The creature lunged with a speed that shattered the air, its limbs unfolding like spears of bone, its mouth yawning wide enough to swallow Ashten's head whole. Instinct screamed at him to swing, to attack, to thrash wildly — but something deeper, something sharper, cut through the panic.
He moved.
Not backward.Not away.But sideways — slipping past the creature's initial charge, mud splashing beneath him as he ducked beneath its outstretched claws. The wind of its movement brushed his ear, cold as a grave. Ashten's feet slid, nearly giving out, but he caught himself and pivoted, placing his body between the monster and the trapped girl.
The creature skidded across the ravine floor, limbs clawing through the wet earth as it twisted to face him. Rain slicked its skin, making it shine like raw flesh. The girl whimpered behind him, her breath shallow, her terror thick enough to taste.
Ashten raised the branch like a shield — not because it would stop the creature, but because his hands needed something to hold. His heart thundered, his muscles trembled, but he didn't back away. He stood firm, bare feet sinking into the soaked moss, the storm raging around him like a battlefield hymn.
The creature cocked its head, sensing the shift.
Not prey fleeing.Not meat cowering.A barrier.A challenger.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the ravine in stark white. In that flash, Ashten saw more than the creature — he saw himself reflected in the dark slit of its mouth, not as a child, but as someone who refused to move aside.
The creature screeched — a sound like ripping metal — and charged again, claws tearing furrows in the ground. Ashten stepped forward, forcing it to adjust, forcing its strike wide. The monster's talons slammed into the earth where the girl had been exposed moments before, inches from her throat.
She gasped.It roared.And Ashten swung.
The branch cracked against the creature's jaw with a surprisingly loud snap. It wasn't enough to injure it — not truly — but it was enough to make it reel back, more surprised than harmed. Ashten's arms shook from the impact, pain lancing through his wrists, but he held on.
Not prey.Not victim.
He shifted his stance, just like he'd seen men do when arguing in the street, feet braced, shoulders squared. The rain poured down his face, mixing with the blood from his bitten lip. His breath steadied. His heartbeat slowed into something controlled, deliberate.
Behind him, the girl whispered:
"Don't leave me…"
The words struck him harder than the monster could.
He wouldn't.He couldn't.He knew what it felt like to be left.
The creature snarled, regrouping, its limbs folding back into a crouch. The ravine felt suddenly smaller, the shadows thicker, the air charged with the promise of violence. Ashten tightened his grip on the branch, ready for the next attack—
Until the earth beneath them trembled.
A sound rose from deeper in the forest — not a scream, not a roar, but a chorus. Dozens of wet, rattling breaths. Dozens of claws scraping bark. Dozens of limbs shifting in the dark.
More were coming.
The creature sensed it too. Its head twitched toward the sound, then back to Ashten, torn between hunger and fear. For the first time, he saw uncertainty in its movements.
Ashten looked at the girl, pale and shaking beneath the log. He couldn't fight a dozen of them. He couldn't fight one forever. They had seconds — maybe less — before the others arrived.
He swallowed.
He had to choose again.