Myles’ POV

“Oh look at us, two defenceless damsels-in-distress just wandering these dark, creepy woods. Come on, stick bugs, you know you want a piece of this.”

Myles did not need [8th Sense] to sense Atakarr’s stupefied stare.

“What? I’m trying to give them incentive.”

“Right,” Atakarr said, but Myles saw her lips twitch in an almost smile.

They were using the same approach they had last time, although this time they had been wandering the forest for over half an hour and nothing had come at them yet.

Myles didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

They continued on in silence for several minutes, [8th Sense] picking up only one life signature within its range; Atakarr’s. Since the skill reached level six, Myles had become able to feel the presence of anyone around him, and though he couldn’t identify who the skill was sensing without visual confirmation, and the intent part of it seemed to still only pick up danger, Myles had high hopes for the skill yet, especially considering it had only just hit level ten.

“Is this what hunts are usually like?” Myles asked. “Long stretches of silent walking just waiting for something to happen?” The eerie silence was beginning to unnerve him, even more than the possibility of attack; after all, the plan here was to get attacked.

“Mostly, yes,” Atakarr said. “And it’s the exciting ones you want to watch out for.” The second sentence was accompanied by a look of warning, and Myles nodded in acquiescence.

He didn’t need to be told twice, his last hunt with her had been plenty exciting, and there was every possibility that this could be worse, what with something supposedly very dangerous prowling the forest.

Something creaked and they both tensed, instantly alert (so much for looking defenceless).

Eyes scanning their surroundings, Atakarr asked, “sense anything?”

“No,” he said, not even bothering to try to focus. He and Atakarr had learnt, after many, many tries, that [8th Sense] couldn’t really be targeted or controlled (not yet anyway); the skill either worked or it didn’t, trying to force it just left you with a constipated look on your face.

Not even closing your eyes, as Myles had initially thought, actually did anything. All the levelling the skill had done in the last few days was from it screaming “DANGER!” at him every time Atakarr had tried to split his skull open during their spars, which happened with alarming regularity.

“Maybe it was nothing?” Myles asked, though he didn’t sound too sure.

Atakarr eyed the treetops one more time. “Yeah, maybe,” she reluctantly agreed.

[8th Sense] warned him then. About a quarter of a second before a thick, bright pink... something that had to be approaching sonic speeds slammed into Atakarr’s torso, knocking her to the ground, and before Myles even had time to think, the object (a tongue! That was a giant tongue!) pulled back, taking Atakarr with it.

Myles screamed, even as Atakarr did, a wordless yell of terror and surprise.

About fifteen feet up, Atakarr managed to clutch a thick bough with both arms, her strength barely holding out against the pull of the tongue (like an actual fucking tongue! What the hell was up with this place?). “Myles,” she screamed at him, knocking him from his stupefaction.

Myles ran.

It was, without doubt, the absolute fastest he had ever moved in his entire life. Within a second, he was at the base of the tree Atakarr was grabbing onto, and he ran up the trunk and began to climb to her, his skills working in tandem to make him move like a well-oiled machine.

Atakarr actually seemed to be winning the tug of war between her and whatever was connected to the other end of that tongue, her strength appearing to increase with every effort she made, and Myles was almost to her (to do what he didn’t yet know), when the tongue released Atakarr, and the fact that she had been pulling with all her might while upside down worked against her.

She fell.

Time slowed as Myles watched Atakarr’s falling form in horror, mind screaming in hope that a fall from this height wouldn’t kill her, even as he saw her going down head first.

There was a flash of pink, a startled squawk from Atakarr, and Myles saw her whiz past him again, now headed up, that same damn tongue attached to her thigh.

‘Not this time,’ Myles thought as he leapt and grabbed Atakarr’s hand.

There came the loud snapping of a branch, and Myles, Atakarr, about two dozen feet of tongue, and the giant creature which said tongue was attached to, went crashing to the unforgiving forest floor.

Myles and Atakarr landed hard. Their attacker, which was much heavier and had fallen from a greater height, landed badly.

Unfortunately, hurt didn’t mean down for the count, it mostly just meant incensed.

Since Myles had been hanging onto Atakarr when they fell, she had mostly landed on him, and the young man was just giving thanks for the bent tips of her horns (because he could feel where they’d stabbed against his chest) when she was lifted off of him like she weighed next to nothing.

Atakarr and Myles had a moment while she hung suspended, almost weightless, where they stared at each other; Myles in confusion, and Atakarr in panic. The moment quickly ended when Atakarr was brought back down on him, hard.

Myles felt his rib crack even as he felt a dozen other parts of him scream in pain, his now busted nose one of them.

Atakarr was lifted again, and Myles, vision currently star-spangled from the throbbing in his nose, could barely see as a light-rock materialized in her hand and she slammed it into the tongue attached to her right thigh.

The tongue was retracted with an angry, pain-filled hiss, and Atakarr quickly dematerialised her impromptu weapon before tucking and rolling into her fall.

She rose immediately, spear appearing in her right hand, while her left hung uselessly to her side with a dislocated shoulder. Atakarr launched the spear with all her might, and Myles’ eyes followed the weapon to see it impale... a giant chameleon!? Seriously?

The animal hissed again in pain as the spear sank into its shoulder, though with the range Atakarr attacked from and the quality of her weapon, it was obvious there hadn’t been much damage.

Myles forced himself to stand as Atakarr threw a second spear, which the chameleon quickly swatted out of the air with its tongue.

Seeing that it was at a disadvantage now, the overgrown lizard (and it was overgrown, maybe ten feet long from its mouth to its curled tail) camouflaged itself—very poorly—and tried to do a runner on the duo.

“After it,” Atakarr commanded, already in hot pursuit, and Myles followed, spear in hand.

The animal didn’t get far; it was wounded and bleeding, and more damning for it, chameleons weren’t really built to run.

Atakarr and Myles threw their spears almost simultaneously, both struck (thank you [Snipe]), and before the animal could turn to retaliate it was too late; Myles and Atakarr were already way too close.

If Myles didn’t ache in places he didn’t even know he had, he probably might’ve felt something akin to remorse for the brutal butchering that followed.

By the end of it, Myles and Atakarr were panting, splattered in green blood, and the very dead chameleon had more holes in it than Swiss cheese.

“I think I can safely say this is usually not found down here,” Myles said.

“No,” Atakarr agreed as she took her shoulder in her right hand and popped it back into place. Myles winced; he’d been there. Hadn’t been anywhere near as badass about it though. “I don’t even know what this is,” Atakarr continued. “I’ve never seen it before.”

Myles looked at her in surprise. “Seriously?”

Atakarr regarded him, then walked to stand in front of him. “You know what it is?” She asked as she pinched his nose between her thumbs and—no no no wait—crack! Set the bone.

“Ouch!” Myles screamed and massaged his nose. “And yeah, I do. Ow. It’s a chameleon. Much, much bigger than the ones I’m familiar with though, but I’m starting to think that’s a theme around here.”

Atakarr nodded with a contemplative frown, then she asked, “Is it eatable?”

“What? No! I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never eaten it before.”

“All the same let’s take it back.”

“Atakarr, how exactly are we going to take that back? Neither of us can lift it.” And the inventory required an object to be held up in your hands for it to work.

“I might be able to,” Atakarr said. “I got a skill earlier, it’s called [Strongwoman]; makes me stronger irrespective of muscle mass.”

“Really? How many levels?” Myles asked.

He could have used [System Scan] to find out, Atakarr had told him that she didn’t mind it, but being in her head like that always made him uncomfortable, especially since he was the only one who could do it.

“It levelled to three during the fight, but it caps at 500.”

“Damn.” Myles couldn’t help but be amazed. “But even so, that thing looks like it weighs four times your weight, at least, I don’t think we can wait long enough for you to build the skill that high.”

Atakarr agreed. “Let’s cut out its tongue then. We’ll take that back.”

“What!? Ew! I’m not eating that thing’s tongue. That’s disgusting.”

Atakarr rolled her eyes. “Fine, let’s take the tail... and the legs. And maybe the sides.”

Myles shook his head in fond exasperation as they started on the tail, cutting it off at the base, though he had to soon stop because of his wounded rib; even though the pain wasn’t that bad, most likely due to [Pain Resistance] which was now at level 7, it wouldn't do to worsen the injury.

“Why would something like this even come down here?” Myles wondered aloud from where he sat as Atakarr hacked at the animal’s tail.

Atakarr shrugged. “Same reason all the others do, I imagine; too dangerous up there. It’s why we came after all.”

“Yeah, but what kind of predator could chase an animal like this out of its habitat? It swiped a spear out of the air with its tongue, lifted you like a feather pillow, and it can camouflage. I know you’ve told me that there are some crazy things up there but still.”

Atakarr shrugged again. “I don’t know, Myles. I don’t know what it’s like up there. I’ve told you before; the last time anybody tried to go was when Elder Raad was a child, and none returned. None ever have.”

Atakarr went back to hacking, and about a minute later, successfully severed the tail. Then she stopped and blinked.

“Myles?” She said.

“What?”

“I just got a skill.”

“Another one? What does it do?”

Atakarr reached down and touched the chameleon’s corpse. “Harvest,” she said, and the animal became wreathed in darkness for a few seconds, after which it cleared and voila; perfectly cut slabs of meat, picked-clean bones, and entrails, all arranged separately where once there had been a sole animal. The only thing that was left as is was the tail Atakarr had severed.

Atakarr turned to Myles then, and as though expecting him to know, she asked, “how?”

Myles blinked. “I have no idea. What does the skill do exactly?”

“It’s called [Harvest]. Strips off everything of value from any object or organism, but it has to be dead or completely beyond repair.”

As Myles processed the implications of what it meant that the System could give such a skill, Atakarr leaned and touched the tail. The process repeated; impenetrable darkness followed by impeccably butchered meat.

“This is... convenient,” Atakarr said, then proceeded to put everything but the entrails into her inventory. What she needed the bones for, Myles could not imagine. “Let’s go,” she said, and they walked away, the only trace of their activities left behind a bloody smear on the ground and reeking innards.