Zophia felt a cold, wet sensation on her forehead. She swatted at it, but it came back, so she swatted at it again, and again it came back. She slowly opened her eyes to see what was pestering her. When her vision began to come to there was the shadowy face of a weary Martin looming over her, his single emerald eye stared at her with distress. She looked him over. In his hand, he was holding what appeared to be a wet cloth that he was dabbing on her head. She was laying on the bank of a mighty river, the forest lined the bank towering over them. There was a shout up the river bank and Martin laid over them with his poncho, he was silent, so she did the same. She felt protected by him, he was a shield from the violent world. The calls downstream faded and Martin sat back up, and so the girl did the same.

“Easy…” The man braced her back with his hand and helped her sit up.

“What happened?” She said in confusion clutching her head.

“Why did you look? I asked you not to look…” He wasn't as mad, as he was worried, and it showed. In her eyes, all she could see was the gore from the inn, the twisted limbs, the torn sinew, what he had done with the lute… to their poor faces, the madness. She turned over and heaved as hard as she could, her back swelled upward as she was forced to vomit, but all she could produce was painful retching.

“Easy… easy…” He gently whispered as he held her hair. She sat there on all fours breathing heavily into her spine, but every time she would calm down, horrid images flashed into her mind and she would again retch. When she finally had composed herself she sat down and shook from the strain of dry heaving. Martin draped her with his poncho and pulled out some fresh jerky from his travel sack and handed it to her.

“Eat, you need to eat. It should settle your stomach.” He offered her the piece of meat and she took it with hesitation.

“Where did you get this?” She took a large bite, it was much too salty for her but she chewed it out of hunger.

“When you fell I cleaned you and had to resupply as quickly as possible. I wasn't able to grab much… but I got enough to last us till the City. How are you feeling, any better?” He was concerned and rubbed her back to comfort her.

“Yes. Excuse me, Martin, where is Thomas… I don't see him.” She said as she looked around, gaining her baring.

“I couldn't bring him with, I’m sorry.” His heart grew heavy as he mustered up the courage to tell the little girl he had left her only family behind. “ It's too hard to take care of a horse, and we don't have the supplies. Besides, I make camp in the woods and it's difficult to drag a horse deep into the brush… I’m sorry.” His words were slow and sincere.

“Oh... I understand.” Was all she could say and she hung her head low.

They both sat in silence chewing on salty jerky.

"Ugh, my stomach hurts, I think I need to go…” She groaned in discomfort. She stood up and headed behind a large oak tree.

“Don't go too far...Please!” He shouted after her. He sat in the sandy bank and rubbed his face and eyes, he hadn’t slept since the other day.

When he heard the wet splash Zofia made as she hit the ground he leaped over the counter to pick her up off of the carnage. He wiped viciously at their face with the poncho, unsure what was her blood or the others. Alas, she was fine, only unconscious. He had carried her for a mile before he was worn tired again by the weight of the armor and the girl, so he stopped at the river and dabbed her head with a wet cloth, hoping to wake her from her stopper.

He rubbed his face, emphasizing his feelings of neglected responsibility for the girl's current state. He felt stupid, he could have easily gone inside by himself and brought the treat to her. But he was being overly cautious and didn't want anyone to take the girl, or for her to stare too long at the corpse on the steps and frighten her. He could have fastened the blindfold tighter, but he secured it lightly, not wanting to hurt her. Too bad he didn't have the perception nor the experience to know when a child was lying, or it could have been avoided.

“Martin come here, look what I found!” Zofia called in excitement from beyond the tree line. Martin jerked his head from his hands and got up to his feet, he walked over briskly, curious as to what she had apparently found. He turned around the massive trunk of the tree.

“Look its a fairy! Where dancing!” The girl was laughing chipperly. The beautiful pixie was two feet tall, nude, and covered in magnificent sparkles. Zofia thought it was comical how the fairy would methodically mimic every move she made. Martins Heart sank into a pool of despair at the sight. He quickly reached for his sword but it wasn't there, and he scolded himself under his breath.

“Zofia, quickly come here.” He said in a hurried tone, waving his hand toward him.

“But we're playing, isn't she pretty, look at her sparkly wings.” The girl ignored him, she was transfixed on the hovering sprite.

“Please, Zofia, please come here!” He inched closer as he pleaded desperately with her, his hand outstretched hoping to grab her the moment she was in reach.

She scoffed like a bratty child and turned toward him but the beast began to shake violently, the girl looked back at the trembling creature. To her horror, the Beautiful milky white skin of the pixie began to split and shed off its body, and underneath was a terrible creature only known to the deep woods of the north, a Poly-hob. The monstrosity resembled a massive bullfrog with eyes that were; black, hollow, and unfeeling, teeth like a viper, and spindly arms. Before the girl had a chance to scream it lunged, grabbing ahold of her arm and sank its long hypodermic needle-like teeth into her. The pain came in waves, first burning, then cramping, then spasms. She stared into the eyes of it and screamed, but it didn't blink, it didn't feel, for it was a creature of the forest, and creatures of the forest knew no remorse. She tried to shake and tear her arm away but the beast was surprisingly strong for being half her size. It dragged her down and tried to pull her away to its burrow, her legs were kicking, all she could do was scream.

Martin quickly rushed toward her, the monster spooked and released the girl, attempting to scurry away, but Martin couldn’t allow it to escape. He grabbed its fatty leg and pulled it in close, the creature lashed out at him and tried to bite at its attacker as he pinned it with his knee. With a gloved hand, Martin shoved his fist down the slimy creatures gullet and with a forceful grunt pulled out its long barbed tongue, killing it. The beast shuttered and let out a pitiful death rattle. Martin quickly slid to his knees next to Zophia’s side thoroughly examining the girl’s arm. She thrashed and squirmed in pain. The veins in her arm began to bulge up and swell. From the location of the bite a darkness was spreading through her blood and it showed itself through the skin as a dark fluid moving through her veins. It moved slow, but where it moved her skin began to shudder and blister. She screamed until she began to cough up blood. Martin forced a thick stick in her mouth.

“Bite it!”He screamed and her jaws forcefully bit down, obeying his order. Martin held the girl's arm, feeling it and observing it for abnormalities. It was burning hot and moist with sweat, shortly the Girl began to shake violently from the approaching fever. Martin had hoped that the creature had not had the chance to inject its venom, but it had, and the transformation wouldn't be long, so much for hoping. She grunted and bit on the stick till her body relaxed and passed out from the strain. Martin couldn't treat this wound, he couldn't aid her, neither could any average Sawbones or hack Snake oil salesman. This was caused by a monstrosity of the old gods, and in turn, could only be cured by them.

The man ran back to camp and gathered what was essential, picked up the limp girl, and ran deep into the woods. He had to search for a Witch, the ancient Volwa. In his past, the only way to find this being was to journey deep in the woods until you were lost and in need, but he didn't know if it would work a second time, but he had no other choice. The girl began to cough and shake uncontrollably in his arms, so he held her tighter. He ran for almost an hour, crashing through branches, and cutting a path through the woods that hadn't been there before. He was tired from the weight of the girl and his armor, stopping to check on the girl’s condition and take a quick rest. He set her down and took a knee next to her. He laid his hands on her and felt the warmth through his gloves, startled and worried he pulled his hand away. With resolve, he removed his glove and he reached for her face and gently opened her eyelid to check her eyes. He groaned with desperate concern, raised his head and hopelessly stared into the woods.

The Dark venom had seeped into her eyes causing her scalars to turn black as ink. Her shaking began rustling the leaves so much that it sent cold chills of powerlessness into Martins' spine. Fighting against his impotence he took off his poncho and wrapped her tightly in it, and with hurried arms, he scooped the girl back up and ran headlong into the dense wilderness. Not before long, his breathing became labored and he slowed to a feeble trot, his strength was waning as was his hope. He stopped at a clearing, a meadow with sizable drainage of rainwater. He put the girl down, falling to his knees he slipped his hands in and drank greedily from the pool. The wind began to pick up and whip around them, stormily blowing the meadow grass about. In the tree line there was a rustle, then a growl, and then Martin saw blue flickers of light and drew his sword in response. He could see the astral blue eyes of a beast he had read about but never faced in combat, A kludde. A beast born from the ashy remains of burned Witches. The mere outlines of the shadowy body that hid in the tree line filled him with inpatient alarm, he stared back down at the girl who was convulsing inside of the poncho. He couldn't be caught in a skirmish while the girl needed immediate attention. Though the Omen of the Kludde was a good one, he couldn't get stuck fighting it, for he would never truly win. When a Kludde was struck dead Seven more would chew their way out of its stomach. Martin knew he couldn't fight nor outrun the beast, for he would surely die. He looked at the girl and thought about leaving her, what was another soul on his conscience, he could run and live another day. But as he stared at the shaking child wrapped tightly in his poncho, he was overcome with responsibility, an intense love he had not experienced since he was a boy. He quickly looked into the tree line and saw the luminescent blue fiery eyes stalk every move he made. So, while staring into the abyss Martin began to unfasten his armor, dropping it on the ground. Without a second thought, he picked the girl up from the grass and ran, leaving his beloved armor behind.

He moved quickly for he knew he didn't have much time before the beast would most likely give chase. He rushed through the field toward the woods, hoping to lose it in the brush, perhaps hide. There was no sound, there was no warning, but as Martin looked back he saw a terrible animal that wasn't demonic nor natural, it was older than the light and fed on the corpses of children. It was a large wolf-like beast covered in the darkness of old, it ran swiftly on its hind legs with its front legs propped out in front of it. It had large bear paws and two wretched green scaled wings jutted from its back. The Kludde Moved unnaturally fast, faster than Martin had anticipated. Its face was neutral and expressionless as were most things of the old world. He broke into the tree line and the beast followed. Mockingly the sky cracked open and a torrential storm of freezing rain poured upon them, he didn't pay attention to the cold or his fatigue, he just ran. He sprinted over fallen boughs and swerved in out of the tree line, he certainly felt quicker without his armor. The Kludde was fast and Martin could hear the breaking of limbs behind him but no matter what, he didn't look back, not once. The chase lasted until nightfall, the Kludde a step behind the entire way.

Martin was overcome with exhaustion and was raw from the cold. After hours of running, he took a miss step and slipped on a mossy branch, tripping and spilling the fevered girl onto the ground. He rolled over and drew his sword ready for a fight. But, he didn't see the spectral blue eyes of the beast, nor did he hear any movement besides the persistent pitter-patter of rain. With needed relief, he sunk low and sucked in deep breaths of air, as hard as he tried it almost felt impossible to catch his breath. He wheezed and it felt like his throat was coated in blood, the taste was metallic but it could have just been a trick of the mind. The girl was pale and her lips blue, her body shook, her sclerae were black, and her head began to twitch uncontrollably an hour or so ago. With care, Martin pulled the poncho wrapping back and what fell out made him weep uncontrollably and scream into the night.

“The god of man is a failure!” His wrath commanded a reverence among the old things around him and the rain ceased its vexation.

“Where are you Circe?!” He said as he stood up, opening himself to the night. “Where are you, Witch?! You said if I needed you again all I would have to do is lose myself in your world. Well, I’ve been lost my whole life, yet the gods of the woods abandon me too!” His voice cracked and he began to sob harder.

“I need you! This girl needs you!” He fell to his knees and embraced Zofia “I’d trade my life for her, damn me to hell but spare the child!” Unashamed he cried into the forsaken autumn night. He held her bitten arm that had transformed into a hideous spindly thing, with bumpy toad-like skin and lesions. Before the morning she would no doubt be transformed into a Poly-hob, cursed by the old gods of the woods to a life of monstrosity. No pardon or rest was given to him because from within the forsaken night Martin saw the flaming blue eyes of the Kludde, but there was more than one pair, there had to be a dozen or so. Martin laid the girl down and covered her with the Poncho. He stood and drew his sword, he stared and stood-fast at the beasts of the night, unyielding to their horror. A thick fog began to climb up from the mossy ground. The beasts all at once rushed him and pummeled Martin with their momentum alone. Martin slashed outward and struck a few of the Kludde, but they didn't yelp, they didn't howl, they kept on with the assault. He danced around them; masterfully he would pirouette, pounce and strike, evade, and repeat. Countless years of training and survival showed his expertise in killing strange and foreboding creatures, but, the Kludde began to prove too much. They rushed him and swatted the man down, gashing his side with massive claws. He pierced one’s belly, but another monster began to gnaw at his leg, causing him to holler and strike at its head. There seemed to be no end to the creatures, like ants they piled on one another slowly crushing Martin. The fog grew thick on the ground, so thick it was impossible to see anything below the knee. This began to frighten the Kludde and they wearily backed away from where the fog was spreading. Martin propped himself up and crawled, backward away from the beasts, till his back was resting against a strange surface. It wasn't a tree, or a rock, or hillside, instead, it was the mud covered walls of a cottage. It was a familiar cottage he had once seen but not seen as he was running through the woods a moment ago. The door slowly opened and out stepped a viscously beautiful woman with black wavy hair that shined a brilliant purple in the dark of midnight. Her eyes glowed a cruel orange, and her lips were sharp like daggers.

“Begon beasts, or suffer your fate.” With a forceful wave of her hand, she commanded them, Yet they did not heed her warning. They snapped their jaws and snarled at the Witch, but she was unfazed. She grimaced and outstretched her hand, and then began to turn it, with an effort she closed her hand as if she were crushing an apple. From the Forest floor, razor vines and tree branches came twisting out and ensnared the beasts. She opened her hand and the limbs dragged the creatures under the earth until you could no longer hear their pitiful cries. A strong breeze blew by as Martin gasped in pain. Playfully The Volwas orange chthonic eyes flashed down at Martin who laid there bleeding. The dense fog covered the ground around her cottage.

“Now, If I remember correctly, you swore you would never ask for my aid again?”