“Higher! Higher!” Pim said, sitting on the wolf’s shoulders and having an absolute blast by the looks of it.

At least that makes one of us.

I lugged my exhausted body after them as we walked down a long and relatively wide path. It was muddy as all hell and the rain never really stopped, turning the ground into a slippery mix of mud on gravel on stone.

At least I don’t have to think about where we’re going. Just down, down, down. My boots are soggy. My hair is sticking to my face. I just want a bed and something to eat. Anything.

I’ve got a headache. Ugh.

“Where are we going?” I asked. I wasn’t really interested in the where, I just wanted to know if it was close or not. I’d really preferred an ‘around the corner’ to a ‘we’re almost there’.

“It is almost around the corner.”

“Which means?”

“One minute.”

A minute could be a long time. Anything could happen between then and now.

Let’s… not think like that.

Pim suddenly perked up, his ears wandering around like a small animal sampling the air. “I think I can hear something again.”

Fuck me. It just never ends.

The wolf stopped and surveyed the area. He probably couldn’t hear anything himself, but neither could I. We hadn’t seen or heard of any fleas ever since the… talk and we’d left the flea hosts in the dust long before that. Still, judging by what lived in this graveyard, it had to be either one of them or the procession.

If it’s the procession, at least we get to stop walking for a bit. My feet are killing me. No blisters though! Thank the gods for sending me boots, boots, boots, boots.

No one said anything for a few precious moments. I couldn’t stand the growing feeling of unease and broke the silence first.

“So, what is it?”

“Mmm… feetsteps. No singing.” Said Pim.

Of course.

“Flea hosts.” I said.

“Blood-sucked.” said the wolf. We looked at each other.

“Can you run?” he asked me.

“Maybe. Not very fast, though.”

I wanted to say no. My left leg wasn’t doing so well. Where it had stung with every step before, now it just felt numb and tingly. If I had to run, in armor and with the condition my body was in, I wouldn’t make it very far before reenacting the timeless romance of ‘face meets floor’. But I didn’t.

“We shall pick up the pace until we arrive at the pier. If they still follow, we fight.”

With that, both me and the wolf set out in what was possibly the slowest run I’d ever, well, run. I suspected he was slowing himself down on purpose, even though he was carrying a big sword, Pim and way more armor than even I’d had the luck to be buried with. I knew it was so I wouldn’t fall behind. I knew it was because he couldn’t see without my light.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel like a burden.

“This is the place?” I asked, huffing and straining.

The ground had turned muddy very quickly beneath our feet and more so than worrying about keeping up my speed for long, I had to make sure that I didn’t slip and sprain an ankle or land on my broken hand.

“Mhm.”

In front of us there it was again, that horrible, horrible swamp stretching out beyond my sight, dark and putrid. A small wooden shack leaned into it to the side, so far that I mistook the roof for a wall. Between catching my breath and looking out for any movement beneath the thick goop, I swore I could taste the mud and the water on my tongue again.

Images of a muted struggle underwater. Thrashing, twisting, wrenching, choking, bubbles fleeing the scene and I’m alone, all alone.

I shook my head. I’m not alone anymore.

It’ll be over soon now. There’s a bridge somewhere over here, or a nice dry path maybe. The swamp looks deeper than anywhere else, there’s no way the wolf was expecting to just walk through it. I think I’d rather cut ties with the temple and live my life out here than ever do that again.

“Huh. Bit deeper than last I remember.” he said.

…he wasn’t seriously thinking of doing exactly that, right? Right?

“S–so. Where do we go?” I asked.

The wolf looked left, then right, scanning the shoreline. Or, well, the poorly defined area where muddy and slippery ground turned from ankle deep to knee deep. You wouldn’t notice the difference between the two, even under better light conditions.

I didn’t. I was staying at a very respectable distance from the line where I supposed the water maybe got deep. The wolf had a better grasp on where the ‘waterline’ started and with his size, he wasn’t in much danger of sinking too deep either.

Actually, maybe the extra weight cancels that out. I don’t think metal armor like we both have is great for walking in the swamp and he's carrying a few extra pounds compared to me.

“Ah, there it is.” He exclaimed with a sense of relief before walking to the right of the hut.

I followed him, the sound of squelching and the tug of the swamp at our feet sent tinges of unease through my body with every step.

We arrived at what I thought were just a few logs sitting at an angle in the water. A broken wooden bridge, maybe. Then, the wolf found a rope attached to them and through some maneuvering pulled them up. He stood in an oddly straight-backed crouch, as if he was trying to sit down on air as he balanced having a child sitting on his back with trying to pull whatever that was out of the muck.

Turns out, we’re neither going by road nor bridge. We’re going by raft. Great.

I looked at the unfolding scene, the wolf laboriously dragging the soggy wood out of the swamp, sloshing and splashing loudly as he did so.

There has to be a better way. There has to. That thing looks like it sucked up half the swamp, it’s never gonna hold. How are we going to steer, is there a long pole or a paddle or something around here?

With my luck, we’ll have to paddle with a spoon.

“So… no dry road?” I asked.

“No.”

“No bridge?”

“Not one.”

“No… agh, I don’t know, anything else? Anything better? A boat, maybe?”

The wolf turned around to face me. “Unless you have a better idea, this is it.”

I sighed. Great. I didn’t have a better idea, of course, my mind was mush, just like everything else in my body.

Maybe I’m not looking at this the right way. Maybe this is the best option? The raft may be soaked, but at least it’s big and from the looks of it, the rope keeping it together is still holding strong.

Yes. Yes, let’s look at it this way: All we need now is a paddle, or a long stick. Hells, a particularly sturdy branch might do it.

“I shall search for a paddle.” The wolf said. He put Pim down on the raft and Pim really didn’t like that, making all kinds of noises of disgust.

“You stay here with the kid. Keep an eye out.” And with that, he disappeared into the abandoned hut with much sloshing and clatter.

“A–alright.”

I can do this. All I need to do is stand around and make sure nothing sneaks up on us. Easy. I can do that, no problemo. I’ve got a club and with Pim’s greater than average hearing, together, we’ll have no problem catching any ne’er do wells trying to sneak up on–

“The shuffling noise is back.”

GAH! Is one minute of rest too much to ask?

“Wolf! Pim can hear flea hosts again!”

A muffled, tinny curse escaped from the hut. The wolf emerged shorty thereafter, his sword in one hand and a pair of broken paddles in the other.

“How many? Where?”

“Uhh, over there! And I can hear, uhhh, six? No, seven!”

“Shit” both me and the wolf said simultaneously.

We can’t fight that. The wolf might be able to, if we were uphill from them and they could only attack us one at a time, like the three people at the very beginning of this adventure when they followed me on to a small bridge.

As it was, we were out in the open, downhill and in terrain that was decidedly un-good.

“On the platform. Now!”

I wasted no time and scrambled on to the raft, picking up Pim so I could put him in the middle. The wolf threw his scavenged paddles and his sword on it, before leaning down and pushing. With a squelch, it started to move off the marshy ground and into deeper waters.

I should go down and help him. No, no, I wouldn’t be much help with one arm.

I took a paddle and paddled. It didn’t help much, as I could only use one arm and we were still mostly on ‘dry’ land. I paddled harder, to the detriment of some.

“PTFFF! Stop that!”

“…sorry wolf.”

Note to self: check if someone’s behind me before I start paddling.

“They’re coming closer.” Pim said, sounding mildly panicked.

Not good.

“Wolf, I don’t mean to worry you, but–“

“Then don’t.”

“Oh, ok.”

I sat there silently, looking out into the swamp. The flea hosts were coming, there was no doubting it. I couldn’t help but fear what was inside the swamp more. The wolf had told me of all kinds of horrors lurking within it, but they didn’t feel quite real to me yet.

Every single one, except the giant fish didn't.

The feeling of mud, slowly forcing itself against my will down and into my lungs. Slimy, thick, rancid, I can breathe, but I can’t breathe, and I can breathe but I can’t breathe.

I’m not drowning. I never was. I have the ring. I’m safe.

I took in an unsteady breath and tried to fiddle with my ring. It was on my right hand though and it stung when I did. It was all too swollen to pull it off. With a final shudder, the raft left the land behind it and floated into the murky unknown. I’d be lying if I said I felt anything but terrified as the feeling of solid ground beneath my butt made way for the gentle dimple of an all too soggy raft.

The wolf was still pushing, but the water was quickly rising to above his hip, when I turned towards him and saw the first shapes at the edge of my dim light. There were indeed seven roughly human figures, slowly trotting over to where our raft and the wolf was making loud sloshing sounds.

“They’re here.”

Are they gonna follow us into the swamp? I sure hope not.

With a lurch, the wolf pulled himself on to the wooden platform. He didn’t lose much time getting a paddle and quickly went to work, increasing the distance between us and them. He didn’t care to look over his shoulder even once. Pim was looking very uncomfortable, holding George tight like a lifeline.

I was just left staring at them.

“Rye? We. Need. To. Paddle.” Said the wolf in between strokes.

I wasn’t so sure.

“Something feels off.”

“Yeah, well. If we only paddle on one side, we will go in circles.”

“No. No, that’s not what I mean. Look.” I pointed at the array of oddly passive figures. “They’re not screaming. They’re not running towards us full tilt. They’re not bulging unnaturally. They’re just staring. Silently.”

“Well, long as they fail to follow us, they can ogle as much as they want.” He said.

A jolt went through our raft and while my heart was trying its best to pump the pervasive fear through my entire body, I knew it was more realistic that we had hit a rock than a slimy monster beneath the waves.

It turned out to be neither, as the wolf fished up what looked like a rope leading back to the shoreline with his paddle. We were still moored to something at the shore.

Shit.

I scooted towards it, before realizing that my club was probably not gonna cut through the rope. The raft tilted a bit as the wolf leaned over, carefully trying to keep his balance. He stood still for a moment, sword raised over his head, before he swung it at the rope.

It didn’t cut through. The rope was absolutely rotted, for sure, but the wolf’s sword had probably never seen worse days either. He pulled it back for a second swing, but even that didn’t cut through more than a third of it. He swore. I kept my gaze fixated on the tick hosts at the shore.

They don’t look like tick hosts. Baggy clothes. No bulging ticks in place of muscle. Who or what are they then and what are they doing just standing there?

“Nnnnh.”

Sounds coming from Pim got my attention back on him. He was completely curled up into a ball and desperately trying to fold his ears into themselves. These people, their clothes, they look almost like… Pims… clothes…

Something really isn’t right.

I scooted over to his side and put a hand on his back.

“Hey. Hey Pim, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. Are you hurt? Scared?”

“…hear them…” His voice was almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I can hear them.” He said.

The people on the shore?

“What’re they saying Pim?”

He remained silent for a moment, the sound of the wolf sloshing and hacking in the background ever present.

“…elp. Light. Come back. Gold. Help. Land. Jewels. Help. Don’t Leave. Gods. Light…”

I sat still for a moment, my mind churning. They were talking. The figures were talking.

Those aren’t tick hosts. Those are people. I can see it now, the tattered robes. The white of the eyes dimly reflecting my light. The faces, begging me for help.

I can’t say no. I have to help them.

“Rye?”

“Yes, Pim?”

“I’m scared.”

Me too, buddy. I’m not even sure if they’re friendly or not. Still, that doesn’t change what I have to do.

“Wolf? We have to turn around. Those’re people standing at the shore.”

He stopped hacking at the rope and looked to where I was pointing. Then, he went back to work, as if they weren’t there.

“Ignore them.”

“What?”

“Ignore. Them.”

“WHAT?”

“You heard me.”

I wish I hadn’t. First, he wasn’t going to help me out with getting Pim out of his stone prison, then he said I should have left the old lady and the Bekki to their fates, then he wanted me to leave half a dozen people behind? Leave them between the spider swamp and the graveyard filled with bloodsucking horrors?

“You can’t be serious.”

“I can think of a few very good reasons why I am.”

He didn’t even turn around to face me and just crouched down on his knees, now sawing away at the rope. He didn’t seem bothered at all as he started listing why we shouldn’t go back and help them.

“They outnumber us. They could be hiding weapons. They could be hostile. They could be diseased. They will weigh us down. They are barely human as is, the dregs. They are not our concern. They–“

“You’re cruel.” I said. “Heartless, too.”

What he said was true, I know. I was just angry. Frustrated. I’d like to say that my mouth moved on its own, but I did truly feel what I said when I did. It was the fear speaking, the anger, the exhaustion. The helplessness.

“Inhuman.”

I was slinging mud without a care where it landed. The wolf didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. He was calm and focused, and I hated him as much for it as I hated myself for not being able to be calm and collected like he was right now.

“You may argue if you wish, but it will not change what lies before us.” He said in a calm voice.

“Shut up. I don’t care. I want to save them. I need to.”

“You do not ‘need’ to.” He cut through the rope and finally, it snapped.

“What do YOU know about ME? You’ve been stuck in a damn hole in the ground for gods knows how long. You barely met me a day ago, how are you supposed to know anything about me? Oh sure, you had a nice little speech about how killing is good and dying is bad, but I don’t CARE, because I’m a good little person and good little people don’t leave other people to DIE.”

There was silence on the raft as it slowly floated on the boggy water. The wolf was still sat on his knees, facing away from me. He took up a paddle and I swear, the wolf’s head on his shoulder was frowning.

“It was not your fault the old warden died.”

“SHUT UP! I–I order you. I order you! By your fucking oath, turn around. Back to the shore. Get the people on board and protect them with that life of yours I’m already regretting having so damned painfully saved.”

I was breathing ruggedly by the end. I wasn’t thinking much at that point, just noting that I seemed to have finally reached the wolf. His body froze and for a moment, the world was still again.

“As you command, saviour.” I had never heard him speak with so much venom before. He obeyed, even to my more than unreasonable request, and paddled all the way back to the shore.

He didn’t bother looking at me. I didn’t dare look him in the eye.

We arrived at the shore and before I could even take stock of who these people were, they fell on their knees before me. The mud soaked their ancient and tattered robes, the dimmed golds and reds, blues and purples, yellows and ochre. Robes that must have belonged to kings, to queens.

“Jewels…” One said.

“Land…” another.

“…hand of my daughter…”

“…help me…”

“…cloths…”

“Honor…”

“Who…am…I…”

A memory flickered to the front of my mind.

Monarchs. They are monarchs of… of this country. This place. Regents of old. They were buried here, building greater and greater places of final rest to impress upon mortals and gods alike their greatest achievements in life.

“…riches…”

“…don’t…leave…us…”

That some of them were still stuck here and not with the sun was probably an indication that they weren’t all that great after all. Still, that wouldn’t stop me. Not with their pitiful display, prostrating themselves in the mud. Before me.

“…cloths…”

“…boons…”

Me, of all people! These people have ruled our empire, conquered forest lands and maybe even met a messenger of the gods themselves. Me? I’m just a farm girl, one of eighteen. I was buried in armor, and I still don’t know why, but that’s about it. I’m not special. I’m just me.

“Get up.” I said with a tone that said I was impatient. I didn’t quite want to come across that way, not when they were literally throwing themselves at my feet, but I didn’t have the energy in me to sound polite, even if my heart was telling me that I was doing the right thing.

“…hand of my daughter…”

“I won’t take anything for helping you.” I said.

“…riches?” said another one of them.

“No. No riches. Nothing. We’re going back to the temple.”

“…cloths…”

“…temple?”

“…riches…”

“We’ll be safe there. I promise.” I forced a smile. These people were even more unnerving up front, their faces like those of dried-up corpses, their eyes like tiny, distant white eggs, their voices hoarse.

“…safe.”

They probably stumbled through the darkness – complete darkness – for gods knows how long. Hearing the world, feeling it but never seeing it, or even themselves. Then, along comes me. Glowing, armored, their savior in shining muck. The single thing they can see. The single thing they can be certain truly exists.

The resemblance they drew to the me from a week ago was uncanny.

“Safe…”

“…safe…”

They looked just like me. Just as rugged, confused and forgotten as all the rest of us. This was hell and everyone in it had died at some point to land down here. Maybe it wasn’t, but I would have plenty of time to debate that when we finally got out of here. All of us.

I’m a good egg. This is what good eggs do.

I herded them on to the raft. I had to carefully place them nearly by hand as the combined weight of seven people plus Pim plus George plus the wolf plus me dipped the raft well below the waterline. We had to balance all their weight just to keep it from toppling over even while we weren’t moving.

By the time I was done, they had formed a haphazard circle on the wooden float, Pim and George in the middle, me and the wolf on either side, paddles in hand. Gently, ever so gently, we pushed ourselves away from the shore and into the waiting bog.

I’m glad in some way that I’m as far as I can be from the wolf. I forced him to do this, against his will. The water’s up to my knees even while kneeling. He’s right, this is a monumentally stupid idea. But I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to admit that I know it is and still chose to go through with it.

I don’t want to admit that I can’t guarantee these people won’t be a problem.

But above all, I don’t want to admit one thing. That deep in my heart, I possibly didn’t only choose to bring them with us because it was the right and just thing to do. That I wasn’t trying to balance the scales, to save more people than I had killed. That deep in my heart, I was just absolutely terrified of being in the swamp again. Being alone again.

That deep in my heart, if the giant fish did show up, I was hoping it would get one of them instead of me.