Our footsteps are hurried but slower than before. The snow crunches beneath our feet, reducing our speed ever so slightly.

Finally being able to enjoy good news, the laughs have finally left my mind and body. I feel much looser than I did before. They were only a part of the forest behind us, so I can pour all my focus into scooping up the designated plants.

I speed over to the first flower, pick it, and shove it into my pocket. Anya does the same.

The yetis haven’t noticed us yet.

Anya picks up another flower. I do the same.

They still haven’t moved. Things are going well. It needs to stay like this. We’re making amazing pace.

Six flowers.

Eight.

Anya picks up the ninth. I reach for the final flower.

An arrow. An arrow?

It whizzes past my head and embeds itself in front of the flower I’m about to pick.

The archer narrowly missed their mark, barely skimming past my ear. From the way its shaft points, it came from the forest behind us. We were either followed, or stalked. In either case, we’re in a much worse situation than we were before. Judging from how fast we were moving, and how they must’ve shot from a reasonably far distance, they were at least decent in their art. If they were really good, however, I would be dead right now. That thought is reassuring.

I pick the last flower and stuff it into my pocket, and check on Anya’s status.

She was not as lucky as I was. An arrow sprouts crimson petals from the back of her left shoulder and she shouts in pain.

The wind on her shoes dissipates, and she skips across the snow, painting the white canvas she skims. The yetis turn around to face us, alerted by the noise. The smell of blood invades their nostrils, and their mouths fill with saliva.

In an instant, at least a dozen of them are bounding toward us on all fours, completely ravenous. It’s a sight I would’ve never liked to see in a thousand lifetimes. Their steps shake the earth beneath the snow and fill the air with disorienting quakes.

I fill my whole body with power, calling upon Eunha for strength. She obliges me. I fling myself towards Anya, scooping her up from the snow.

Her face is pale and her breathing is ragged, but she’s getting better by the second. The wound is nasty, but she’s stopped the bleeding by stuffing the hole with snow. She’s already ripped the arrow from her shoulder and has started casting a healing spell.

I don’t care what her Pops thinks. This girl was born to be an adventurer, there was not a doubt in my mind. As of right now, that fact benefits me greatly. Can’t let her die just yet.

I streak towards the edge of the forest, leaving kicked up snow in the air behind me, icy wind nipping at my ears.

I’m out-speeding the yetis, but only by a bit. They have much longer limbs than me, with much more natural strength at their disposal to carry them along their home turf. Arrows also hail from the trees, and evading them takes all my concentration.

“LET ME DOWN!”, she screams loud enough for me to hear through my earplugs. I notice her feet already have wind surrounding them again, and her shoulder wound was sealed with a heavy scar. It was shoddy patchwork, but I’m sure it would work for now. I let her down, and she hits the ground running.

Except she’s not running. She’s skating across the snow like it was ice, facing the trees.

She chants something, mana fills the air, and she shoots her hands towards the sky at an angle. A giant wall of earth blocks the area of the forest that the arrows were being sent from. A very temporary solution, but it gives us a brief respite. I try to reason with the yetis since there is no longer blaring laughter to cover up my words.

(STOP, BRETHREN! I AM ONE OF YOU!), I yell, still running.

They… don’t care at all. They’re moving just as fast as they were before, even despite my usage of the mother tongue. I guess they’re not the kind of monsters to be reasoned with, not that I really expected them to be.

Well, I’m not some sort of monster saint. If they want to fight, I’ll certainly reciprocate, right after I find a solution to the cowards in the wood.

The earthen wall supplies us cover for about ten seconds before the archers reposition.

The hail of arrows starts again. Anya’s now dodging them just as well as I am since she has ample time to see them before they reach her. As we get closer to the pines, the chances of the arrows hitting their mark increase.

Knowing this, I rush ahead of Anya in an attempt to get to the archers first. As I do this, Anya yells at the top of her lungs.

“SUN, THEY’RE NOT ELVES! ELVES DON’T MISS!”

I barely hear her words through my earplugs, but they register in my head.

This was so much better than me having to kill monsters. A grin spreads across my face, now having been given a very good reason to defend myself. I’m sure Anya won’t mind if I’m saving our lives.

Close to the edge of the forest, I leap from the snow towards the trees, guessing where one of the archers is from the trajectory of their shots. Their arrows sail past me, so they were likely not prepared for a vertical attack, nor skilled in vertical aim.

While I go ahead, Anya raises another wall, but this time behind us to deter the yetis. It does its job well, giving us a much greater distance to work with.

I crash land in the forest, rolling into my spearman’s stance. The laughs return as expected.

There’s a very familiar human standing near me, holding a longbow.

It’s the man who insulted Ma. Ah, that makes sense.

He has terror written all over his face, as he should. He shoots an arrow at me, and I deflect it.

I lunge toward him and run my spear through his stomach quicker than he can blink. His eyes bug out.

I lift him with my spear, and his guts begin to spill from his severed belly. He grips the shaft of my spear, coughing up blood. He kicks at the air trying to free himself. The longbow drops from his grasp into the thin snow beneath him.

I remove the spear, letting him fall back down to the ground. He lays in a pool of his own fluids.

Looks like we won't have to fight the yetis after all. He'll make for a great distraction.