Mary sits on a random log, letting the meat cook over the flames.

  'Beatrice has been gone for quite a while,' the older woman thinks, silently watching the fire. 'She usually doesn’t disappear for this long without a word.'

  Shaking her head, she lets out a sigh and runs a hand through her hair.

  '…I think I was too hard on her,' Mary admits with a quiet internal sigh. 'I still don’t like how she brushes off her injuries like that… but I was in the wrong too.'

  Placing her head in her hands, she momentarily glances to the side.

  Hazel sits beside her, nursing the injury on her finger.

  “How’s your finger?” Mary asks, glancing down at the girl. “It’s not hurting anymore, is it?”

  Hazel nods and gives her a thumbs-up.

  "It's still feels a bit weird when I try to move it," the girl mumbles, beginning to kick her legs. "And itchy."

  "Yeah, it'll be like that for a while," Mary says with a small chuckle. "You should’ve seen Beatrice."

  Slowly turning away from the girl, the older woman rests her chin in her hands.

  "Ah, I remember this one time Beatrice accidentally chopped her whole hand off," Mary snickers. "I thought I was having a stroke with how much blood came out."

  A small smile spreads across her face as she glances off to the side. "You know what she did? Just casually swung that severed hand around. That limb didn’t work right for ages. Good riddance, I say! Perfect karma for scaring me half to death!"

  As the words left her mouth, the smile slowly faltered on the woman’s face. Memories of how she and Beatrice had been avoiding each other for the past couple of days surfaced to the forefront.

  'I really am failing her,' the older woman thought.

  The image of a young boy, around six years old, suddenly popped into her head.

  "You and Beatrice seem close," Hazel said quietly. "You two must really care about each other."

  Mary simply shrugged at the girl’s statement.

  "Sometimes, I wonder if that’s true," the girl said, staring at the ground. "I feel like I’m failing her."

  "But you aren’t!" Hazel quickly interjected. "You’re like the nicest person I know!"

  Turning toward the little girl, Mary gave her a weak smile. "That’s really nice to hear."

  "No, I’m serious!" Hazel reiterated, placing both hands on the older woman’s lap. "You’re really the nicest person I know!"

  Letting out a small huff, the girl crossed her arms. "You’re like a very huggable grandmother. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a parent."

  The moment Mary heard the word parent, the older woman quickly glanced off to the side.

  Her eyes grew slightly bleary as her lips began to tremble. A memory tugged itself free from the pile she had long buried deep in her mind.

  A dark-skinned boy, around six years old, peers up at her with teary eyes. His two grubby hands cling tightly to her arms.

  "Can’t you stay?" he asks, his fingers digging into her skin. "Please?"

  Quickly pushing the memory down, Mary briefly closes her eyes and gives her head a vigorous shake.

  Letting out a loud sigh, she roughly drags a hand across her forehead.

  "Yeah, well," Mary begins, slowly opening her eyes to slits. "You don’t know much about me."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  From the corner of her eye, she sees Hazel watching her with a frown.

  If Mary ignored the girl’s hair, the tentacles sprouting from her back, and the noticeably lighter skin tone, she could almost replace Hazel with the image of the boy.

  Frowning, the woman slowly narrows her eyes at the thought.

  'What am I thinking?' Mary wonders with horror.

  “So,” she says, quickly lowering her hands to her lap, “what about you, Hazel? What were your parents like?”

  As Mary turns to the girl, she watches the way Hazel seems to deflate.

  The girl’s shoulders slump, her head drooping slightly.

  'Ah!' Mary thinks. 'Didn’t she mention something about her parents being—'

  Mentally slapping herself, Mary quickly pulls the girl into a hug.

  “Ah, I’m sorry,” she says as Hazel lets herself be embraced. “I know it’s a sensitive subject—”

  “No, no,” Hazel says quickly, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I’m alright.”

  The Essevian girl shifts in her seat before slowly glancing up, her lips trembling.

  “I’m fine,” she repeats. “I’ve gotten over it anyway.”

  Mary stays silent, simply letting Hazel sit and fidget.

  “I don’t remember my mother much,” the girl says, fidgeting with her hands. “The only thing I remember is her voice—maybe the feel of her hair sometimes.”

  Hazel pauses, her fingers twiddling with her own hair. “...I don’t remember much about my dad.”

  Feeling her mouth start to dry, Mary gives a slow nod.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re with us now,” she says, offering the girl a weak smile. “I’d like it if you stuck around with me and Beatrice a bit more.”

  Hazel gives her a small smile in return. “Yeah… that would be nice. I’d like that.”

  Before Mary can say anything else, she catches a blur of motion in the corner of her eye.

  She stands up quickly, watching as the people around her begin to scramble.

  Some hunters are already drawing their weapons—those who weren’t already preparing them.

  A few porters are hiding or taking cover behind a tree.

  “Monster! Monster!” someone cries out. “There’s a monster out there!!”

  Just as the words ring out, Mary spots the shadowy figure of a giant monster covered in a million beady eyes.

  Staring, stunned, at the creature, Mary blinks.

  'How is this possible?' she thinks. 'Wasn’t there some kind of barrier set up? How did something this big sneak up on us? No—how did it even find us in the first place?'

  Before she can wonder further, the monster’s swipe at some hunters snaps Mary out of her shock.

  Quickly turning away from the monster, she narrows her eyes.

  'I need to focus on getting out of here first,' she thinks. 'I’ll worry about what’s going on once Hazel and I are safe.'

  Scanning the chaos around her, Mary quickly pulls Hazel to her feet.

  “We need to go!” she says, part of her mind already wondering where Beatrice is amid the chaos.

  Without waiting for an answer from the little girl, Mary quickly pulls her along.

  Through the chaos, the woman sees several hunters already charging at the monster, ready to engage.

  “Mary!” Hazel calls from behind her. “Wait up!”

  Barely registering the girl’s words, Mary can only dry heave heavily as she continues to run.

  As the woman begins to slow down, waiting for the girl to catch up, she catches something flashing from the corner of her eye.

  Before Mary can say anything or even react, a black tendril curls around Hazel’s body.

  Hazel lets out a shriek as the mysterious tendril begins to drag her away.

  Quickly digging her heels into the ground, Mary tightly clasps both of the girl’s wrists. Hazel’s fingers dig deep into the older woman’s skin, drawing blood.

  The woman pulls hard, ignoring the blood dripping onto the floor. The harder she pulls on Hazel, the harder the mysterious tendril pulls the girl back.

  With a harsh yank from the tendril, Hazel’s arms almost slip free from Mary’s grasp.

  Biting down so hard on the inside of her cheek that she tastes copper, Mary continues to pull on Hazel. Step by step, inch by inch, the woman gradually drags the girl back.

  But as she fights against the mysterious tendril, Mary feels her grip on Hazel’s wrist begin to slip.

  Sweat gathers in her palm, slicking the skin and making it harder to hold on.

  "Mary?" Hazel gasps, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  "Hold on!" Mary shouts, digging her fingers deeper into the girl’s wrist. "Just stay calm, okay?! I’m not going to leave you!"

  Another harsh yank nearly sends Mary stumbling forward. She quickly digs her heels into the ground again and resumes pulling with all her strength.

  "Just stay calm!" she yells, her voice cracking over the sound of her racing corebeat. "I’ll get you out of this! You’re going to be alright! I’m not leaving you! Not ever again!"

  As the last word leaves Mary’s mouth, the mysterious tendril suddenly yanks Hazel with brutal force.

  Mary accidentally lets go of Hazel under the strength of the pull.

  Her core in her throat, everything seems to slow as Mary watches Hazel’s wide eyes staring back at her while she’s dragged away.

  The moment shatters as the girl is yanked toward the cluster of trees.

  “No!” Mary shouts, chasing after her.

  Before Mary can reach Hazel, several hands grab onto her.

  “No!” Mary struggles, fighting against their grip. “Let me go! I need to get to her!”

  “Calm down!” a voice says—one Mary immediately recognizes as one of the hunters. “You can’t just charge after her! It’s too dangerous!”

  Mary punches upward, her knuckles meeting a satisfying crunch. One grip loosens as the man curses.

  Seizing the chance, Mary makes a desperate dash forward.

  But as she nears the trees again, a hand clutches her ankle, sending her sprawling to the ground.

  Even as she falls, Mary claws at the dirt, desperate to propel herself forward.

  “Hazel!” she calls out, struggling against the hunters. “Hazel! I’m coming!”

  Her voice grows hoarse as she continues shouting, but the only response from the shadows within the trees is silence.