Vanessa desperately fought for her life.
It all started with the airship explosion.
Then the fall from a great height.
Monsters.
More monsters.
Plants grabbing her limbs at the worst possible moments.
And another fall.
That's how she ended up here. In a narrow stone crevice of an unknown cave.
The wolves couldn't reach her in her hiding spot. But they didn't give up and continued attacking the wounded girl's refuge with furious persistence.
Vanessa had long since run out of holy power. She had spent every last drop healing herself, yet right now she looked like a torn rag.
In the place where she had crashed, mana didn't work. Vanessa couldn't protect herself.
The poor girl had suffered so many injuries, healed herself so many times. And now she had nothing left.
When Vanessa breathed, a bubble formed at the tip of her nose. Blood or snot—she couldn't tell anymore.
Something dangled from her chin, irritating her nerves.
It seemed to be a torn piece of her own cheek.
Vanessa's heartbeat was slowing. She no longer felt pain.
The despairing girl no longer tried to resist the sleep overtaking her.
Dying wasn't scary.
What was scary was fighting and enduring the torment.
***
After the slope collapsed, the prince didn't regain consciousness.
Thin streams of blood lazily trickled from his mouth.
Elena found no visible external injuries. At least none serious.
The prince's collarbone protruded unnaturally under the skin.
That was unlikely to be the cause of the hemoptysis, the huntress concluded.
In short, the girl (with far more obvious injuries) was forced to drag the guy on her back. A guy, by the way, who was two heads taller than her.
She moved uncertainly over uneven mounds of earth and stones.
The girl followed a narrow stream of water.
Her knees buckled, her shoulder and entire body pulled toward the ground.
Her legs felt heavy, barely lifting.
She wanted to sleep. To close her eyes and rest.
The prince's body rubbed against skin already torn by beaks.
It jolted her mind awake.
Light returned to her eyes.
Something like shock therapy. Very timely.
Losing consciousness was far too dangerous.
Unacceptably risky.
Sometimes Elena's hand felt for the pouch where the remaining potion was kept.
The temptation was strong. To heal herself. To get rid of that unpleasant sensation that sent shivers across her skin.
She held on. That vial was needed for a much more serious situation.
In games, you can't trust generous loot drops. All resources must be conserved.
Elena planned to use this chance to save an NPC.
The stream led them downward. A little after sunset, a small pond appeared.
She and the prince got lucky: aside from terrain inconvenient for movement, there were no problems.
She laid the injured companion on the rocks.
Not far from the pond, a grotto was visible.
Was it an opportunity or, on the contrary, a danger?
Elena took the prince's sword and began approaching the entrance.
On the black soil were footprints.
Human. And wolves?
Sounds came from inside. She listened.
It seemed the beasts were scratching at the stones.
The girl surveyed the area, then took the dried meat from the pouch.
She soaked it in water to make it smell stronger, kneaded it a little in her hands, and scattered some pieces in different directions away from the grotto.
She threw part of it inside the cave.
Then she herself waded into the water up to her waist.
A commotion arose at the entrance.
A couple of moments later, three wolves appeared not far from Elena.
The huntress gripped the sword tightly.
The dogs scattered, each rushing toward its own piece of food.
The animal in front of her looked the girl in the eyes but didn't attack.
A mistake.
Elena shifted her grip on the sword and calmly drew the dagger.
The wolf didn't care; it was busy with its meal.
She didn't stand on ceremony. A throw—and the blade flew like an arrow straight into the beast's neck.
A fountain of bodily fluid, an incoherent gurgle, and the carcass hit the ground.
Of course, the fallen one's companions noticed the incident.
They charged at her simultaneously.
Elena was waiting for them.
In situations like this, the most important thing is to choose the right moment.
One of the predators made its final lunge toward her.
From above downward. Or a full-body twist and horizontal slash.
That's exactly the easier way to strike when you're not confident in your strength.
She lowered the sword slightly diagonally. The blade sank deep through the neck.
The wolf died.
One remained.
Most of Elena's body was now in the water.
The last attacker leaped with its jaws wide open.
The huntress held the sword ready to meet it.
If there's a chance to use the enemy's weight against it—take it.
A dull sound. Steel easily split the animal's belly.
She didn't have the strength to stay on her feet.
Together with the enemy's corpse, she plunged into the water.
After thrashing in the murky sludge, Elena surfaced from under the predator's remains.
She pulled the bloodied sword from the corpse and walked unsteadily back to the shore.
Their group had set out from the shelter at dawn. Now it was dark and cold enough. Night was approaching.
Her teeth began to chatter. Elena caught her breath, lifted the prince, and headed toward the grotto entrance.
The shuffling sound of her steps echoed off the stone walls.
She wasn't afraid that some monster was hiding in the darkness of the cavity, waiting.
Such creatures understand very well when weak prey is before them. There's no point in hiding.
After the narrow tunnel, the space widened. Elena carefully inspected the refuge.
It was small—probably wouldn't fit more than six people.
The good news was the barely noticeable draft.
In some places there were large cracks, possibly even passages for animals. They were also the reason for the influx of fresh air.
The girl didn't rush to stick her hands into them.
Absolute darkness surrounded her.
***
Elena tied the bedding materials together with the vines she had cut earlier.
She gathered a lot of moss, dry grass, branches, splinters, and bark.
The bundle was large but not very heavy.
The girl tied the waterskin to her waist; the improvised backpack sat on her back.
Elena picked up one of the prepared torches, lit it, and quickly extinguished the flame in the fire pit.
Using a scoop made of birch bark, she collected the glowing embers.
With the quickly burning torch in hand, tense all over, the huntress returned to the refuge.
The dagger was ready in Elena's grip. She moved quickly but cautiously.
Before entering the grotto, she surveyed the surroundings, listening to every sound, then slowly stepped inside.
Under the light, tracks became visible on the stony floor. They formed small puddles of blood.
Elena illuminated the cavity where she had left her unconscious companion.
No threats.
But she noticed numerous signs of struggle. From one of the crevices, red—already darkened—liquid trickled in thin streams.
The bundle of materials lay on the floor. Elena pulled pebbles from the pockets of her jacket. She used them to outline the borders of the hearth. Inside she tossed splinters and embers.
Smoke rose reluctantly. As soon as she blew on the nascent flame, the tinder crackled and fire appeared.
Elena tossed some moss on top. Light and warmth were no longer a problem.
The girl approached the stone wall at the base of which the most blood had collected.
The crack in the rock was only palm-wide. Astonishingly, a person had fit inside.
With her eyes closed, Vanessa believed there was no salvation for her.
She was wrong.