Over twenty minutes had passed with Jack lying in the hollow beneath the fallen tree’s roots. He was waiting to see if the other adventurers had followed him. His only company was the cooling corpse of the rat-faced rogue and what felt like hundreds of bugs which crept all over him. Damp soil clung to his clothes, and the scent of moss and forest decay filled his nostrils.

  Jack’s body ached from the frantic sprint through the forest and the vicious struggle with the rat-faced rogue. He was covered in small cuts and bruises, and his left side burned with a relentless throb. Half an arrow was still lodged in his side; the iron head had snapped off in the skirmish, lost somewhere in the grass and wildflowers. The front of his body, however, betrayed his injury; the arrow shaft jutted out, the feathers soaked in blood and dirt.

  Despite his injuries and the damn bugs crawling under his clothing, his breathing was shallow and controlled. Any louder, and they’d hear him.

  Branches cracked somewhere in the forest.

  “…think they came this way,” a woman’s voice said, muffled by foliage but growing clearer.

  “You said that ten minutes ago,” came a deep, gruff irritated reply. “We’ve followed three deer trails and a fucking squirrel’s tracks.”

  Jack froze. His heart thudded in his chest, every beat a hammer blow against his ribs. At least two of them. He didn’t dare move. Fuck! He held his breath as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Should I have gone back to the city?

  After the fight with the rogue, he’d settled on the plan to hide in the root well of the fallen tree. He hoped to wait there until he’d regained enough strength to walk the four or so miles back to Lundun. Without knowing how far away the other five adventurers were, it was a prudent choice; they could’ve appeared within seconds of the fight’s conclusion or never come his way.

  The truth settled like a stone in his gut. No. I made the right choice. Even with a twenty-minute head start, he still wouldn’t have made it, not in this condition. If he’d tried to ‘run’, they’d have caught him before he’d got within sight of the city’s towers.

  The young woman’s voice drew closer. “I’m a healer, not a damn scout.” She scoffed. “That toothless fool ran off without us… I’d like to see you track people in a dark forest where dozens of adventurers pass by every day.”

  “Just find them, okay?” the large swordsman replied in his deep voice.

  “What’s the rush?” another young man added to the conversation. “Kyle’s probably hiding the kid’s body… he’ll meet us back at the tavern.”

  “Come on… Let’s head back… My leg’s killing,” the young woman Jack had heard earlier complained. Sounding annoyed, she added, “You saw the kid. Kyle won’t have problems with that weakling. He didn’t even have armour; just some brat playing adventurer on the weekend.”

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. They aren’t taking me seriously. He scanned the meadow where he’d fought with the ratty rogue, Kyle. Fading daylight painted the meadow in bronze and blue shadows, making it harder to see what had happened. The battlefield, if it could be called that, lay less than twenty feet away, a patch of disturbed grass and flattened wildflowers.

  “I’m sure they went this way,” the young female healer said, her voice closer now.

  The large swordsman replied, “We’ll search for five more minutes, then head back before dark.”

  Jack forced a smile. They’re close to giving up, and they don’t see me as a threat. Thank the Gods.

  Then a shadow moved. A young woman with short hair passed into his line of sight. She wore simple leather armour, a dagger at her side. She also carried a small pack marked with a red cross, indicating it contained a healer’s supplies.

  Jack’s fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger. If she spotted him, he’d have to strike first.

  Soon, the large swordsman came into view. His greatsword was sheathed on his back at a slight angle, with the seven-foot-long weapon protruded a couple of feet above his head.

  “Look…” the female healer said, pointing at the patch of meadow where Jack and the rogue had fought. “Something happened there.”

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  Two more people emerged into Jack’s line of sight. The young woman with the injured leg, who was still hidden, complained, “Let’s head back. Kyle will meet us in Lundun.”

  “A few more minutes,” the large swordsman replied as he began moving towards the knee-high grass where Jack and the rogue clashed. “Do you think they fought here?” he asked, sounding unconvinced.

  “I don’t know… maybe?” the healer responded. “They could’ve fought here, but it might’ve been a herd of deer… or a couple going at it, for all I know.” She shrugged. “This area is heavily used. It’s hard to tell.”

  Jack smiled and tried to relax. They aren’t going to find me, he reassured himself. I’m safe. He’d read about the habits of deer and knew that their resting spots were marked by flattened grass. He’d seen it as he tracked deer through the forest. Come on… give up and go back to the city. He tried not to move as a large bug crawled over his face, forcing him to close his eyes. Get the fuck off me, you creepy fucker. His body shivered as the bug’s legs tickled his cheek.

  The injured woman came into view, her long blonde hair capturing the failing light. “Can we go? It’s late, and my leg’s killing me.”

  Over her simple leather armour, Jack could see a white bandage wrapped around her right leg; it was stained red with blood. Is she a mage? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t see any weapons. The goblin must have stabbed her.

  “Linda healed it,” the large man replied as he scouted around the area where Jack and Kyle had fought to the death. “You’ll be fine. Most of the pain’s in your head.”

  “In my head!?” the injured woman shot back. “Fuck you! What the hell do you know about the pain of a rabid goblin driving a filthy, rusty sword into your leg?”

  The swordsman ignored the outburst and continued to examine the disturbed area of the meadow.

  “Your leg will be fine, but it’s going to hurt for a few days… that’s normal.” Linda, their healer, explained while trying to placate the injured woman. “I’m not high enough level to heal a sword wound in minutes.”

  “There’s blood here,” the large swordsman said as he unsheathed his greatsword. “Fan out.”

  The five adventurers prepared for a fight while Jack held his breath. Fuck, he gripped his dagger as he braced himself to face five experienced adventurers. He was in no state to fight one, let alone five.

  “There’s a lot of blood here,” said the other swordsman with a shield, standing where Jack had stabbed the rogue in the throat.

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to control his rising panic. His pulse pounded in his ears, louder than the voices.

  “I found half an arrow,” another man said. Based on his simple leather armour and the wand he carried, Jack was sure he was a mage. “It’s covered in blood!” He picked up the damaged arrowhead, the fletching half was missing, and offered it to the large swordsman. “Is that Kyle’s?”

  Jack’s mind raced for solutions, but he only found regrets. I should’ve covered the trail better. I should’ve found another place to hide. I should’ve…

  The large man took the bloody arrow and nodded as he examined it. “I think so… the jagged tip matches. He prefers the serrated heads… they cause more pain and damage.”

  Jack was on the verge of a panic attack. He was struggling to control his breathing, and every tiny bug that crawled across his body made him want to jump up and shake his clothes clean.

  “Then he got the brat,” the injured woman said. “He’ll be in Lundun, drinking ale, while we’re here in the dark.”

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Yes. He’s in Lundun. Please, just leave.

  The large swordsman laughed. “Afraid of the dark, Sam? I can keep you safe and warm back in the city.” He tossed the broken arrow into the grass. “All you have to do is ask nicely.”

  The other two men laughed at the implication, relaxing as they joked.

  Sam, the injured woman, scoffed, “I’d rather join a brothel for warmth. At least I’d be warm for more than a few minutes.”

  Laughter rippled through the group; the large swordsman smiled at the insult.

  “We’re losing light,” the large swordsman announced. “Kyle’s probably gutted the kid, dumped the body and is in Lundun. He’ll be selling the brat’s gear before we get a chance at a share.”

  The others nodded in agreement and relaxed, sheathing their weapons.

  “He’ll be at Madam Lou’s, drinking away the coin… through a straw,” joked the swordsman with a shield. “We should go so he can buy us a few rounds.”

  The others laughed.

  Beneath the roots, Jack tried not to react, though his muscles trembled with the effort of lying still. His panic began to recede as he watched and listened. Their camaraderie was natural, unguarded. Had he met them in a tavern, he might’ve shared a drink with them. Now he imagined what it would feel like to gut them one by one.

  Linda rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe the fool lost his teeth slipping on a wet floor.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued, “What sort of moron runs out of a bathroom wet and butt naked? You know, he still thinks he’ll find a healer who can reattach his front teeth!” She scoffed at the notion.

  The others laughed again.

  Jack sighed with relief; his dagger hand slackened as the five adventurers turned and began their trek back to the city. He listened to them chatting about how unreliable and idiotic their rogue, Kyle, was and their plans for the week ahead. Their banter and laughter faded into the meadow before him. Replaced by the buzz of insects collecting nectar to survive the cool night.

  He wanted to rise, follow, and slit their throats in the dark. But his body was shaking, his side ached, and he was covered in creepy fucking bugs. Jack knew he was too weak and was lucky to be alive. I’ll get stronger, he vowed to himself, I’ll get much stronger. Despite the bugs, he forced himself to wait another fifteen minutes before moving.