A black foot eased down onto the jungle floor.
Stones, dead branches, and rotting leaves covered the ground. The foot pressed lower, the toes spreading a little, feeling for the quietest place to land.
A soft crunch.
A thumb-thick spike hidden under the leaves drove straight into the center of the foot.
No recoil.
No pause.
The foot kept moving, grinding the spike until it snapped.
Wood splinters pushed deep into the flesh. Still, no blood came.
The thing walked on.
Its steps were stiff but steady, each one placed light.
The rhythm felt trained, measured, as if it knew what sound could cost.
Ten paces away, a tall, narrow shadow took shape.
The man said nothing. He only lifted a hand and pointed toward the slope, fingers curling in a small, deliberate gesture: Take them.
The creature gave a small nod. Its pale eyes locked on the boy and girl sitting at the crest.
It pulled its ragged leather armor tighter. The arm beneath was blackened, the old bronze bracer stained with dark rust.
But the curved blade in its hand still caught the faintest light—sharp and hungry.
At the top of the slope, the half-dead trunk of an old tree lay on its side.
The bark was rough and split open in long cracks. Two younsters, fourteen or fifteen, sat on it.
The sunset light warmed the girl's face, turning it red. She looked healthy, full of life.
Her eyes were bright, and her legs swung back and forth when she talked without thinking.
"You were a mess chasing that rabbit today."
Chun tilted her head and smiled at the boy beside her.
Wei was a head taller than she was. His skin was sun-darkened, and his shoulders were broader than boys his age.
He let out a snort, pretending to be offended. "I was not. I'm just tired these days."
"Liar. You fall every time."
"That's because I don't like blood. But I still caught it alive."
"That rabbit freaked out and ran straight into a stump."
Wei's face warmed. He looked away. His voice dropped. "…Anyway, I'll roast it for you tonight. My treat. Good enough?"
Chun was quiet for a moment. Then a small smile pulled at her mouth. "All right."
Deep in the jungle—
Crack.
A thin dry branch broke under a foot.
The sound was small, but in the quiet woods it carried far, sharp and clear.
The smile vanished from Wei's face.
He snapped his head around, staring at the forest behind them.
Darkness gathered in the trees.
It swallowed the last of the light.
Shadows stacked like crooked black walls.
They leaned on each other as night came.
He could see nothing.
"What is it?" Chun sensed the change in him.
"Don't talk," Wei said. His voice had gone flat and tight.
"Something's out there. Maybe a beast."
His hand went to the hunting knife at his belt. The handle was cold.
The feel of it steadied him a little.
Chun said nothing. She stood and grabbed the basket of firewood. She held it in front of her like a weak shield.
They held their breath.
The wind pushed through the leaves with a soft rustle.
A night bird called once in the distance, sharp and short, and then the woods fell quiet again.
Nothing came out.
The silence stretched.
It stretched so long that Wei began to wonder if he had imagined everything.
"Maybe you heard wrong," Chun whispered. Her voice was barely there.
Wei frowned and looked at the dark trees again. "…Maybe. Maybe the beast saw me and ran."
Chun let out a soft laugh. "Wei, you're good at bragging."
His ears warmed. He slid the knife back into its sheath and tried to look calm.
"Come on. It's getting dark."
They started down the narrow path they had beaten through the woods.
The path wasn't long, but it twisted and narrowed between walls of thick brush.
The village was on the other side.
There were fewer than ten families there.
All of them refugees.
When the city fell, most people died. The rest became slaves to the death-walkers. Only a few had reached the forest and hidden long enough to call it a last refuge.
Halfway down the trail, Chun slowed. She wrinkled her nose.
"Wei…"
She breathed in again. "Do you smell that?"
Wei stopped too.
The smell seeped through the air without a sound.
Not wood.
Not earth.
Not food.
It was strong, sharp, wrong in a way the body recognized before the mind did.
Like rancid grease mixed with wet ash.
Like something half-burned that shouldn't have been burned at all.
—Like something that had once been alive.
Wei's steps shortened. His hand rose a little on its own. Chun didn't see it and bumped softly into his back.
"Why did you stop?" she whispered. Her breath came fast. Chun scared more easily than Wei, though she tried to hide it most days.
Wei didn't answer.
He sniffed the air again.
Smoke.
Ash.
And a faint sour rot beneath it.
Chun gripped his sleeve. Her voice trembled. "The wind… it's blowing from the village."
Wei's stomach dropped hard.
"I know."
They walked on.
They hadn't reached the edge of the woods before the smoke hit their noses.
It stung.
Their eyes burned. They watered on their own.
The light ahead changed—
turned strange.
It wasn't the bright flicker of fire.
A broken red shimmer caught here and there.
It tore the tree shadows into jagged shapes.
"Maybe it's just… Old Goat's shed again," Chun said. Her voice was slow, like she was trying to convince herself.
Wei heard the hollowness in it.
"Stay behind me," he said.
The woods had gone strangely silent.
No birds.
No insects.
Not even the small sounds of life near the village gate.
Only smoke.
They reached the edge of the trees and stopped.
The village gate stood open.
The wooden door hung crooked on one hinge.
The fence beside it was torn by claws.
Ripped. Split. Sagging on the ground.
Black smoke rolled between the houses.
Ash drifted down.
It settled on the ground, on the roofs, on the dying patches of fire.
Chun drew a shaking breath. "Wei… something's wrong. Really wrong."
Wei didn't answer.
His heart hammered so hard it hurt.
It was too quiet.
A place that had burned should have been loud—shouting, movement, something.
But there was nothing.
The quiet felt unnatural.
He forced himself to take a step forward.
He didn't get a second.
Chun grabbed his wrist. Hard.
Wei turned and saw her eyes wide and fixed.
"What… what is that?"
Wei followed her gaze.
By the well, in the shadow, stood a horse.
"How can there be a horse here?"
Wei pulled Chun down beside him. They crouched low and moved along the edge of the trees, inching closer to the village.
The closer they got, the clearer it became.
It was a horse.
And it wasn't.
The warhorse's flesh was gone, stripped long ago.
Its white ribs showed in the dark, each one sharp as a finger bone.
Its head hung low as it tore at a fresh body on the ground. The chewing sounded loud in the night.
Blood dripped from its jaw. Slow drops fell, gathering into a dark pool beneath it.
The smell of death settled over everything.
Wei held his breath.
He knew—
They were too late.