Page 87 of The Ascended
"Go," I grabbed Thatcher's hand. "Run for the light. Don't look back."
"Thais—" Marx started.
"GO!"
We veered from their path. Behind us, Marx and Kyren crashed toward the beacon. The pack followed us instead.
"This way," Thatcher gasped, pulling me deeper into darkness.
Branches whipped across my face, drawing blood. Behind us, something massive burst through the underbrush—close enough I felt its hot breath on my neck. I ducked as claws whistled through the air where my head had been, taking a chunk of bark from a tree instead.
The ground dropped suddenly. We half-fell, half-slid down a steep embankment, rocks tearing at our clothes. The creature leaped after us, its bulk slamming into the earth inches from Thatcher's legs.
We scrambled up, sprinting through a maze of roots. My antlers tangled in low-hanging vines. I ripped free, leaving strands of hair behind. The pack split, trying to flank us. Glowing eyes appeared on our left—I yanked Thatcher right just as jaws snapped shut on empty air.
A fallen tree blocked our path. We vaulted over, but my landing went wrong. My ankle caught on a jagged piece of metal and twisted violently. The rusted edge sliced deep through my leather pants and into the meat of my calf.
Pain exploded up my leg. I stumbled, nearly going down, but Thatcher's hand on my elbow kept me upright.
"You're hurt?—"
"Keep moving!"
Blood soaked into my boot with each desperate stride, the wetsquelch growing louder. Something with too many legs dropped from the canopy—Thatcher shoved me sideways as its stinger stabbed the ground where I'd been. The sudden movement sent white-hot agony through my calf, and I tasted copper as I bit through my lip to keep from screaming.
The creature shrieked, yanking its barb free for another strike.
We burst through thorns that tore through our clothes. My left leg had gone numb below the knee, each footfall throwing off my balance.
Stone rose before us, cutting off escape. We spun, seeking another route, but the creatures had already surrounded us. The world tilted sickeningly as I turned too fast. Only Thatcher's grip on my arm kept me upright.
"Thais?" His voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was speaking through water.
Circling. Closing in. Why were there two of each creature? No—my vision was doubling, sliding in and out of focus.
My good leg buckled first, muscles simply refusing to hold my weight anymore. I dropped to one knee, hand pressed against my calf. Wetness spread beneath my palm—blood, so much blood. The edges of my vision went gray, then black, creeping inward like closing curtains.
"Can't—" The word came out slurred. My tongue felt thick and clumsy. Cold spread from my extremities inward, the kind of bone-deep chill that came with shock.
The largest beast stepped forward—the thorn-bear, its form rippling with tiny daggers. It opened a mouth full of razor teeth, and I knew we'd reached the end.
"I'm sorry, Thatcher." My voice cracked.
"Me too." We held each other as death approached.
The beast pressed its nose against my hair, nudging my antler as its face traveled down, coating my shirt with hot breath and mucus. My head lolled back, too heavy to hold up anymore.
Then it reached my hip.
A growl rumbled from its throat—or was that the rushing sound in my ears? Everything sounded like ocean waves now.
The creature's burning eyes widened. It stepped back, nostrils flaring. A confused whine escaped its throat.
Another beast approached—some writhing thing of vine and thorn. But it too stopped short, retreating as if burned. Their forms blurred into smears of color and shadow.
One by one, the creatures backed away.
"What—" Thatcher's voice, sharp with panic. His face swam above me—when had I fallen? "Thais! Your leg—gods, there's so much?—"
