Jenna crashes through the foliage, leaves flying everywhere as she yanks her best friend through the trees.

Furious trills and coos echo from behind as the horde of feathered lizard-things nip at their heels with every stride. She curses—grabs a nearby stick and attempts to swat the creatures away.

"What are you doing?" Allen balks—he skids to a halt, spins on his heel and yanks at her grip on his wrist, "Come on!"

One—no, several of the creatures leap forward to bite down onto the stick—God damn it, they won’t get off. 

"Jenna!"

"I'm coming!" She snaps, yanking at the stick to shake them off—there are too many of them. She growls and gives in, abandoning the stick.

She yanks at Allen's wrist and runs.

They burst through trees and vines and thickets as the fog around their ankles thickens from a light blur into a dense grey. Jenna glances behind her—feathered, fan-like tails are quickly becoming the only things she can see through the rising fog. Crap. She tightens her grip on Allen’s wrist.

Not good.

"Ah—!"

Allen trips and Jenna is yanked backwards, their bodies in a sudden freefall towards the forest floor. Jenna blanches—she scrambles to grab onto something, anything, as the creatures’ obnoxious coos rapidly approach. 

They’re not going down because Allen tripped on a twig—there! Her eyes snap onto a long, thin branch hanging from a nearby tree trunk. She latches onto it—it breaks. God damn it—gravity takes hold and they plummet, slamming hard into the forest floor. The wind is knocked from her lungs. 

Allen grunts on impact—he gasps—he curls around his wounded ankle. Jenna scrambles to her feet. 

A frill-necked creature launches itself out of the fog, aiming for Allen’s leg. She snatches the broken branch from the forest floor and swings it at the purple lizard like a baseball bat. Its leaves audibly whip through the air as it makes contact with the creature and punts it right back into the fog with the rest of its lizard buddies.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Jenna barks, whipping the air with the branch to drive them back, “Piss off!” 

They retreat just far enough to avoid the swinging branch, continuing to hiss and screech at them from every angle. Jenna growls and goes to pull Allen back to his feet—

"Ow!" he yelps, almost falling right back into the dirt—Jenna locks in and yanks his skinny ass up regardless. She holds his arm in a death grip as she swats at the stupid lizards again to keep them back.

“What is it?” 

“My ankle,” Allen shouts, trying to put pressure on it for a second—he yelps again and hoists his ankle back into the air, “Bloody—I think it’s, I don’t know, twisted? I can’t—it’s a twist or a sprain, Jen. I’m not going to be able to—Christ.”

"Ssibal," Jenna curses—she feels a hint of pressure near her own ankle and spin-kicks the offending lizard straight back into the fog. She growls under her breath, eyes darting between the feathered tails surrounding them like a shiver of sharks circling their prey. 

Her fingers flex around the branch in her hands. What to do... what to do... A creature shrieks, followed by another and another as they leap out of the fog in groups of twos and threes. Jenna barely manages to smack them away in time.

"You... you might have to leave me behind," Allen says in a shaky voice—Jenna whips around to face him with an incredulous look on her face, "My ankle's—I'll only slow you down, Jen."

"Are you stupid?" Jenna snaps, smacking another opportunistic feathered rat out of the air, "You think I'm gonna ditch your ass over a twisted ankle?"

"We're surrounded!"

"I know!" She shouts—a lizard-thing bursts down from the tree above. She tries to smack it away with the branch—it grabs hold, sinking its claws into the leaves and refuses to let go. She curses, shaking the branch around like a madwoman to get it off but the stupid thing just refuses to let go—! 

“Get off, you stupid—oh, screw this,” Jenna growls—she throws the whole branch into the distance like a discus. She spins to face Allen, giving him a quick once-over before getting into position and ramming her shoulder into the man’s gut.

"Wha—hey, what're you doing?!" He shrieks—she adjusts her grip around his waist, "Jenna!"

"Shut up and stop moving!" She snaps back, plants her feet in the ground and lifts that stupid twink over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes—"You weigh like nothing, what the hell? Eat a sandwich, Christ—"

"Jenna—"

A screech is all the warning Jenna gets before she's bolting out of the way of an absolute fountain of hungry feathered lizard-things—"Oh, hell no—hold on, buddy!" She readjusts her grip on Allen's lower back, lowers her stance and runs.

There's got to be an end to this stupid forest somewhere.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Jenna runs like a bat out of hell as Allen clings to her back for dear life because Jesus Christ the tiny feathered dinosaurs just won't leave them alone. He glances to the right—does a double take when he spots a strange, linear gap in the trees that looks just like a—Jenna skids to a halt and spins them around.

"Left or right?" Jenna asks, her tone urgent.

"Right—wait, no, left!" Allen replies, pointing towards the gap in the trees, "I think there's a path over there!"

She turns to look—her grip tightens on his legs, "I see it—hold on!"

"Wha—?"

A shift in Jenna's stance is all the warning he gets before she's pivoting to the right and bolting for the gap in the trees. Allen clings to her back for dear life and just hopes to all hell that he's right about the path.

Only the tips of the frill-necked creatures' tails are visible through the fog now. He tightens his grip on the back of Jenna's cropped leather jacket.

She bursts into the gap, her boots skidding against what sounds like gravel as she pivots hard to the left and continues to run. Though he can't see her feet, Allen is certain of it—she's not running along the natural forest floor anymore. They have to be on a path.

And a path means people.

Allen has never earnestly prayed a day in his life, but thank God.

They're not alone.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Fog pours from the edge of the Sondurak Cliffs as Aerys leads his team up the last steps of the Cikinti Stairway. He looks back towards the rising fog and frowns behind his mask. The fogtide's already obscured the entire stairway.

It's only a matter of time before they lose visibility up here as well.

"Alright team, line up," Damhan says, following it up with two distinct claps of his hands, "Gotta do a headcount."

"We haven't seen the canavari since Kasa, Dad," Riain interjects, arms folded over his chest.

"We do not perform headcounts for the canavari, Riain," Aerys states, removing his tether and handing it to Alexios, "The fog does not care if you have been in battle or not. Damhan?"

"Alright, team, you know the drill," the ex-knight replies with a hearty tone, "Son?"

Riain remains still for a long moment before he sighs behind his full-face mask and raises a hand, "Present."

"Serya?"

"Here!" She replies in a cheerful tone.

"Alexios?"

"Present."

"Captain?"

Aerys sighs—some nicknames aren't worth contesting, "Present."

Damhan claps his hands together with a smile in his tone, "Brilliant! That's five out of five. Alex?"

The doctor extends his arms towards the group, "Tethers, please."

The team begins removing their tethers and handing them to Alexios one at a time.

Aerys turns to the tree line marking the edge of the Uyku forest. He checks his pocket watch and frowns. The tide's come early. They'll need to proceed with caution.

"You think we'll make it back in time?" Damhan asks, his mask pointed towards Aerys' pocket watch.

He snaps it shut and slips it back into his coat.

"It will be close," Aerys replies—he turns to the rest of the group, "Guards up once we enter the forest. The fog's rising fast."

"Low tier fast, or mid tier fast?" Riain asks, a gruff concern to his tone.

"Mid tier fast."

Riain curses, "Blast. Alright."

Aerys turns back to the forest and goes to motion for the team to head out—he stops. He raises his hand—the Vault Team goes silent. He steps forward and concentrates on the sounds in the air. Of the leaves rustling in the wind and the distant calls of the canavari calling to one another in a mix of trills, songs and coos. Of distant shouting coming from the east—Aerys' body immediately snaps into a defensive position.

"Damhan, Serya—to the front," He orders, stepping back in line with the group, "We're not alone."

───※ ·❆· ※───

✨ Fan Work Spotlight ✨

Art by a wandering ghost who called themselves 'Mikhail'