Ferrith gritted his teeth as he again brought his hand up to his chest, as though doing it while on the run was somehow painful. He made a fist and another ogre shimmered into view; just a basic fat one with pale skin and tusks. This time he didn’t even issue it any commands, we just ran past the poor bastard as he looked around in confusion. I twisted around in Grog’s arms and saw firsthand why Ferrith hadn’t bothered giving the new ogre any commands. The beast following us had already closed the gap between us. It was impossibly fast; a blur of yellow and black as it charged across the field. It leapt in the air and tackled the ogre to the ground, mouth around his throat. The two other beasts following behind the first one let out a piercing howl before joining in this new feast.

All the new ogre had been to us was a meat shield. A sacrifice, so that we might be spared. If I’d seen a character on TV pull that kind of cowardly move I might have sneered at their immorality, but it was hard to maintain those convictions when I saw what sort of fate might easily have awaited us otherwise. Razor-sharp talons ripped the ogre apart in seconds. It barely had time to groan in agony before it died. The first one, the hunter, hopped forward as soon as the ogre was down. It wasn’t interested in eating, it just wanted to kill.

“There’s one more still coming!” I warned. “It already killed that ogre and it’s still coming!”

“Fayden’s hairy asscrack!” Ferrith cursed. He ground to a halt and spun around, reaching for his sword as he did. “I might be able to take just one of them.” He whipped his sword off his back. “Let’s go, Blackheart,” he said. The sword vibrated with the word “Blackheart”, causing the sound to hang in the air longer than usual. As the vibration faded, the sword lit up in a bright orange glow. Grog copied his master to turn back and face the pursuer beasts too, still cradling me in his arms. “Behind me, Grog,” Ferrith yelled, gesturing with a flick of his head. As Grog dutifully positioned himself behind his master’s back Ferrith faced the approaching beast. He stood tall, clad in his deep blue armor of interlocking plates, a glowing sword held in his hands. He looked pretty cool, I had to admit. If I hadn’t seen yesterday how terrible he was with that blade I almost would have believed we had a chance.

The pursuer skidded to a halt in front of Ferrith, just outside the reach of his sword. “Get back!” Ferrith shouted at it. “You don’t want me. I taste like shit!” The beast started walking a slow circle to see if it could get around Ferrith’s blade. He turned with it, Grog shuffling to the side as he did to make sure he stayed “behind” his master.

I poked Grog’s arm. “Hey, let me down,” I whispered to him. He didn’t oblige, which was as disappointing as it was predictable. I was just thinking the muscly ogre might actually be useful in a fight if he wasn’t forced to carry me and I might be able to slip away in the confusion of battle, like I had last time. I tried squirming out of his grip, but he just squeezed me tighter until I was forced to stop.

The pursuer finally lunged at Ferrith. He swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing it to duck back. His timing was way too early. I thought if he’d waited a half second longer he might have been able to at least clip the creature. At the apex of his wild swing he left himself wide open for a counter attack, which the beast immediately took advantage of. It pounced, taking him to the ground with it.

I watched in horror as the beast slashed at Ferrith with its claws. His armor paid for itself, deflecting the talons easily. Ferrith still grunted in frustration while he tried to grapple with the beast. A few of the slashes raked across his helmet, leaving deep cuts across the only exposed segment of his body: his face. He dropped his sword in his desperate effort to shield himself from the continued attack, barely managing to get his gloved hands in the way as the beast tried digging into the only part of him drawing blood.

Grog let out a low, distressed moan, clearly upset but not knowing what to do. “Kick it!” I urged him. He just kept moaning. “Kick it,” I repeated. “Kick, kick.” I made a few kicking motions with one of my legs. I pointed insistently at Ferrith and the pursuer beast on top of him. He wouldn’t have long before it peeled his hands away, and once he was dead it would turn on us next. It was the most ruthless creature in the pack; still the only one more interested in killing us than eating the easy meal.

Grog took a step forward nervously. He damn well knew how to fight, so I figured he just didn’t want to do something he wasn’t commanded to do. What gave me hope was that he actually seemed upset at seeing Ferrith getting killed right in front of him. Ferrith had never ordered him to care, but it might have just happened on its own after the two of them traveled together for so long. “Yes!” I shouted when Grog took a step forward. “Yes, hurry. Kick it!” I mimed kicking one more time. “Just like that.” I know he didn’t understand my words, but neither did my cat when I told it to stop standing in front of the TV. That didn’t mean he was incapable of figuring things out.

Grog pulled back his foot and slammed it forward against the beast. It tumbled back, screeching with indignation as its talons dug into the dirt to slow it down. Grog and I succeeded in saving Ferrith; the beast was now happily going to kill us first. “Run!” I told Grog. “Run away! We have to get out of here.” He just stood there dumbly, holding me in his arms as the pursuer beast recovered its footing and charged at us. I tried to squirm free, but his arms were like tempered steel rods.

The beast bounded forward, blurring with speed as it came at us. Just as I was bracing for impact a red light erupted from the ground in front of us. It was Ferrith. He held up a hand with a fireball burning in it and threw it at the beast, halting it in its tracks. His face was bleeding badly and had some skin hanging off, but he didn’t even acknowledge the injury with a wince of pain as he rolled to his feet and snatched up his sword. “Blackheart,” he sputtered out between split lips as he stalked towards the thrashing, burning creature. As he spoke the word his sword ignited with heat once again. Flames dripped over the beast’s body, burning like napalm as it tried to shake itself off, sending sparks flying in every direction. The flames actually did start to die down, but Ferrith was on it before it could recover. He used both hands to bring his sword down, point first, on the back of the beast’s neck. The bright red blade pierced the interlocking scales protecting the monster like they were made of wet tissue paper.

Grog’s body was positively shaking in fear as he watched the violence play out, which didn’t seem to me to be a trait I would expect from a big muscly ogre, but then again he hadn’t chosen the life of an adventurer on Earris any more than I had. The pursuer beast twitched once then went still as Ferrith’s sword impaled it. I expected howls of indignant rage to echo through the remaining pack at the death of a fellow member, but instead they barely acknowledged it. One of the two beasts feeding on the ogre close by actually looked up, then went right back to its meal. So… not the best of friends, this pack, but for all I knew this particular beast had been a massive jerk.

“Marketh’s tits,” Ferrith cursed once it was dead. “Blackheart saved us there.” He wrenched his sword free and returned it to its sheath, the heat from it fading as its name was spoken a second time. “There’s always a few cursed bastards that refuse to take the free meal,” Ferrith said, “we’re lucky it was just the one this time.”

“Are you alright?” I asked, realizing how dumb the question was even as it left my lips. Of course he wasn’t “alright”, the skin of his face was split open and gushing blood.

He reached up to pinch the deepest of the cuts closed with thumb and forefinger—one crossing the length of his left cheek. The bleeding slowed, but didn’t stop. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. I didn’t exactly believe that, but in the circumstances I didn’t feel like arguing with him about it. “We need to be gone before they finish eating.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Ferrith paused. He looked at me strangely. “Thanks for saving me,” he said. “You could have run. Should have run.”