The sparse colossi of the Howling Plains gave way to their younger cousins, and the two Possessors approached the kingdom of men. There was no cliff to climb or descend, the trees simply began, healthy versions of those Redmun had seen in Dark's Forest. Just as Dark's Forest became no safer when light touched its misshapen trunks, these woods held no comfort for the two Possessors, save the comfort always found in the familiar. The ground was covered by the new, still recovering grass, sprouting from the wealth of water of an ended winter, unlike the harsh grass of the Howling Plains, which grew knee-high and never changed.

The first signs of spring were growing in those thick trees like the first few marks on a painter's canvas, breathing life into their vision, a refreshing sight after so long on the Plains. The silence between them stretched to cover the entire wood, echoing back to Redmun, almost mocking. That wood still held darkness, of a type they specialized in, and though their boots were heavy and careless, both kept their senses wary for signs of danger. Signs that, as always, were everywhere.

The cries of a child buzzed through the air. They stopped, to gaze disinterested in its direction. It wasn't that the trap was too obvious – they were already inside the trap, and all that remained was the triggering.

Jessa led the way, without much limp at all. Redmun followed, his whole body wrung and raw. An exposed nerve, still stinging from the wound that opened it.

The path they walked was a well-worn road. There were no markers, no stones beneath their feet, not even an old, broken sign, thrown to the side of the road after decades of use. There was nothing but a gap in the trees for them to follow.

Jessa stepped off the path. Her feet plowed through the collections of weeds and tufts of grass without consideration. Redmun followed.

A babies' cries called out to the world, demanding feeding, or changing, or anything or everything a baby could want. Not a lie to the ears, or some trick of an Evil. A true baby, crying for care.

Jessa drew an axe, and Redmun stopped using his spear like a walking staff. He kept his eye forward, not wanting to rush the beasts no doubt hopping through the air and leaves above their heads.

They approached a clearing, almost idyllic. It was not expansive, barely more than three-trees worth of clear sky, and in the centre of it, a basket lay isolated. The crying rang out pure, no longer distorted by the trees. It was innocence, the turmoil of a blameless babe.

The baby quietened at their sight. It looked up at them, its newly made, sky blue eyes calming as soon as they came into view. It even smiled, and reached for them, its tears forgotten for now. A human babe, stolen from its home to be used as bait. Jessa paused over it, and Redmun imagined her thoughts, perhaps giving it one final look at something friendly, or maybe whispering a prayer for the thing. The moment passed, she stepped towards the basket, and planted her axe into its skull.

Then the sounds came. The sounds they had expected.

Thuds. They turned, and saw the eyes of their assailants. That was the bulk of their mass, the eyes that were only vaguely related to a human's. All of an off white, the only discernable pupil was a series of dark, yellowish cracks, converging at the centre of its vision. The eye rested in a hemisphere of hard, wrinkled, leathery skin. Beneath it all was a mouth, discernable from their angle only by the vicious teeth, drooling saliva at the expected meal. Finally, they saw the things that broke the fall from its canopy home; two, long, tentacle like tongues sprouting from its mouth. They were a bright pink, tipped with toxin-dripping barbs, ready to capture prey and retract it into the waiting maw.

The first Eye of the Pilaven stood on its stalks, its unblinking eye fixed on them. More thuds, and the flood that was a single Pilaven descended from the trees. One mind of many bodies, many eyes, all looking at them.

Redmun closed the last few steps between himself and Jessa. They were utterly surrounded, the entire clearing surrounded by three or four rows of the things. At least they wouldn't have to look up.

He grabbed the freshly stilled baby from its cradle, and hurled it towards the crowd of Evils. He didn't bother to feel sick with himself. One, and only one, jumped. Its dark, ichor covered mouth turned to catch, its tongues retracted, and the thing curled into a ball, closing its mouth on the meal. The eye closed, and it became nothing more than a half-meter-wide rock.

The two Possessors ran forward before the things could charge. With only a few meters between them, they approached the Pilaven. The things were silent, and so were they.

As soon as the hive-minded things began stirring from their position, the two Possessors began to spin. Jessa's banshee would be no use here, and the Light-Evil could rot. They needed speed. A single cut was death.

Redmun with his spear, and Jessamine with her axes, they whirled around and around, barely seeing or hearing anything, reacting only to the slightest blur in their already blurry world. Their feet made steady steps, dodging and twisting and turning, backs together. With one end, Redmun's spear bashed at the thing's tongues and bodies while the other sliced and lacerated. Jessa's axes did nothing but maim.

As the rest of the Pilaven's separate flesh circled them, they retreated back into the clearing, swatting and slicing their way through. Some of the thing's flesh leapt into the air, trying to find an avenue of attack. Some tried to slide their tongues underneath the Possessors' spinning guard, and trip them. Even with dozens of enormous, alien eyes, however, the thing had trouble following the Possessors movements. The thing might have many Eyes, but it was still two against one. Pilaven were dumb creatures at base, and grew more so with each Eye lost. They relied on fear and surprise to win their battles more often than not as they hunted larger beasts. The thing wasn't used to resistance.

Whenever an aerial attack might land, that Eye received a lethal strike to the pupil, not even its tongue reaching their attackers. Whenever the tongues might grasp their legs and set them off balance, their agile, dancing feet would be gone.

The two circled each other. They would separate, and then close the gap, eviscerating any of the Pilaven's eyes that got in the way. Their minds were nothing but the instinct of where to strike next, where to maneuver their dance of twirling haft and blade. Movement was just as important as defense, to confuse the thing.

At the end of that dizzying stretch of time, marked only by blurry images, what remained of the Pilaven fled into the trees, their tongues launching them as far and as fast as possible. Those wounded tried to follow, but as the bulk got further away their movements became less and less, until they fell limp. Alive, but lifeless.

As soon as the battle let up, the Possessors hurled their bodies towards the closest path of grass that would be safe, and collapsed. They lay on the grass, unmoving save for gagging. The food they'd eaten had been vomited up not long after the fight had started, survival winning over dizziness while they fought.

Redmun grasped at his head, wishing the spinning would stop. He had no idea where he was in the grove, no idea how many they'd killed, no idea how long they'd fought. Jessa might be right beside him, or she may be dead. He had no idea of anything, and no care to give besides. The sky was a blur, and his eyes refused to stay still in his skull.

For every iota of dizziness that let up, a piercing migraine began to run its way through Redmun's mind, like a spike pounding into his skull. By the time he sat up, he was pushing through a headache more painful than he'd thought possible. He saw Jessa, and crawled his way towards her. Together they rose.

Neither had been touched. If they had, they'd already be seizing. The two picked their way through the battle toward the cot.

In it was the delicate, embroidered red blanket the things had found the babe wrapped in, soaked with blood. There would be a farm nearby – idiots living outside the walls with no idea what that means until it's too late – and the babe's parents would want proof of their child's fate.

Redmun slipped it into his jacket, and looked to Jessa. Her dark skin had paled, her eyelids dropping, the eyes beneath unfocused and fatigued. “Let's find them, so we can keep moving,” she said, although the words were so slurred he struggled to understand them.

Redmun nodded, a slow and dumb motion. Leaning together, they stumbled forward.