1

They remained at the orchard for another hour before Damon told the team it was time to return to the village. Harper refused, so he and Angie stayed while the rest of the team returned. They shuffled back to the village, shaken up and mourning the loss of Miguel. The returning group discussed Brett, wondering if he had fallen victim to the Dryads as well, but they didn’t believe it. The five members were certain he’d either returned to the landing zone, or had gone rogue.

The Jennings family remained on the road the whole time, waiting for the team to come back. When Zack told them what had taken place, they moaned quietly. Aside from Harper, Emma was most distressed by Miguel’s death. She felt guilty about being away from the village when the mage telepathed the team. Jordan asked Ethan if he could spend the rest of the night with her. Ethan grunted his agreement. Emma asked the same of Janna and received the same perfunctory response. The two lovers could sense the resentment coming from the team members.

When they reached the cabins, Zack and Ethan suggested to Janna that she stay with them. She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I don’t want to be alone tonight with Brett out there,” she said, gazing at the dark shapes of the pine trees.

They dispersed into their new cabin arrangements; Janna with the two orcs and Emma with Jordan. Sunrise was still hours away, and they peered at the three members who remained near the orchard. The small fires around them flickered like stars in a distant universe.

Janna and the orcs eventually fell asleep, but Emma and Jordan struggled with their conscience and the mistakes they’d made for the rest of the night.

2

Damon and Angie were concerned about Harper. She had nearly died that day herself. The dry rasp had returned to her voice, and she was coughing again. Still, she refused to leave the site. She rummaged through the flowers and leaves that had concealed the two Dryads. They discovered that the monsters had dug holes into the earth to hide in.

Harper trudged on her hands and knees into one before crawling back out. She found Miguel’s jack of plates armor and pulled the clothing to her chest. She started wailing again, but her cries were broken up by her persistent cough, punctuating her misery.

“What should we do?” Damon whispered to Angie as they saw Harper rolling on the ground, her face etched in agony.

They sat on the grass.

“Let her be.”

And so they watched her grieve for another hour, at which point she spoke to them.

“Muh… muh… my sister,” she sobbed. “Sh… she… she tried to warn muh… me… buh… but I couldn’t understand… shuh… she was in my dreams…”

Angie glanced at Damon with a pained expression on her face.

“I… I… I should... have nuh… known…” Harper started wailing louder, almost shrieking.

Damon got up and walked to her. Sitting beside her, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Her body quaked and trembled from the anguish that engulfed her. He stayed with her as the small fires around them sputtered out of existence. Harper clutched at him, clamping onto his thigh. Damon could feel her hot tears against the skin on his leg. He looked over at Angie for reassurance, but she was staring up at the sky. The first traces of light had appeared, painting blue and purple strands across the heavens.

3

Angie finally convinced Harper to return to the village. They walked in stunned silence, numbed by the emotional devastation of the night. Above them, the sky was bursting with pink and orange hues as the new day rose to life.

Damon told them they would take the day off. It was an obvious decision. In their state, the team members weren’t ready to enter the tower.

They asked Harper to sleep in their cabin. She agreed disinterestedly. Damon collected bedding from the empty cabins and carried it to their cabin. While Harper and Angie slept in the beds, he settled onto the floor with the bedding he had gathered. He slept facing Harper, who lay on her bed, staring at the wall. In the dim light, he glanced at her occasionally, but her expression didn’t change. As he descended into sleep, Damon wished she would do the same.

4

Brett watched them all night from his perch at the top of the hill. He enjoyed the pandemonium that took place near the orchard. It appeared a team member may have died. He hoped it was Emma, but he knew that wasn’t possible.

She was too busy fucking.

Nevertheless, he loved the show. He observed them staggering back to the village, disheartened. Those goddamn cripples lingered on the village outskirts, watching the drama unfold. But they didn’t appreciate it like he did. Brett considered going down to kill them. It would have been easy enough. He could have used their own sword against them. But he decided against it. He stayed on the hill instead, enjoying his excellent vantage point, not wanting to miss a minute of the team’s misery.

5

The rest of the night was a nightmare for Brett. He hunkered under the canopy of a massive pine tree, intending to spend the night there. He was dozing off after the last team members returned to the village.

Then the wolves came.

The huge canine beasts took advantage of his slumber and circled the tree. Their low, throaty growls awakened him, an eerie sound that reverberated throughout the hilltop. Brett saw their red eyes as his Creature Description details appeared in his vision.

TIMBER WOLF (Level 3)

HP: 49

MP: 15

STRENGTH: 12

CONSTITUTION: 4

DEXTERITY: 9

INTELLIGENCE: 1

WISDOM: 4

XP: 33

DESCRIPTION: Vicious canine with large teeth and powerful jaws.

He identified eight pairs of eyes shining through the darkness. The predators had waited for him to wake up before attacking him. Brett wasn’t sure why. Maybe they wanted to taste his fear.

A large wolf jumped through the pine needles and landed on him, going for his throat.

He caught the beast’s neck, holding its muzzle away from his jugular at the last second. As its fangs ripped into his ankle, he screamed in agony. Far below, some of the villagers woke from their slumber but quickly fell back to sleep.

The large wolf scraped its claws against his leather armor, still driving for his throat.

Brett cried out desperately for a push dagger and was shocked when, despite his rapid movements, the weapon materialized in his hand. He plunged it into the animal’s neck. The wolf yowled in pain, and the pressure against his arms subsided. Warm blood splashed onto his face as the wolf fell to his side.

He sat up and saw another wolf ready to attack. Brett called for his short sword, but as the sword materialized in his hand, the wolf jumped him and he lost his grip on the weapon. He heard the sword clang against the tree trunk as he pushed the second wolf from his throat.

Vaguely, he felt heavy paws pin his bleeding ankle, then teeth gnawing against his bone. His consciousness wavered as a surge of pain steamrolled through his body and his hold on the second wolf lessened. The beast plunged downward and sank its fangs into his collarbone.

Brett screamed and pushed the wolf away from his body. He held the beast up with his left hand as he felt through the pine needles with his right, searching for his sword. He realized this was his last chance. In his weakened state, he knew the wolf would have his throat with its next thrust. His fingers chanced upon the blade. He traced his hand to the weapon’s handle, then drove the sword through the wolf’s body, feeling the metal blade ricochet against the animal’s ribcage.

The beast’s jaws kept snapping for a few seconds before it collapsed onto the first wolf, which was now dead.

A third wolf rushed in.

Brett roared at it, thrusting his sword forward. The wolf snarled at him but backed off. The other wolves followed its lead, except for one. With his mind still dazed, Brett gaped incredulously at the wolf still grinding on his ankle.

He screamed and swung the sword at the creature’s neck, barely missing his own leg. The blow decapitated the wolf and its body crashed to the ground. Blood gushed against his leg. The wolf’s severed head dislodged from his ankle and rolled toward him, bouncing on the pine needles. He shoved it away with a cry of disgust.

Brett checked his HP and was shocked to see it at 19 out of 51. He cast Intermediate Heal and equipped another push dagger. The weapon formed in his free right hand. He growled aggressively at the wolves, hoping to ward them off. It worked. The wolf pack retreated a few more steps as he realized how stupid he had been to sleep alone on the ground.

“I have to get up one of the trees,” he muttered as he crept out from under the tree with his sword held in front of him. His ravaged ankle scraped against a thick branch, causing him acute pain, but he didn’t react. He refused to show any hint of weakness. He noticed three Epiphany clouds hovering in his vicinity. As he watched the wolves carefully, he moved his hand toward a cloud and received a prompt.

Congratulations, Brett! You have found an Epiphany that contains the spell: Wolf Rage. This hot-headed spell will enable you to grow fangs and claws. It will also temporarily increase your strength stat by 20%! Ranked progressive and available to all classes, so tell all your friends. It comes at a cheap, cheap, cheap price of .5 MP per second and has a cooldown rate of 5 seconds. Try out this maddening spell, it’s all the rage!

Brett grinned. “Wolf rage,” he uttered. His lower lip broke open and blood dribbled down his chin as his incisors lengthened. Sharp pain burst from his fingertips as claws grew below his human nails.

Brett suddenly lost his grip and dropped his weapons. He gasped and quickly reached down for them, but his claws clattered uselessly against the handles. He braced, expecting the wolves to lunge for him.

They stared at him passively.

The animals were no longer growling at him. Brett was astounded. He took a step toward them to see how they would react. They sat motionless, unaffected by his movement. He took another step. One of the wolves yawned.

Brett cast another healing spell on his body and walked right up to one wolf. The beast peered up at him like a family pet. He settled his hand on the animal’s broad head and petted it, being careful not to scratch the wolf with his newly formed claws.

“You belong to me now, don’t you?” he whispered.

Brett stepped back and turned off the Wolf Rage spell. As his claws and fangs retracted, he waited to see if the animals would attack him then. They didn’t. He grinned in the darkness. He picked up his sword and guided it into the Epiphany cloud. Another message appeared.

Congratulations, Brett! You have upgraded your Short Sword to level 3 wolf-bane! “Time to stamp out the bane of your existence!”

He gawked as the sword changed before him. Sharp fangs grew in a row from the rear edge of the blade. The teeth were two inches long and snapped from the blade individually, followed by a metallic ting! sound. Energy pulsated through his palm as he watched the weapon became more lethal.

When the transformation was done, he tried his luck with the lance and the push daggers, but those weapons did not change. Brett collected 99 experience points, which lifted him from level 5 to 10. Without guidance from the gamers, he decided to drop his 20 attribute points into strength, constitution, dexterity, and endurance.

He approached the wolf pack and squatted beside the largest one. He kissed its head, feeling its wiry fur against his torn lip.

“Thank you, my friends,” he whispered then strode back to the pine tree and skinned, then butchered, the dead wolves. He discarded three squirrels to make room for the meat. He dragged the wolf skeletons away from the hilltop but didn’t bury them.

He no longer felt the urgency to climb a tree. The wolves were here to protect him.

“Just one more thing before I turn in,” he whispered to the wolf pack. He stared at the tree Emma and Jordan had used for their fucking.

Their fuck-tree, he thought.

He had a feeling they’d would be back. He swung his sword viciously against the bark of the tree, shearing a wide strip off. The bark flew out in an explosion of gnarled wood.

Brett stopped, appalled by his behavior. What are you doing! Why are you spoiling your good weapon on this? he reprimanded himself.

As the passive wolves looked on, he equipped his lance. He swung at the tree like a lumberjack. The double axe blades at the top of the weapon shaved the bark off in long strokes.

It took a half-hour for Brett to remove ten feet of bark from the fuck-tree. When he was finished, he backed up to appreciate his work. The raw wood gleamed light blue under the moon.

He cast Wolf Rage next and felt his claws protrude again. No pain in his fingertips this time. “This just keeps getting better,” he muttered as he scraped his claws along the wood, engraving letters. He wanted her to know that he’d seen what they did.

When he finished carving into the exposed wood, he retracted the Wolf Rage spell and equipped a push dagger. He glided the blade across his misshapen fuck-finger and squeezed his blood into the grooves in the tree.

It’s the personal touch that makes all the difference, he mused.