Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 26

Chapter One  / Chapter Two  / Chapter Three  / Chapter Four  / Chapter Five  / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten  / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen / Chapter Nineteen / Chapter Twenty / Chapter Twenty-One / Chapter Twenty-Two / Chapter Twenty-Three / Chapter Twenty-Four / Chapter Twenty-Five 

Chapter Twenty-Six – Once They Were People

Blayves moved slowly, although Margrave hurried him both by poking at him with both that pointy blade and just as sharp words. Toru could tell the merchant didn’t want to follow through with their demands and give up the shroud, but he had no choice.

The rest of Blayves’ acolytes moved with them, but from a safe distance. Toru looked at them, or tried to, and quickly realized that they had no faces. A deep cut in the middle of their heads acted as a mouth from which mumbled sobs flowed.

“Do you see that, Margrave?” he asked.

“What?”

“They have no faces,” Toru pointed out.

The pirate stopped for a moment. “I can’t see them, but if you say so, it must be true.”

He had so many questions on his mind. “How did you escape that magic with the candle?” he asked again.

Margrave pushed Blayves ahead quite unceremoniously. “I’ll tell you my stories, young tiger, when we have the time. For now, if Master Blayves will be so kind to show us how to get to the shroud…”

“It’s in the next room,” Toru said. “But there’s no door from outside.”

“Master Blayves, enlighten us. And tell your choir to stop it with their mumbling and crying. They won’t die today.”

“They won’t?” Toru asked. “But they’re already dead.”

Margrave laughed as if he had just heard a good joke. “And yet, they fear death just as much as the living if not more. Never trust a sea demon. It’s a good rule to live by.”

“Sea demon?” Toru echoed.

“Another story for another time. Now, Master Blayves. Let us into the shroud room already.”

The merchant touched the wall and began speaking fast and softly, his forehead resting against it. Toru paced and his tail swished through the air. He wanted to kill Blayves on the spot. If what the merchant had said was true, then there was a lot of blood on his hands.

It was obvious Blayves was stalling for time. It looked like Margrave thought the same. “Today if you please, Master Blayves. Some people still have places to go and plundering to do.”

“You will regret this,” the merchant hissed.

“You’re not on the right end of this dagger. I don’t mind you speaking to me like that.”

But Toru minded. He sensed something under Blayves’ words. A menace. While he thought himself ready for anything, he preferred to know what kind of enemy waited for him on the other side. The latest adventures had taught him as much.

The wall finally moved, exposing a secret door. Right in front of them stood Geruf, the spindly guide from before.

“What is the meaning of this? Master Blayves, the ritual --” He fell silent the moment he saw Margrave and Toru.

“Did you want to see the shroud?” Blayves asked in a haughty voice. “Then step inside. It’s waiting for you.”

Toru didn’t like either the tone the merchant used, or his ugly smile. An ominous feeling nestled inside his gut.

***

Duril cleared his throat and pointed at Claw’s wound. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get that? Varg didn’t hurt you, I hope.”

“Hey, aren’t you my friend?” Varg asked, but his voice had already lost its harshness from before. “But no, as far as I know, I wasn’t the one to cause that.”

Everyone was staring at the bearshifter.

“This?” Claw touched his belly. “I’ve had it for an eternity. Ever since I found myself trapped here.”

“And it never healed?”

Claw shrugged. “It’s been draining me of life for ages. I must have been cut with a magical blade.”

Duril nodded.

“How come you’re not dead?” That was Naella’s anxious voice.

Everyone else appeared to want to know the same thing, as they collectively murmured in agreement.

“It takes a lot to kill a bear,” Claw said proudly.

“Is the cut deep?” Duril asked.

“Potion maker, you’re no use, no matter how well intentioned you may be. What I need is a shaman from my tribe. Only he will know what to do about it.”

“Then our mission is simple. We have to find a way out of here.”

“But what about my Moony?” Naella asked, her voice filled with worry. “And the merchants? Will we see them? And ask them about our men out at sea in the storm?”

“Something tells me that the evil we must defeat will give us all of those answers. Or we will get them once we get rid of it.”

That appeared to give everyone a semblance of assurance. The murmuring voices agreed with Varg.

“You’ve lived here for so long. Can you tell us more about this labyrinth?” Duril asked Claw.

The bearshifter scratched the shaggy mop on his head. “The rats are shy. But the occasional salamander might be a nice change, although a little slimy.”

“Glad to see you still have a sense of humor after being trapped in here for hundreds of years,” Varg said drily.

“I didn’t have one before. But when one has to keep his own company for so long…” Claw shrugged.

“We weren’t asking you what’s there to eat,” Varg reminded him. “We have more important things to handle.”

“You may think so now, puppy. But wandering these hallways on an empty stomach is bound to make you think about what’s there to eat much more than about anything else.”

“Let’s hope that we won’t get to that point,” Varg said curtly. “Now, about this labyrinth, what can you tell us?”

Claw scratched his chin. “It’s never the same. I always mark the walls so that I know where I’ve been before.”

“Mark them? How?”

Claw pressed one hand over his wound. Duril nodded and pursed his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to look at that?”

“Potions for bellyaches won’t work on this, as I told you,” Claw said. “And your guard dog wants to be on the move already.”

“But how can we do that? We’re trapped,” Naella pointed out.

Claw smiled, and Duril couldn’t help but like the way he did that. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his entire face was transformed. To be in such a place for so much time and not lose hope, it was something he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Anyone less than an exceptional shapeshifter would have called it quits before long. Claw was, without a doubt, someone he wanted to get to know much better.

“I have a little bit of magic,” the bearshifter said. “I can make walls move.”

“You can?” one of the men asked in unhidden astonishment.

“Just watch.” Claw walked to the wall that had closed behind him and touched one of the stones.

A dark abyss opened in front of them.

“You hold on to those torches. It’s only getting darker and darker from here onward.”

“Everyone, grab on to the person in front of you,” Varg commanded. “We’re not losing anyone. Claw, walk in front, and we’ll follow. If our past experiences are anything to go by, we’ll meet our next challenge soon enough.”

The bearshifter nodded. He turned toward Varg. “Aren’t you going to grab on to me, puppy? I’ve always wanted a pet.”

Duril hurried to take hold of Varg to prevent him from doing something rash. Toru’s teasing was nothing compared to how Claw liked to joke around. “Let’s save our strength. No more fighting. Please, Varg.”

“Only because it’s you asking,” Varg replied, but not without growling in warning first.

Claw continued to smile, seemingly unaffected by such threats. Duril could only hope that the bear’s teasing wouldn’t get too tough on the wolfshifter. Seeing him baring his fangs reminded him of someone else and his quick temper.

For now, they needed to keep their heads clear.

“Let’s see where the labyrinth takes us, now that we’re so many. Who knows,” Claw said with a small shrug. “Maybe you’re right, and we’ll finally get into a fight that will get us out of here.”

***

Toru stared curiously around. The spindly man had stepped out of the way, allowing them entrance. Margrave was just as interested in examining their surroundings as he was.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” the pirate said. “How about airing the place out once in a while, Master Blayves? I’d take this up with housekeeping if I were you.”

Toru’s nostrils twitched, as the scent of death was growing with each step they took inside. The shroud was in the middle, and a large fire burned to one side. There had to be a chimney built above it, as far as he could tell, to catch all the smoke.

“Now,” Margrave pushed Blayves again, “where are all those precious stones?”

There was a small exchange between the merchant and his servant that wasn’t lost on Toru. Again, he didn’t like that one bit.

“You’ll have to walk closer to the shroud and step underneath it,” Blayves said with a sly smile.

“Lead the way,” Margrave replied. “And tell your servant to keep from doing something untoward. While I may be interested in keeping you alive, I have no trouble with gutting him out like a fish.”

The pirate must have noticed the same exchange that he had. Toru hurried toward the shroud but stopped when something like an invisible shield prevented him from moving forward.

“What are you doing, beast?” Blayves hissed. “The shroud is not some ordinary piece of cloth.”

“It stinks in there,” Toru said. “It’s where you’re killing all those people, isn’t it?” he added accusingly. Margrave could do what he wanted, grab all the treasures he could find and leave, but he was there to rid the world of evil like Blayves. Maybe he needed the fat pirate’s dagger to do so, and he would ask for it at the right moment.

Geruf moved in front, mumbled something, and grabbed the shroud, lifting it from the ground. He gestured with his chin, all the while not taking his eyes off his master. Toru blinked as he thought he could see thin threads stretching between those two, as well as the weird creatures dressed as merchants.

The vision was gone as quickly as it had come, and his eyes cleared. Blayves stepped under the shroud, followed by Margrave. Toru hurried under as well, and behind him, the sobbing choir followed.

He tilted his head back and looked up. There was no end to the shroud, or so it seemed. It had to be a trick, an optical illusion.

Next, his eyes fell on the rows and rows of people laid on the ground. His sensitive nose recoiled at the strong smell. Some of them, without a doubt, were already corpses.

“Don’t you follow the custom of burying your dead?” Margrave waved one hand in front of his nose, making a disgusted face.

“We prefer to burn them,” Blayves said from the tip of his lips.

Toru searched the mass of people for any signs of life. Hadn’t the abhorrent merchant said something about cutting them open while still breathing? Some of them must have been still alive, and if that was so, he had to hurry to their rescue.

If only Duril and Varg were with him, they would know what to do. All he had was the fat pirate, but Margrave seemed unaffected by the display of death under their very eyes. He only cared about treasures, so Toru wasn’t sure if he could rely on him or not.

Not far to the left, he caught a movement. A soft keening sound arose and Toru walked toward its source. The shape on the ground was small, much smaller when compared to the rest of the people lying on the ground.

“That’s Moony!” he shouted when he was close enough to see. “What are you doing to him?”

“What I’m doing to everyone,” Blayves said in a harsh voice, and then he started laughing.

All his fur stood on its end up and down his spine at the sound of that cavernous laughter. As if the merchant’s voice had the power to invoke an evil spirit, thin threads shot out suddenly from the cloth walls around them and entwined his body.

As he struggled to get away, he saw Margrave’s hand, the one that held the dagger, being ensnared and pulled upward. As large as the pirate was, in the blink of an eye, he was suspended in the air, held by those threads that were no illusion and no trick of the eyes.

***

Duril noticed Claw holding on to the wall and drawing a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My belly must have been a stranger to good food for so long that it must be acting up.”

The healer had strong doubts that was the case. He said nothing, but pulled at Varg’s elbow. They exchanged a curt look, filled with understanding.

Claw knelt on the floor and exhaled. “Come on, you old sack of bones,” he told himself, “you’ve made it this far, haven’t you?”

Duril broke out of the line and knelt next to him. “You’re in pain,” he said gently.

Claw huffed. “Pain is nothing for a shifter. Even your guard dog must know that.”

“Since it’s a bellyache,” Duril said, trying to make light of the situation, “maybe my potions can help you.” It was a thin lie, but he hoped the bearshifter would allow him to look at his wound. Even if his chances of being able to help him were slim, he wouldn’t give up, just because he believed that negative thought might be true.

“You must be really bent on poking around in this old wound. Funny guy, isn’t he?” Claw asked Varg, over Duril’s shoulder.

“He might keep saying he’s just a potion maker, but he’s really a healer in his own right,” Varg replied.

“His touch is gentle,” Claw observed.

Duril pushed away the leather armor and took a closer look. The skin and tissue had jagged ends along the cut, and while the wound oozed, it wasn’t completely open, either. He searched inside his bag for something to clean it, but as he did so, his eyes continued to be drawn to the ugly wound.

There was something there. Duril grabbed a small pincer from his supplies and used it to pull the foreign object from the edge of Claw’s wound.

Underneath his leather armor, Claw wore nothing else. So Duril held the pincer and stared at the small piece of white thread he had just caught, in utter puzzlement.

“What is it?” Varg asked.

Duril had no answer, so he used the pincer to pull another thread from Claw’s wound.

“Hey,” the bearshifter said through closed teeth, “that hurts, potion maker.”

“He’s barely touching you. Aren’t you a big baby now?” Varg scolded him.

Claw didn’t reply, but instead growled and plopped down on one side when Duril pulled another, much longer thread from inside the wound.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you,” Duril said gently. “But there are threads inside your wound, and I must clean it properly.”

Varg no longer seemed in the mood to chide Claw. The bearshifter was on the ground, sweating profusely. Even the city dwellers had gathered around him. Naella pulled a white handkerchief from her apron and began wiping Claw’s forehead. “He doesn’t look so good,” she commented and threw Duril a worried look.

“Maybe I should stop,” Duril said. “I’ll clean the wound as it is.”

He was surprised by a tight grip on his arm. Claw was holding him. “No. Get that thing out of me.”

“There are just a number of small threads. They shouldn’t be there… could they be from an old shirt you wore?”

“I didn’t wear no damned shirt,” Claw said with a hiss as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Just… reach inside. There’s something there.”

Duril didn’t understand at first. But as the bearshifter moved his hand to reach inside his wound, his eyes grew wide. “Indeed,” he whispered, as his fingers curled around something smooth and hard. “Ah, I can’t…” he struggled as his hand slipped over that even surface.

“Let me,” Varg intervened.

“Don’t let him,” Claw pleaded.

“But I can’t do it,” Duril explained. “Don’t worry. Varg will help you.”

He moved away to allow Varg to take his place.

“Puppy, if you kill me, I’m coming for you from beyond the grave,” Claw half-threatened, half-joked.

“I’ll take my chances, flea bag,” Varg replied in kind.

The others murmured among themselves, just as disturbed by what was going on.

Varg grunted and cursed under his breath, but finally, he pulled out his hand and held it high.

Everyone gasped in astonishment. Duril couldn’t quite believe his eyes, either. “Is that a… pearl?”

Even bloodied, the pearl appeared as if it was illuminated from within. It threw a gentle light around, enough for them to make out shapes and the path ahead.

“Congratulations. It’s a baby… pearl,” Varg said, clearing his throat and not quite keeping in a small laugh.

“Stop joking, puppy.”

“Is it any better?” Duril asked.

Claw pushed himself up. “As a matter of fact, it is. That thing must have been hanging around in my belly for some time.”

“Was your mother a clam from the sea?” Varg joked.

Claw responded with a growl, but not an ill-natured one. “I don’t have any idea about how it got inside me.”

The city dwellers were talking among themselves in hushed voices. Varg turned toward them, while still holding the pearl. “What is it? You must have seen plenty of pearls.”

“Not one so large,” one of the men said. “We were just saying that while the merchants take care of all the trade, we’re never allowed to be a part of it. Forgive us for being in awe over the sight of such a beautiful thing.”

“But how do the pearls get into the merchants’ hands? Aren’t they coming from the sea?” Varg asked. “I thought people around here said that.”

“We don’t really know where they come from or how exactly. We’re simple folks,” Naella said in an apologetic tone. “But now we find it strange. We thought that anyone finding pearls or other precious stones when out at sea was sworn to secrecy.”

“A place with dark secrets.” Varg shook his head.

He held the pearl up, and then Duril noticed something on the walls. The stones were here and there shining with an iridescent reddish color. He walked closer and touched it. Even before bringing his hand to his nose, he knew what it was. Blood.

“I’ve been around here before,” Claw confirmed. “So I can tell you there’s no way out around here.”

“We’ll continue to walk,” Varg said. “Do I need to carry you?”

“I could test that,” Claw replied and laughed. “But I can hold my own just fine, now that the damned thing is out of my belly. It must have kept me down.”

Duril was still standing in front of the wall, checking the markings left by Claw in his own blood. “This is odd.” He picked another small piece of white thread from the wall.

“What is?” Claw asked.

“I find the same pieces of threads glued to these markings, as the ones I tried to pull out of your wound.”

“So? I must have put them there when I marked the walls.”

Duril turned toward the group, holding the thread he had just picked up. “Don’t you notice something strange about this?”

“It’s white,” Naella said.

“And?” Claw asked.

“Shouldn’t it be red from all the blood pouring from your wound?”

Duril nodded. “Naella is right.”

Everyone murmured in agreement.

Duril turned toward the wall once more. “I think we should follow the thread. I see pieces and bits of it everywhere.”

“Since it’s odd like that, it has to be imbued with magic,” Claw said. “It might not lead us out of here, but into a trap.”

“To find a way out, we must defeat the evil living here. It’s what the torch shared with Duril,” Varg pointed out. “Get ready for battle, flea bag.”

“I’m as ready as you are, puppy.”

Duril shook his head and hid a smile. Teasing aside, he could tell that the two shapeshifters were destined to become friends. Nothing forged a solid bond like a shared adventure.

***

While Margrave began cursing like a sailor, Toru fought the threads trying to wrap around his legs. He jumped over corpses and grabbed little Moony by his shirt. The boy cried out in distress.

“You can’t outrun the shroud, beast,” Blayves taunted him.

Toru wished he could give the merchant a scathing retort, but he couldn’t let go of the little boy. Instead, he began running in circles, moving behind Blayves, and making the threads follow him.

“A kitty being chased by a ball of yarn. That’s bloody something you don’t see every day!” Margrave shouted in excitement. “Just keep going like that, Toru! Choke the scoundrels with their own damned shroud!”

Toru wished the fat pirate would have kept his big mouth shut, but there was no escape for Blayves and his acolytes now. The threads following him wrapped around themselves, turning into a thick rope.

First, Toru went around the group of dead-alive merchants and sent them to the floor. They quickly turned into a quivering mass. Then, he jumped and made a quick circle around Blayves. The rope went around his waist, and soon he was suspended in the air, just like Margrave.

“Senseless creature,” Blayves bellowed.

Toru lost sight of where he was heading for a moment. Then he slammed into Geruf who tried to bar his path. The servant opened his mouth, and several threads shot out, trying to catch him.

He had no time to dodge that attack, so he slashed through the air with his paw, claws extended. To his surprise, they went right through the threads, and the next thing he knew was that both Margrave and Blayves fell to the ground as the threads uncoiled from their bodies, too.

The pirate wasted no time in wondering what might have happened. In a wink, Margrave was all over Blayves, holding his dagger at the merchant’s throat. “Trying to teach this dog old tricks, Master Blayves? Surrender all your treasure or you won’t get out of here alive!”

From under Toru’s paws, Geruf shouted, “Don’t hurt him! I’ll give you everything!”

“See? That’s the spirit.” Margrave removed his dagger from Blayves’ throat. “Now, don’t keep me waiting. It’s not polite to do that to guests.”

“Your beast is holding me down,” Geruf pointed out.

“Ah, I see. Toru, if you would be so kind,” Margrave said.

He had no intention of doing that. Instead, he increased the pressure of his paws, sensing with satisfaction the man’s ribcage slowly giving in. Geruf gasped and thrashed.

“You forged a bad alliance with that beast,” Blayves hissed.

“He and I have different goals, it’s true,” Margrave admitted. “Toru, release the poor bastard. I promise you I’ll hold them both over that fire and have them admit to all their sins.”

Toru was still unconvinced and let the pirate know it with a throaty growl.

The pirate moved and took Moony from Toru’s hold, with a gentleness that seemed as far removed from his nature as anything could be. “Aren’t you a big lad?” He bounced the boy on his arm and made faces at him.

Moony had cried for his momma and being handled roughly by Toru a lot, but now, he watched the pirate with daring eyes.

“They’ll pay for everything,” the pirate promised.

Toru finally let go of Geruf and turned into his human shape. He didn’t want to entrust Margrave with the little boy. He grabbed Moony and placed him over his shoulders; the boy grabbed his hair with both hands and held on tight.

“Take your treasure,” he told Margrave. “But I’m saving all these people.”

“As much as they can be saved,” the pirate commented, while looking around. “Some of them look beyond saving. If not all.”

Toru knew that his nose wasn’t fooling him. But just as Moony was still alive, some of those people could be, as well.

“Well,” Margrave turned toward Geruf all business-like. “I let your master have another breath, although undeserved. Where is the treasure you’re speaking of?”

“You’ll have to collect it yourself. From all these people,” Geruf said while pointing at the corpses on the ground.

Margrave let out a sonorous laugh. “You mean that I should put my hands inside their bellies and fish out the pearls inside? I thought your master was just trying to get in a little joke. No?”

Geruf shook his head and threw the pirate a grave look, as if the mere idea that Blayves was capable of telling a joke, albeit a macabre one, was beyond the pale.

“No, I won’t do that,” Margrave added. “You must have a stash somewhere. These people will be buried, according to old customs, not whatever barbaric ritual you had in place here.”

“We do not --” Geruf was silenced by the pointy dagger the pirate placed swiftly under his chin. “Very well. Follow me.”

Toru was about to walk behind Blayves, Geruf, and Margrave, but he felt reluctant to leave those people behind. “Wait,” he called out. “We must check for anyone still alive.”

Margrave stopped. “Should I do it?”

Toru nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes on these two.”

Silence stretched, only the shuffling of the pirate’s feet among the dead breaking it. All this time, Toru watched Blayves and Geruf. Now he could see it, the exaggerated pallor of their faces, the unpleasant smell coming off them. How couldn’t he tell before, when seeing Geruf, that the man was dead?

“I’m sorry, Toru,” Margrave came by his side. “None save this little boy is still alive.”

“How could you do this?” Toru asked, clenching his hands into fists. On his shoulders, Moony tightened his grip on his hair. The boy had to understand nothing, given his age, but he seemed to be filled by the same rage as he was. “They were all people! Your people!”

Margrave placed one hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but are they anymore?” He pointed at Geruf and Blayves, who watched them in return with placid eyes.

“They were once,” Toru said through his teeth. “This isn’t over,” he promised. “You’ll be judged by your people if I can hold back long enough for you ro be brought to justice. If not, you’ll die.”

Margrave didn’t contradict him. Toru still couldn’t wrap his head around what motivation the pirate could have to be on his side, although so far he had seemed to follow his own plans. The only reason the undead merchants and their servant were still alive was that he stood in the way of Toru’s meting out some well-deserved justice.

As soon as the fat pirate got his treasure, Toru knew what to do. He was an honorable shifter and couldn’t deny that Margrave had helped him when Blayves had intended to pull the veil of ignorance over his eyes. For that reason, and that reason alone, he allowed the pirate to do as he wanted.

***

“Do you feel that?” Naella asked in a soft whisper. “I… think it’s a bit of a draft.”

“Yes,” Duril confirmed. “That’s a good sign. It means we’re getting closer to somewhere that could lead us toward the exit.”

Naella seemed restless. “But if we leave here… doesn’t that mean that we won’t get to see the merchants? That I won’t get to ask about my Moony?”

Duril understood her distress. The other city dwellers only cared about getting out of the labyrinth for now. He didn’t question Claw’s and Varg’s choice, but finding a way to escape that place seemed to be the only thing they could do for now. After that, they would let the city dwellers go, and then they would most likely return in search of Toru and Moony.

“Our friend is somewhere in here, too,” he told Naella. “We’ll just get you, people out of here and then Varg and I --”

“And I,” Claw interrupted him. “I want to find those merchants and ask for my hundreds of years back.”

“And I’m not leaving without Moony,” Naella said stubbornly. “I can’t fight like you, but if you take me along, I won’t ever forget. That’s a mother’s promise.”

Duril nodded. “Let’s see where the draft comes from first. Our quest here is far from over.”

***

They stepped out from under the shroud and into the room. A sudden wave of apprehension sent a cold chill down his back right at that moment. Toru turned only to see the shroud twisting and spinning, creating a whirlwind around it.

“You people never get tired of this carnival magic, do you?” Margrave asked.

His voice was swallowed by a powerful gust of wind. Toru tensed and shifted, hoping that Moony would still hold on to him even as he turned into his tiger.

“I’m tired of you getting your way,” he said through his teeth and jumped into the whirlwind, all of his claws unsheathed.

What was that shroud anyway? Nothing but a piece of cloth. His claws were sharp enough.

***

“I think I’m hearing the wind outside,” one of the men said and rushed forward.

“Wait,” Duril said, sensing, a bit too late, that the little draft they thought they could feel was nothing of the kind.

Before them, the wall shook, and stones came undone and tumbled from it, flying in all directions. Duril barely had the time to grab Naella and pull her to the ground along with him. Varg and Claw had instinctively lowered themselves to the ground, too, but the man that had rushed to the front was hit by a flying rock.

Duril reached for him, but the sight of his smashed head made him close his eyes for a moment.

The other men began shouting in fear and ran back the way they had come from.

“What are you doing? Come back here,” Varg shouted after them.

“Let them go. We’ll search for them later,” Claw said. “Maybe the woman should stay behind, too.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” Naella said. “Moony’s close. I can feel him.”

“Look,” Duril said and pointed into the gap in the wall in front of them. “That’s Toru!”

Who, at that very moment, seemed to be engaged in a strange battle with a giant shroud, while a little boy was on his back, holding onto his fur for dear life.

TBC

Next chapter