It was a bright, cold winter’s morning, and enough light pierced the trees that visibility in the red dungeon mist wasn’t too bad. They moved cautiously, aware that any one of the trees they passed could be another blightroot tree or hiding monsters lurking beyond. They’d left Corvin’s party back in the village to stand guard, something he hadn’t exactly complained about.

Hump followed at the centre of their group, focusing only on not getting ambushed by any hungry monsters and leaving the others to guide the way. Between Celaine, Teff, and Jacob, a flash of light up ahead was all they needed. The three of them ran ahead, doing their best to find the fastest route and search for danger. When they came to a stop up ahead, Hump grew nervous. He knew they’d been getting close. He came to stand beside them, reaching for a tree to catch his breath.

“Stop!” Jacob blurted, holding up a hand.

Hump froze, following his finger to a thick, silver rope that ran down the tree beside him. Or rather, it ran up. The canopy above was full of thick webs. Birds and many of the bats they’d seen flying over the forest before littered it, cocooned in a grey web that reminded Hump of dried out clay.

“Greydeath spiders,” Jacob said. “You don’t want to get that stuff on your hand.”

“No, I do not. Thanks.”

“We’ll move as a group from here,” he said. “I want defenders on either side and up at the front. I’ll take the front. Be ready for a fight. You get hurt, Fila will be there for you. Don’t run, and don’t die. We’re safest together.”

They kept moving. Soon, sound filtered through the forest. A distant shout, then a huge, snarling roar that cut through everything else. A surge of fear washed through Hump.

“Any idea what that was?” Emilia asked without turning back.

They were all advancing with their weapons out now, a palpable tension amongst them.

“No,” Jacob said, concern in his voice.

“That was a razorclaw,” Celaine said. She was walking at Hump’s side, her bow drawn.

“Impossible,” Marcela said. “Razorclaws don’t live this far south. We hunted them all to extinction."

Celaine shrugged. “Evidently not.”

Hump had heard the same. The only cases of razorclaws this far into Alveron’s lands were those brought in by people—either as exotic pets for the wealthy or for fighting games. They were monsters contained to the Fallen Lands. Dominant predators capable of killing anything that Stonebark Forest might have to offer, including a few adventurers caught out alone in the forest. They were fast, devastatingly powerful, and capable of working together.

There was another shout—a woman this time—panic clear in her voice.

Jacob sprinted. “We need to hurry.”

Hump’s heart raced. The forest steepened, and they followed it downhill. Yellow light shone ahead, close enough that it illuminated the underside of the leaves above—the remnants of some blessing or magic. The sounds of shouting grew clearer. The wind howled, and someone cried out in pain. Through the trees, Hump spotted a small rocky crag jutting out of the ground.

Three figures stood before it; a woman and two men fighting shoulder to shoulder while three giant cats prowled a half circle around them, forcing them further and further back against the rocks. There was no doubt in Hump’s mind that they were razorclaws. They matched all the tales of them perfectly.

The creatures were light brown, with darker stripes running along the length of their bodies. Each had four giant and muscled legs, paws the size of a man’s head with claws as long as daggers. The beasts hunched forward on all fours, still not aware of their presence. They snarled, revealing teeth that could tear a man’s arm off, and yellow eyes that filled Hump with the urge to run even from a distance. They had a mane of horns around their head, each one sharp along the edges like a blade. A tail whipped behind them with more spikes protruding from the end, thin and light so as not to impact its mobility yet appearing no less deadly for it. Even their fur seemed thick and sharp, as if being brushed by it might shred skin.

The beasts kept their distance, working together to exhaust the adventurers, the crag at their backs their only means of survival. The flat rock guarded them against an attack from the rear while they kept the beasts at bay, but it wouldn’t last long. There was a body not far from them, a bloody trail on the ground showing it had been dragged from the group. The person’s armour was torn and bloodied. Their face was eaten, a mess of bloody meat and broken bones remaining.

It made Hump sick.

Even backed against a wall, bronze rankers were no easy prey. A tall man in heavy armour wielded a spear, water trailing the bladed end as it moved, walls emerging from it like a streak of paint and smashing back their attacks. A smaller man fought beside him, wielding a sword that was more paddle than blade, blasting howling gusts with each strike. Behind the two, a woman wielded ice to block off paths with spikes or smash back the razorclaws with thick pillars.

The razorclaws didn’t commit to an attack, instead harassing them, picking them apart slowly either to avoid risking injury or to relish in their hunt. And it was working. They were on their last legs, sluggish, their weapons drooping, their bodies covered in sweat and blood. The woman’s left arm hung limp at her side, blood dripping from it, shimmering in the light of her icy powers. She had a long gash across her stomach, staining her light brown robes red. The men seemed to have it a little better. Each was stained in blood all over, but they were still reacting decisively to each attack that came their way.

“Shoot them, Daniela!” Jacob shouted.

His archer came to a stop, her feet thudded as she planted them in the ground, earth entrenching her. She raised her bow, an arrow manifesting in her hand as if made of dust. Bronze light filled it, and she let it loose.

It flew true, a streak of light through the mist. The razorclaws saw them now, but not even they were fast enough to dodge. It flew true, piercing the right-most of the beasts high in its thigh. It yelped and retreated, snarling in their direction. As Daniela readied another arrow, they exploded into the trees, disappearing amongst them.

Hump didn’t dare stop as everyone around him kept charging forward. To be left alone now was to be mobbed by three very angry razorclaws. They crossed the final two hundred paces to the crag in formation, forming a half circle around the wounded adventurers, the crag at their back.

“Stay behind us.” Marcela took a position in the centre, standing slightly out-front, Len right behind her with his wards ready.

In the moment of reprieve, Hump inspected the adventurers. They stared back with exhausted, unblinking eyes. To Hump, it seemed they weren’t quite sure that they were real. Lost in the dungeon’s mists and hounded by monsters, it was easy to understand why.

“Do you think they ran?” Marcela asked.

“Razorclaws don’t run,” Celaine said. “They stalk. We must remain on guard.”

“Fila, tend to them,” Jacob ordered. “The rest of you hold the half circle. How many of you have control abilities?”

“I do,” Hump said.

Eve, Len, Nina, and Dylan all gave their affirmations.

“Perfect,” Jacob said. “Focus your efforts on a single target and hold them in place—preferably not the injured one. That will leave just two for the rest of us to take care of. Tanks, hold your positions. Archers and damage dealers, mob the closest target and kill it fast.”

It was a good plan. Hump drew runes into the ground at his feet, using the chance they had to prepare an Earthen Grasp formation. Bud, Dylan, and Emilia formed up ahead of him, Celaine at his side. The five of them covered the left side of the crag, Marcela and her party at the centre, along with Jacob’s, while Eve’s took the right. Even with so many Chosen, Hump knew there was no guarantee that they would escape this without casualties. Razorclaws had the power to kill a person instantly, and their hides were thick and tough enough that if they truly put their minds to it, there wouldn’t be much the rest of them could do to peel it off in time. One opportunity, one mistake, and it could cost someone their life.

Silence filled the air between them. The mist made it difficult to see, moving gently, the trees above creating shadows.

“Movement.” Jacob raised a sword, aiming slightly left of the centre.

Larisa aimed her wand and a piercing bolt of light flew into the mist, twisting and spiralling through the air, chasing its target to the right. It found the creature, the spell latching onto its body and making it shine with light.

Without a moment’s pause, it dashed from the trees straight toward Eve’s party. Heather’s arrow was still clear in its thigh, blood pooling on its fur—not Hump’s target. He held his magic. The others could handle it.

Dalton took the front, Brielle and Marcela supporting the paladin from either side. The creature let loose a snarl and Hump couldn’t help but stare at it, a jolt of fear making him unable to look away.

“Left side!” Celaine snapped.

Hump whirled around in time to see two razorclaws charging their exposed left. They were already close—so close they must have been hiding behind a bush or something nearby. They dashed the short distance, so fast Hump could barely bring his staff around. Someone cried out to his right, but there wasn’t time to look.

Bud lunged ahead, stabbing, but the razorclaw turned its head and took the attack on its shoulder. It left a shallow cut along its shoulder. Frostfire suddenly blazed, freezing it and causing the creature to stagger. Dylan was there then with his staff, raising it for a swing, when the other suddenly leaped at them. Celaine loosed an arrow, catching it under the foreleg. The shaft snapped off and flew to the side, not slowing the beast down.

Dylan grunted as it barrelled him to the ground, tearing the staff from his hand with its teeth. Without thinking Hump stabbed his staff toward the beast, a Focused Beam exploding from the focus. It hammered into the chest of the creature and sent it staggering back.

Hump channelled his essence into the formation at his feet. He clenched his fist, bronze essence exploding from his staff and burying itself into the ground. He lifted his arm, muscles straining as if he lifted a great weight. “Earthen Grasp.”

He heaved, and a fist of earth erupted from the ground, wrapping around the staggered razorclaw. It flailed in his grip, crumbling earth and stone, straining Hump’s will. Then vines emerged around it, purple miasma clouded its face, fuming from its body. Its strength weakened, and Hump held it tighter, crushing his fingers together.

Hump caught sight of a blur, as all the archers in their group loosed arrows into the beast Bud was still fighting, needling its body and buying Emilia a moment to close in. She drew back her rapier, targeting the one still free, her entire blade shining before she unleashed a barrage of perfect stabs at its side. The razorclaw raised its head and cried out, retreating with a limp. It shook its head, its neck muscles bulging, chuffing a breath and then releasing a long, grumbling growl.

Still the one in Hump’s grasp fought. He felt his spell weakening. He screamed as his hand and mind strained, desperately trying to hold the spell together. Cold lancing through him.

There was a yellow flash. Jacob charged from the centre, leaping, both swords held in a downward grip. He dropped through the air fast, slamming against the creature and burying his blades through Hump’s earthen fist and deep into its flesh. The razorclaw let out a scream, striking at him with its tail. Jacob fell back, pulling his blades with him. A fountain of blood jetted from the wounds and it let loose an agonised cry. Hump released it, letting it collapse to the ground, where it snarled and clawed at the air, warning them back.

As the other razorclaw limped back, the arrows that filled its body making it slow, Bud stepped toward the one on the ground. He dodged a sluggish wave of its tail as the beast flailed on the ground, and plunged his sword into its throat, right at the base of its neck. Blood pulsed from the wound, spurting across the forest floor. Its thrashing weakened, and then stopped. It released a long sigh, and then went still.

Behind it, the other whined softly, slowly backing away. There was still a red glint in its eye, but it seemed the death of its pack member had brought back some sense, not to mention the arrows that pierced it all over its body. It snarled at them one last time, baring long teeth, and then retreated back into the forest as more arrows followed it. Hump heard a whimper from the trees and knew at least one had hit.

“Where’s the other one?” Celaine asked, out of breath.

“Retreated,” Marcela said. “We opened up its side. I don’t see it lasting long.”

“If they escape, the villagers will never have another night of peace,” Hump said.

“My party will go after them,” Jacob said. “Get them back to the village safely.”

Marcela nodded. “Go! We can get them back from here.”

Jacob and his party raced after the wounded razorclaws through the forest, meanwhile Marcela turned to the surviving adventurers. The spearman had collapsed to the ground, completely out of breath, while the other two were just about still standing.

“Thank you for your help,” the wind user with the large sword said. “I don’t think we could have lasted much longer.”

“I’m just glad we made it. I’m Marcela Daston. Our parties have been defending some of the villages nearby and we saw signs of your fight.”

The man with the spear appeared a little shocked. “Marcela Daston, as in daughter of Count Daston?”

Marcela smiled. “Yes.”

“I am honoured, milady. My name is Tanek.”

“Be honoured later,” Len said. “We need to get out of here. Can you move?”

The spearman heaved himself to his feet.

“Dalton, what about you?” Marcela asked.

The paladin had an arm over Brielle’s shoulder and was keeping the weight off his right foot.

“With help,” he said.

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose the foot,” Eve said. “I thought it had you when it started dragging you back.”

“You and me both.”

Hump approached Dylan and offered him a hand, pulling the large man to his feet. “Are you alright?”

He had a long cut down his shoulder, and dozens of small scratches on his chest. “I think so,” he said, looking himself over. He sighed. “This is going to itch like mad.”

“Yeah,” Hump said. “Was it just me or were they not as strong as you expected?”

“I suspect the dungeon stopped them from being able to think properly,” Celaine said. “Razorclaws don’t normally go down so easily, nor do they attack so foolishly.”

Looking over the surviving adventurers, Hump thought maybe they really did get lucky for once. They’d lost Matthias last time, but at least now three lives were saved. It had been a risk, but if it had been his party trapped against the crag, he liked to think fellow adventurers would come for them too.