Through the forestland they went, breaking apart the foliage in their mad run towards safety. Pritchett and Everett were dragging Grimby, who is to be said, at this point resembled a rosy-cheeked corpse at the point, more than a human being. The twisted hounded and slashed his guts open and sank its fangs into a shoulder. Suffice to say, Grimby prospects were not long-lasting or of any pleasurable complexion.

Dragging a dying man while also carrying the squad's supplies proves to be a deft challenge. They went towards the stream where they met the Sergeant. He met them, covered in dirt and sweat, armed and a worried look on his face. He threw a look at the state of them and then looked behind at the flickering light of the flames that were engulfing the trees.

Prichett said, "Later." when the sergeant stared at him, the question obvious on the man's face. "Let's just get safe." And so they went, splashing through the small waters of the stream to leave no footprints and then risking it and taking to the banks when the water got too deep.

Ben spied the half-buried dead man sticking out of a hole in the ground. It looked like the Sergeant did not finish his job.

They were quite a distance from the clearing when the sound of hooves bounced around the trees. Aetna, riding the dead mercenary's horse, Tillby at her back, rode towards them. She pulled on the reins as soon as the horse was across the stream. She and Tillby looked about how Ben felt, tired and yet filled with adrenaline. Aetna seemed happier than Tillby, who held on to his rifle like a child on a toy. She nodded towards Grimby. "I guess you guys ran into the hounds as well?"

"Hounds? Just the one hound for us. Don't tell me there's more than one of those big fuckers out there." said Pritchett.

"Sorry to disappoint, but there are," responded Aetna. "They must've heard the horse because a pack of them found us. Chased us off and been dragging at our heels the whole time. Tillby shot a few of them, but there's a lot more on the way."

"How long do we have?" Ben asked, a grave look on his face while looking back towards the clearing they just evacuated.

"Five, maybe 10 minutes," said Aetna. "I don' think we can all fit on the horse, so it's either stand and fight or try and make for the beach redoubt."

The sergeant was kneeling over Grimby, rolling bandages around the groaning man's midsection. He looked up at Aetna, "There's no chance we'll make it on foot. As for fighting, we fought that big bastard back in the clearing and it nearly killed us. A pack of them is just certain death."

Tillby climbed down from the horse and set upon trying to raise Grimby up on the animal. Ben stopped him, however, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Get off the horse," he told Aetna.

"What now?" asked Pritchett. "You're not getting the horse while Tim's guts are hanging out. Let him bloody get on there and send him off towards the beach."

"He couldn't find the beach if it was right in front of his face, not in his condition." Grimby's eyes were glazed over, as he was hunched over groaning in pain and holding his hands pressed on his bloody abdomen. "But that's not the problem. We left the mercenary back there, tied up to a tree," said Ben.

"Well, that's curtains for him, because we're not going back there," said Pritchett.

"We're not. I am," responded Ben. "I nearly drowned that poor bastard, dragged him up, and left him tied up to a tree in a burning forest with freakish dogs going around hunting for people."

"We are those people," said Pritchett. "Let him get eaten." But the Sergeant had a different idea. He clearly did not approve of abandoning the captive.

"No scouts. No prisoners. No information. A wounded soldier, a horse, and a pack of devil hounds. I'm sure the Admiral will love that. And breaking whatever rules of engagement there are, you're responsible for your prisoners." said Ben, looking straight at Sergeant Davies, gauging his reaction.

"Those only apply to war, boy. This is just fools mucking around in the woods," said Pritchett.

"I killed somebody," said Ben. "And they tried to kill me right on back. What do you categorize that as?"

"Blast it." growled the Sergeant. "Aetna give him the horse."

Aetna who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the proceedings, looking far off into the woods and caressing her many pistols, now turned back onto her squadmates.

"Sure, why not," she said, pulling a pistol from her belt and shoving it into Ben's arms. "You press this down to arm the pistol, you point, you press the little trigger. Just keep on remembering that. And try not to die. Getting quite attached to this horse."

"We're going to set up here. Create a line, blast anything that comes out of the woods into little pieces, dog or no." said the Sergeant.

"If it's as effective as our shots were, then we're gonna be the little pieces," said Pritchett.

Aetna shook her head, "Tillby took down a few of them. They're weird-looking and bigger than regular dogs, about wolf size, but nothing that crazy. Isn't that right, Till?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Tillby, busy with his rifle.

Ben climbed on the horse, patting the animal on the side to calm him down. He secured his legs in the stirrups and looked one last time at the Sergeant, who looked so mad about the whole thing that he could nearly throw lighting out of his eyes.

"You go get that bastard, give him a good smack, put him on the horse, and get right back here," said Davies.

Pritchett grunted in agreement from somewhere behind him. "You best not runoff, that fire trick would be a great help. Maybe we should send Aetna with him."

Aetna made a disapproving face, "Fire trick? Anyway, we want him back fast, not get bogged down with weight on the horse. And the more we talk the less time we have."

"Tillby, give him back his sword." said the Sergeant.

"Don't lose that one like you did mine," said Pritchett.

Aetna rolled her eyes." Enough talk. It feels like forever you've been yapping about it. Just get it done." She stepped forward and slapped the horse on its side, the animal startling and going off in a gallop.