I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Morning arrived grey and cold beneath the dense forest canopy.

Arthur was still sitting near the edge of the camp, leaning his head back against the heavy bark of a pine tree, when the others began stirring. At some point during the night, he had dozed off against the wood without realizing it.

Rhea was awake a few feet away, her breath pluming faintly in the frigid air. She glanced at him.

"Good sleep?"

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "Excellent. Roots are very underrated."

Rhea’s tail gave a single, slow flick across the dirt.

Across the camp, Kara pushed herself up from her bedroll. She stretched, caught sight of Arthur and Rhea sitting quietly beside each other, and smirked.

Arthur caught the look and glanced toward Rhea. She was already glaring at Kara.

Kara drank from her waterskin as if she’d noticed nothing.

Joren looked better in the pale morning light, but when Derren helped him straighten the injured leg, his face tightened immediately.

Arthur opened his inventory and pulled out another heavy parcel of travel rations.

Kara stared at the fresh bread and cheese. "You have more?"

Arthur tossed her a portion. "I’m starting to understand why Seraphina packed three bags."

Joren took a piece of cured meat, chewing it thoughtfully. "This is considerably better than the dried bark Garr issues us."

They were just finishing the food when Rhea’s ears twitched. She stood up, picking up her spear and looking back down the western trail. A minute later, the brush rustled, and two wolfkin hunters stepped into the clearing.

They had followed the trail markers Rhea left the previous afternoon. One carried a rolled canvas stretcher across his back, while the other had an extra supply bag slung over one shoulder.

Rhea looked behind them. "Merek?"

The first hunter shook his head. "Never came back."

One of the new hunters crouched beside Joren and began securing him to the canvas stretcher. The other studied the direction Rhea gave him for Merek’s trail before looking toward Kara.

"I know those northern ridges."

Kara glanced east once, toward Torr’s trail, then tightened the straps on her blades.

"Merek’s alone too," Rhea told her.

Kara didn’t argue. She grabbed Rhea’s shoulder before turning away. "Bring him back."

"You too," Rhea said.

Kara looked past her at Arthur. "Try not to get her eaten."

"Seems like a low bar," Arthur noted.

Rhea shoved him lightly toward the eastern trail, and the two groups separated into the trees.

The blood trail Torr had left behind was easy to follow initially. He had been bleeding heavily when he fled the clearing, leaving dark, crusted splashes across roots and ferns. But Rhea didn’t move quickly.

Rhea checked the wind almost as often as she checked Torr’s blood trail. Her spear stayed in her hand, and every crack from the surrounding brush sent one ear turning toward it.

Arthur kept only a few steps between them as they followed Torr’s blood deeper into the trees.

Derren brought up the rear, stepping quietly over a massive fallen trunk. "That was Hati last night?"

Rhea kept her eyes on the brush ahead. "Yeah."

"Your village has a strange definition of wildlife," Derren muttered.

Arthur ducked under a low branch. "They call something the size of a house a wolf."

"He’s not the size of a house," Rhea corrected.

"Small house."

Derren chuckled behind them.

They walked for another mile before the trail sloped upward into a rocky ravine. Rhea navigated the uneven ground without slowing down, eventually glancing back over her shoulder.

"What’s in Lornfell?" she asked.

Arthur stepped over a jagged stone. "Academy."

Rhea glanced back at him. "You’re a student?"

"Heading back after visiting Emily’s family," Arthur said.

Rhea’s ear gave a sharp flick. "Emily?"

"Girlfriend."

Rhea stopped walking for a fraction of a second. She turned her head, giving him a flat, measuring look. "You have a girlfriend and you stare at every woman you meet?"

"Those activities aren’t mutually exclusive."

"Poor woman," Rhea muttered.

"She knows what I’m like," Arthur said. "She’d probably like you."

Rhea nearly tripped over a protruding root. She caught her balance, glaring at the back of his head, while Derren laughed out loud behind them.

The ravine narrowed, forcing them to climb a steep, muddy embankment slick with morning dew. Rhea scrambled up first, her boots finding purchase easily on the wet stone. At the top, she turned and reached a hand down toward him.

Arthur took it.

Her grip was calloused and strong. Rhea hauled him over the slick edge, but when his boots found level ground, her hand remained around his for another moment.

Arthur glanced down at their joined hands.

Rhea released him and turned back to the trail.

They found the place Torr had stopped twenty minutes later.

There was a smear of dried blood against the bark of a wide oak tree and disturbed moss near its roots. A torn strip of heavy linen lay in the dirt beside a thick branch worn muddy at one end.

Rhea knelt beside the tree, brushing her fingers over the moss. She let out a slow breath.

"He kept moving," she said quietly.

Derren inspected the linen. "Blood is dry, but it’s not terribly old. He’s ahead of us."

They pushed on.

A small brown rabbit froze in the brush a few yards ahead, its nose twitching frantically. The moment Arthur stepped on a dry leaf, the rabbit bolted—but not away from them. It sprinted wildly to the west, cutting across their path to get away from the deeper woods.

Arthur watched it disappear into the ferns. "Another one leaving?"

"Yeah," Rhea said.

Around midday, they slowed their pace just long enough to eat while walking. Arthur opened his inventory and pulled out another wrapped parcel. Derren took a thick slice of bread and cheese.

"I’m staying with you until the food runs out," Derren decided.

"And here I thought we were friends," Arthur said.

Rhea didn’t wait to be offered a portion. She simply reached over and took a slice of cured meat directly from the open wrapping in Arthur’s hand.

Arthur looked at her.

Rhea took a bite. "What?"

Arthur smiled. "Nothing."

Half a mile later, the tracks on the ground changed.

Rhea stopped near a patch of soft dirt. A single, enormous paw print was pressed deep into the earth, cutting directly across the path Torr had dragged himself along. A few yards later, they found another.

"Following him?" Derren asked quietly.

"Maybe," Rhea said.

"You really enjoy that word," Arthur noted.

Rhea gave him a short glare and kept moving.

Rhea stopped again beside a low branch. Dark blood streaked the leaves, and several coarse black hairs were caught where the bark had splintered.

One of Hati’s paw prints sank into the soft ground directly beneath it.

Rhea pulled one of the hairs free and stared at the blood on the branch. "He’s hurt."

Her ears lowered slightly. "And he’s getting worse."

A faint voice reached them some time later, muffled by the trees and sounding suspiciously like somebody swearing violently at a rock.

Arthur stopped. Derren looked up behind him.

Rhea was already changing direction.

They found Torr wedged beneath a heavy, jutting overhang of grey stone. He looked terrible. Dried blood coated the left side of his leather armor, his right arm was bound tightly against his chest with a crude splint, and his face was bruised yellow and purple.

His spear was gone, but he held a hunting knife gripped tightly in his good hand.

He looked up as Rhea stepped into the clearing. He lowered the knife, letting his head thump back against the stone.

"Took you long enough," Torr groaned.

Arthur looked at Rhea. "Is that a hunter thing?"

"Apparently," Rhea sighed, walking over to check his splint.

Torr gritted his teeth while Rhea checked his ribs. He gave Derren a nod of recognition, then looked Arthur over once before turning his attention back to Rhea.

"Why the hell were you going east?" Rhea asked while tightening the crude splint around Torr’s arm. "Rauk Hollow is the other way."

Torr winced. "Wasn’t trying to get home."

He leaned his head back against the stone and took a few breaths before continuing. After Joren went down, Torr had made as much noise as possible and pulled the fighting away from him. Hati followed for a while, but deeper in the forest he suddenly broke away and kept heading east.

"So you followed him," Derren said.

Torr gave him a tired look. "Seemed smarter at the time."

"It wasn’t."

"Yeah. Figured that out around the broken ribs."

Rhea finished with the splint. "What was he doing?"

Torr rubbed his good hand over his face. "That’s the problem. I don’t know."

He’d watched Hati tear into corrupted animals without even feeding afterward. A little later the wolf had scattered healthy deer and nearly taken a tree apart for no reason Torr could see.

"He keeps going east," Torr finished. "Whatever’s wrong with him, that’s where he’s trying to get."

Torr’s eyes locked onto the trees behind Arthur, his fingers tightening around the knife.

Rhea’s ears flattened against her head.

Something moved between the trunks behind Arthur.

At first he caught only pieces of it through the trees—a dark shoulder, a thick foreleg, branches shifting as something much larger than an ordinary wolf passed between them.

Then it stepped into a gap in the forest.

Hati was roughly the size of a heavy draft horse, though the resemblance ended there. Dark fur covered a heavily muscled frame marked by old scars, and fresh blood stained one side of his muzzle.

The corruption was visible now too. Dark lines spread through the thinner fur around his neck and jaw, reaching toward one bloodshot eye.

The other eye was clear.

Hati looked past Arthur and settled on Rhea.

Rhea slowly lowered the tip of her spear toward the dirt.

"Hati," she said softly.

Hati’s ears twitched at his name.

He stepped forward once, then stopped.

His shoulders suddenly tightened. The dark veins along his neck showed starkly beneath the thinner fur, and a deep growl rolled from his chest as his lips pulled back from long yellow-white teeth.

Arthur brought Whisperwind up and began putting tension on the string.

Rhea raised one hand toward him without taking her eyes from Hati.

Arthur stopped before reaching full draw.

Hati stared at Rhea.

The growl faltered.

Then his head jerked sharply to one side and his jaws snapped shut on empty air. One forepaw raked through the dirt as he stumbled backward, tearing loose a section of root.

He turned, the muscles in his back bunching tightly, and disappeared into the deep brush.

Torr let out a ragged breath from beneath the overhang. "That’s what I was trying to tell you."

Arthur kept Whisperwind pointed toward the empty trees. "You could’ve led with that."

Rhea lowered her hand but kept staring between the trees.

Farther east, another heavy branch snapped.

Then another.

The sounds gradually moved deeper into the forest.

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