Insects chirping. Owls hooting. Trees rustling. Evening forest sounds echoed in Owen’s eardrums as though distant. Each ragged breath sent a burning pain through the wounds on his chest. Why, exactly, did the wounds cause so much damage despite being relatively shallow? He could only imagine that there was some sort of extra effect caused by the witherbear’s claws he hadn’t known about.

Onward he stumbled through the steadily darkening forest, each step laden with exhaustion. Dizziness came and went like a raging ocean tide. His vision swam to the point that he needed to lean against a tree in order to catch his breath and reorient himself.

After a few minutes of rest, he pushed himself away from the tree and trudged forward. He knew he had already walked for a good two hours since leaving the cave. Daylight slipped away with each passing second. Raylea was definitely close. It needed to be. The darkness of the forest was fraught with danger, especially in his current state.

While stumbling along, he suddenly felt a chill creep down the back of his neck. His hair stood on end. His legs stopped moving. A sharp sensation pierced his spine like an ice-cold blade.

Is this… sleep paralysis? He wondered. He strained his eyes in the darkness and turned his head in every direction. There was nothing near him. No. I can still move a little. What is going on? Is it from the wounds?

Almost in answer to his thoughts, a shadow flickered between the trees several meters straight ahead, immediately drawing his gaze. However, he saw nothing.

Must’ve been my imagination… probably.

He tried to move again, but his muscles refused to respond. Imaginary warning bells chimed in the back of his head, but he couldn’t figure out why. That is, he couldn’t until something dark flickered again in the distance. Something was there, but it flickered away quicker than the blink of an eye. At this point, his entire body chilled to the bone despite the warmth of day not yet dissipating. Fight or flight began to churn within him, yet his legs ignored the call to flee. Heartbeats pulsed so heavily in his chest that he could feel it in his ears.

An excruciatingly long minute passed without incident as sweat collected even more densely on his skin. He continuously envisioned dark, twisted blades digging into his spine. They felt frighteningly real, yet were not.

Suddenly, a shadow lurched into view from behind a tree a few meters in front of him. Owen’s eyes landed on it, unblinking. His heart skipped a beat before pounding behind his ribcage again. Whatever stood before him was taller by several feet. It was formless yet looked humanoid at the same time. It was pitch black; darker than the night sky. The outline of its formless body quivered and twitched like some sort of physical manifestation of a computer glitch. Even worse, it was as silent as a statue.

What… the hell? Was all Owen could think. He was both baffled and terrified by the shadowy being. He could barely believe his eyes.

Suddenly, the vague outline of the shadow’s head twitched into a ninety-degree angle. The movement was so quick, Owen barely noticed it. But, he did, and he shivered in response. It was horrifying. Shouldn’t there have at least been a crack? It basically broke its own neck without making a sound.

Before he could think too much about it, the shadow twisted and lurched. Then, it vanished. A shiver shot down his spine like an electric current again. Cold air brushed against the back of his neck. Danger.

That was the straw which broke the camel’s back. His instincts took over despite his fear. His own body bowed forward and his heel swung upward behind him where a human’s chin would have been. Harsh breaths finally escaped his lips, making him realize he had been holding his breath. Cracks spread across the scabs on his chest. Cool droplets of blood and pus leaked out. However, he ignored all that. Instead, he stared at his foot which was still extended toward the sky. It never made contact with anything. Nothing was there.

Still in fight or flight, he pulled his foot down and shuffled backward on his toes all in one fluid motion. Out of habit, he raised his fists, only remembering the wakizashi once it was right in front of his face. He then lowered it to his waist and grabbed the handle. His eyes danced over the surroundings at lightning speed, yet he saw nothing no matter where he turned.

For a good minute, he remained on edge, ignoring the liquids leaking from his chest. Only survival was on his mind. However, nothing appeared. The chill dissipated, yet his hair still stood on end. Danger was there. He could feel it in his bones. Another minute passed. Then another. Still, nothing happened. The shadow never appeared.

What the hell was that? He asked himself while taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. No answer reached his ears, not that he expected one. Whatever he saw was still lurking in the darkness. There hadn’t been anything like that in the Pathwalkers beta. Not even close. That was something straight out of a horror movie.

With a lingering sense of dread in the back of his mind, Owen hesitantly resumed his journey toward Raylea. For several minutes, adrenaline kept him on edge to the point that he couldn’t take a single step without double-checking his surroundings. Even his wounds and former weariness didn’t phase him. Alas, such a state could not last forever. The fires of his fight or flight reflexes gradually burned out and fatigue returned to replace it.

Pulling the mirage blanket taught around his shoulders, he refocused on reaching Raylea as quickly as possible. After a while, the trees thinned and he finally saw the warm light of a flame a short ways off to his right. Changing course, he beelined toward it.

A minute later, he exited the forest and saw fenced off homes. These were the outskirts of the town where the poor people lived, but that was all he knew from a throwaway line in streams he used to watch. Hoping the people might show some kindness, he stumbled towards the closest building which also happened to be the biggest. It was constructed with a cobble foundation and wood for the main build. It looked like an old church combined with a log cabin.

Multiple lamps, likely of the oil-burning variety, lit the area with a warm inviting glow. However, one lantern attracted his attention since it rocked back and forth. A man wearing a leather tunic carried it while walking perpendicular with Owen’s path within the fenced-off area of the large building. There was a shed there which he appeared to need something from. The man had a thin beard, indicating some level of youthfulness, but it was hard to tell exactly how old he was with only the light from his lantern. His build was lean, but it was that of a dutiful laborer.

Although a brief amount of hesitation flickered at the back of Owen’s mind, he pursed his lips and approached the fence. He could only hope the person wouldn’t pass him off as some sort of thief or murder hobo. Due to his weariness, he leaned on the fence for support as soon as he reached it.

“Hello,” Owen called out, startling the man into almost dropping the lantern. “Could I possibly ask for some assistance?”

The man shook himself back to reality and stared at Owen for a moment. His brows furrowed and he tilted his head. Luckily, he didn’t seem suspicious, just confused.

Ah, I should remove my ‘hood’, Owen thought. He recalled that the witherbear didn’t really recognize what he was when the mirage blanket completely covered him. Perhaps it affected humans to an extent as well. As soon as he removed the blanket from his head, the man’s eyes lit up in surprise.

With a startling lack of caution, the man walked over while saying, “My goodness, you look pale as a moonhorse, sir. Are you alright?”

“A bit hurt. Could I ask to borrow some medi-”

Before Owen could finish, his vision swirled to the point of nausea, his knees buckled, and he collapsed, barely keeping himself in a crouching position by using the fence as support. From the corner of his eye, he could see the man jogging over, but Owen was definitely more surprised than the man seemed to be. Until a moment ago, he still had a modicum of vigor. He couldn’t comprehend the rapid shift. He barely heard the words of the man hopping over the fence.

“Hold on! I’ll bring you inside!”

Next thing Owen knew, he felt a surprisingly muscular arm sliding under his armpit to support him. Then, the guy lifted him almost effortlessly. Due to how the man was supporting him, his chest was now visible. The man noticed it immediately thanks to his lantern.

“Virtus Almighty! Did you get in a tussle with a witherbear?”

Owen nodded weakly while stumbling along with the man’s aid.

“You’re a lucky man to get out with just that. Let’s get some illafern ointment on those cuts before it gets worse.”

Thankfully, the guy shut his mouth after that. Owen’s head was already pounding. Even the man’s calm voice made him wince.

The man silently helped Owen over to a gate at the other side of the building, unbarring it with his foot as though he had done this every day of his life. The next few steps all blurred together as the two approached the porch jutting out the front of the large building. The man then opened the door and helped Owen into a room that could maybe pass for a living room. There were a few wooden chairs and one hobbled-together couch surrounding a cobble fireplace. Each of them sported thin, worn-out padding which looked like it had been sewn together from animal fur.

The man led Owen over to the lone couch in the room and lowered him onto the makeshift fur cushion. Owen was thankful to have the mirage blanket in between his back and the cushion since the parts of his body which did touch the cushion started itching almost instantly.

“One moment, I’m going to get my wife. She’ll be able to patch you up.”

Owen nodded weakly and mumbled, “Thanks.”

While walking toward a wooden door at the other side of the room, the man replied, “Don’t mention it. We deal with this kind of thing all the time because of the kids.”

As soon as he was alone, Owen closed his tired eyes and sighed a shallow breath of relief.

Glad they seem like decent people.

That was the last thing to pass through his mind before he fell into a deep slumber.