.” She played with the hem of her shirt with both hands.

Its mouth hung open in utter shock. But after a while of staring blankly at Grace, unsure what to say, it shook its head and simply moved on.

“The rest of you, come—we need to move. Quickly!” It jumped onward, bounding past them and into the forest.

None of them moved.

“Hurry!” it called back.

Still, no one moved.

“Ugh, have it your way, then,” it said, hopping back over to them. It settled at Beren’s feet, turning around. “We’ll fight them here,” it mumbled.

Beren’s brow furrowed deeply at the last bit.

Toma turned to the small creature, eyes narrow. “Uh, what? I’m not fighting.” His words echoed Beren’s thoughts.

“Not without mana, you’re not,” Loxi agreed. As it turned its eyes to Beren, its next words lingered on its lips for a moment. It cocked its head, lowering its own “brow” at whatever it saw before turning away from him. “All of you, drink the bottled liquid at your hips!”

Naturally, none of them obliged. None of us even have—

Beren’s thought was cut off by the realization that each of their outfits had changed slightly. His own was no exception, though he didn’t really have the wherewithal to observe particular changes at the moment. The most obvious thing was that each of his friends had a bottle of liquid on the belt added to their now-changed getups.

He fumbled at his own belt, looking for his bottle. He found none there.

“Agh, do you all want to die?”

But before there could be any discussion, Beren felt something odd—and it seemed the rest of them did, too. The ground beneath their feet began to rumble. It trembled in an irregular, recurring rhythm: the pounding of heavy feet in stride, slamming the ground.

“What the hell is that?” Toma muttered. He straightened up, barely tall enough to see into a gap in the bushes and branches.

His eyes shot wide.

“Everyone, run! Go!”

Though Loxi had suggested the same, its words held no weight, especially compared to Toma’s—and the trembling earth beneath them lent more credence to his words, at least in Beren’s mind.

Each of them turned and sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them away from the direction Toma had looked. They tripped and stumbled over the gnarled roots among the undergrowth, but adrenaline kept them trucking through branch after branch. No one knew where they were headed, but each of them understood just one thing: they needed to flee.

With each step, the shockwaves of their pursuers drawing closer sent another surge of adrenaline into Beren’s veins. He ran as fast as he ever had before; faster than he thought he possibly could.

About a minute into their mad scramble, Toma shouted, “Look!”

Ahead of them, the shadowy wood fell away, giving way to a circular clearing of ankle-high grass.

Before they could collectively adjust course, they broke onto the open field. Their pace didn’t give, and each of them rocketed forth across it. Midway across, though, Toma slid to a halt, prompting the rest of them to as well.

Beren hadn’t even noticed in his adrenaline-fueled panic, but Rufus had stopped some ways behind them. He was keeled over, retching and panting, though no sick emerged from him.

“Rufus, come on!” Toma called.

Rufus was hunched over. “Need…” he muttered indistinctly.

“What? Just come on!” Toma urged, taking a step toward him.

“Need! Water!” he called between breathless gasps.

“The bottle at your hip!” Loxi shouted loudly. “Drink it! Now!”

Rufus looked at it from his keeled over posture, blinking. Without a second thought, he snatched it from its place, sliding easily from the loop it was attached to.

In one big gulp, he downed it.

“Now come on, idiot!” yelled Toma. “Now!”

He picked up his foot to amble toward them again as he regained his composure.

Too late.

The treeline exploded in a shower of wooden shards that hailed down over Rufus. The sheer amount of dust and debris shrouded him completely from them.

Two monstrous hounds stampeded into the clearing: one larger and one smaller. Their teeth were foot-long yellow spikes. The shoulders of the larger were the height of grown humans, and their bodies were barrels of the purest muscle.

But the most terrifying aspect of them, by Beren’s estimation—and what set his knees shaking beneath him as he studied them—were the hundreds of meter-long spines bristling high on each of their backs.

And beneath them, thrumming trails of blue energy streaked across their abdomens.

They were… familiar to Beren. Dread pooled in his gut all anew as he realized where from.

“Aksa…?” he muttered. “What?”

Toma glanced over at him, and then back at the creatures. His eyes shot wide.

As the dust settled, the hounds came bounding forth across the bed of shrapnel that lay before them. Their pace was slower now, though, as though they detected the intent not to flee.

Over the uncertain terrain and tall grass, neither Beren nor his companions could see Rufus.

“Hey!” Toma called, voice cracking. “Rufus!”

Both spined hounds bared its teeth, prowling toward them.

“Rufus!” Syl called, and Beren could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Where are you?”

Before long, all of them were calling out. But there was no response from the pile of broken branches where Rufus had just stood.

They were growing closer by the second, still with their heads low to the ground, ready to attack. They must have been near striking distance, considering their size and agility. The spines on their backs bristled ever higher as they drew near.

“We should flee if none of you are going to fight,” Loxi said.

“Without Rufus?” Toma asked. “And, you have eyes, don’t you? Look at those things…” he trailed off.

His meaning was obvious to Beren, anyway: these dogs could run them down with no problem, especially as they crossed open land like this. Their other option—to fight—served them no better.

It was hopeless.

One of them yelped—the smaller—breaking from its companion as it was dragged a distance backward. Its claws dug into the dirt with little effect beyond tearing up tufts of grass. Its rear legs were yanked back, setting it stumbling backward on its front ones in awkward hops.

A glowing orange fist burst from the pile of tree parts beneath the monster. The blow connected with its chest, sending a shockwave through it and radiating into the air around, followed by a thunderous crack Beren could only assume was its ribcage. It slobbered and retched, keeling over to its side, fresh blood dripping from its maw.

“Yes…” muttered Loxi.

Rufus walked out from behind its now cowering form. His posture was straighter and his steps were lighter than Beren had ever seen otherwise. The skin of his clenched fists radiated that same amber glow that struck the beast, giving almost the appearance that they were wreathed in flame.

And though his face bore some minor scratches on it, he was largely unscathed.

He jumped side to side, from foot to foot, shaking out his arms. With each flick of his forearm, more and more amber spilled forth, enveloping the length of his arms in a strong, vibrant essence.

The remaining larger beast turned to face him, hearing the lame whimpers of its fallen packmate, and the cracks of the bones in its chest from moments before.

Rufus simply continued firing himself up, glaring at his foes with a smirk on his lips at his newfound power, unfazed.

Beren felt it washing over him: with each passing hop to and fro, he felt the energy radiating from Rufus’s very being compounding, even being far off as he was.

Of the very same kind as the flower, though slightly damper, Beren realized.

Rufus landed softly on both feet, dropping to a low crouch, his hands and arms wreathed in an ethereal orange shine. “Come on, ya' mutt,” he growled. “Let’s wrestle.”