We had eaten in silence, but a new urgency was beginning to take shape. The smell of cooked meat, despite its repulsive nature, still lingered in the air. And the firelight, though welcoming and warm, did not provide the safety we dreamed of. The forest seemed to be waiting, ready to swallow us at any moment. The crackling of burning wood was only the echo of a fragile tranquility, ready to collapse at the slightest misstep. We had to move.
Romain stood up abruptly, his sword swinging from side to side. His face, still marked by exhaustion, radiated a new strength. "We have to leave. Now," he said in a deep but firm voice. "The fire, the smell… all of this will attract more creatures. We can't stay here any longer. We have to keep moving."
Glances were exchanged, all marked by fatigue, fear, but also the necessity to continue. We had no choice. The air was dense, heavy with the humidity that clung to our skin, and the flashes of lightning that occasionally streaked the sky between the twisted trunks, though distant, gave the impression that the entire forest was electrified. An almost supernatural atmosphere… but a sinister one.
"Yes, it's better if we leave," Leonard agreed, his eyes still red, his throat tight, his voice slightly hoarse. "We need to find water, other resources." He glanced around uneasily, his hands trembling slightly. "But… where are we going to find water in this place…?"
"We have no choice," Janna replied, clenching her hands tighter than necessary. Her eyes gleamed with an indefinable light, a mixture of determination and terror. "If we stay here, we risk losing everything. In any case, this forest won't give us any respite."
I cast a quick glance around us. The light from our fire had begun to fade, replaced by the oppressive darkness of the forest. The tree trunks formed a complex network of twisted silhouettes that seemed to warp before our eyes, as if the darkness itself had malformed them. And with each flash of lightning, the forest appeared even more foreign, more menacing. The wind blew, carrying dead leaves, and the sounds of invisible creatures echoed in the shadows, like furtive whispers.
"It's so stiflingly hot…" murmured Lucas, glancing at the treetops where lightning slithered through the branches. "It's like the forest itself is alive." He shivered, his eyes nervously scanning the horizon. "I feel like we're going to be swallowed up here."
Marie, ever calm, stepped beside him, her eyes fixed on the surrounding darkness. "This forest… it's too quiet to be normal," she said softly, almost to herself. "It feels like it's watching us."
We all stood up, each carrying our own burden, whether physical or mental. Romain, without a word, moved forward with a focused air. He was the leader, and we had no choice but to follow him into this hostile place. Romain supported Marie, whose legs wavered under the weight of exhaustion, and Lucas, still weakened, who struggled to keep up despite the effort. Both of them were too drained to carry anything, and Romain had taken on the responsibility of supporting them without complaint.
We resolved to abandon four wolf carcasses, taking only two bodies, which would be carried by two people each. Janna and I took one of the creatures, while Leonard and Jules handled the other. We had no other choice: the road was too dangerous, and our strength too limited to risk carrying all the spoils. The beasts were left behind, their grotesque forms collapsing under the pounding rain and lightning.
After what felt like an hour of walking, perhaps more, Janna suddenly stopped, panting, and turned her gaze around as if trying to peer through the invisible horizon between the twisted trunks. Her features were marked by exhaustion, but her mind remained sharp, always alert.
"We should be close to water, right?" she asked, her voice sharp, a hint of anxiety piercing through her determination. "I feel like we're sinking deeper. These swamps… it's madness."
The lightning continued to rip through the air, momentarily illuminating the forest like a macabre painting. The humidity had become suffocating, the air thick and damp, saturated with the scent of decaying earth. We could almost feel the mud beneath our feet, each step becoming harder to take.
"We have to keep going," Romain replied, his voice hard, without turning around. "Water will be our salvation. But we have to hold on a little longer. If we stop here, it's over."
The group exchanged heavy looks, but no one protested. We were already too deep into this forest to turn back. The swamps were a danger, but the fear of not finding water, of lacking everything, forced us forward.
Janna clenched her teeth but, without another word, resumed walking, following Romain's tracks, determined not to be overwhelmed. But uncertainty grew with every step, and I could feel a palpable tension in the air—a premonition that what we were searching for might not offer the respite we hoped for.
Jules, his heightened perception sharp, suddenly raised his hand, and a shiver ran through the group. We all held our breath, remembering the last time he had done this—when everything had spiraled into chaos. The air around us seemed to freeze for a moment, tense, each member of the group straining to listen in heavy anticipation.
But this time, after a long pause, Jules cried out, his voice strained from the effort but filled with hope:
"I hear it! I hear a stream!"
A wave of relief, mixed with doubt, swept over us. Water, at last. What we had been searching for all this time. But instinct whispered that it wouldn't be so simple. A river, perhaps. But what awaited us in these swamps, where water was never truly safe?
Finally!" murmured Leonard, a bit lighter, but his voice betrayed a lingering worry. "We'll be able to... drink. Wash up. Maybe even rest for a bit."
But Romain, always on guard, looked around, his expression hard, as if something about this discovery unsettled him. "Be careful. The water, yes... but everything here can be deceiving. We don't know what's lurking in these swamps."
We exchanged silent glances, each of us taking a moment to process the thought. The forest, this oppressive and menacing mass around us, wouldn't grant us respite so easily. But the call of the current was a promise of relief, a bit of life in this wasteland of terror. Without a word, we moved forward, guided by the sound of water—hope rekindled, yet caution still shadowing every step.
At last, we reached the water's edge. It appeared clear, a pale blue that contrasted with the forest's gray gloom, but we all knew that nothing here could be taken at face value. The water might be clear, but who knew what lurked beneath the murky surface of this haunted wilderness?
Romain stopped abruptly, scanning the area before speaking, his tone as authoritative as ever: "We stop here. No one moves. The water is our priority now. We can't afford to search any further."
Jules, ever cautious, grimaced. "We should heat it, just in case," he said, his gaze locked onto the water as though he sensed this could still turn into a nightmare. "Better to be sure."
No one objected. There was nothing to add, nothing to debate. This forest, this world turned wild and twisted, left no room for discussion. We were all too exhausted, too scarred by what we had endured to take any unnecessary risks. So, we got to work, each absorbed in the task of preparing for what felt like a fragile moment of respite.
With hands trembling from fatigue, we gathered wood, stones—anything that could help us start a fire. We had to settle, even if only for a brief moment. Every movement was a relief. The gently flowing water before us was a small illusion of normalcy in a world that had stripped us of it.
Lucas knelt by the fire pit, focused on igniting a flame, his exhaustion evident but his determination unwavering. With skilled hands, he coaxed a spark into life, feeding it carefully. We watched, almost like children, as that fragile little flame began to push back the darkness around us.
Romain's shield, still dented from earlier battles, was placed over the fire, serving as a makeshift container to hold the water. Slowly, the metal heated, and once we collected the water, it began to tremble slightly. No one dared to speak. The silence was thick, almost oppressive, every movement marked by the ever-present tension. Each of us waited, exhausted but clinging to the faint hope that this simple act could bring some comfort in a world that offered nothing but struggle.
When the water was finally heated, we took our turns drinking, sipping slowly. Our throats, dry from dust and fear, welcomed each drop, every gulp feeling like it cleansed something inside us. But no amount of water could wash away the unease that clung to us.
The fire crackled, and for a moment, the world around us seemed less threatening, though the darkness remained. We sat together, a little closer to survival, a little closer to hope. But in this cursed forest, that hope was fragile—just like the fire.
The heavy silence that had settled over us was finally broken by Romain's voice, firm and determined: "We need to leave. We can't stay here too long. If more creatures are drawn to the fire, things could get very bad." His eyes scanned the surroundings quickly, as if he already sensed an unseen danger lurking in the shadows.
Jules nodded, his face weary but still resolute. "We take the carcasses. We need to move away from the fire, keep following the stream. Further ahead, we might find a safer place to stop."
We all agreed. We didn't have the luxury of staying any longer. Even though the water and fire had offered a brief moment of comfort, we knew the forest was never truly safe, and one misstep could be fatal.
Janna and I, exhausted but still able, each grabbed one end of a wolf carcass, our bodies straining under the weight of the meat. Leonard and Jules took the other, their faces bearing the same exhaustion as ours, but also that same unyielding will to survive.
The group rose, each carrying their burden, the dead beasts a heavy responsibility. We knew that every mile we walked brought us closer to survival. But this forest never seemed willing to show mercy. The trees, still twisted and menacing, loomed above us like silent specters, their branches stretching out as if ready to ensnare us. The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying with it a chilling unease.
The stream, our guide, wound its way ahead, its soft murmuring almost soothing. But we knew even this water could betray us if we let our guard down. Lightning still cracked across the sky from time to time, casting ghostly light over the landscape, making the shadows dance and shift as if the forest itself was moving—watching us.
"We keep going," Romain said in a low voice, barely audible over the sound of the stream. "We need to stay clear. I don't want to risk staying in the fire's glow any longer."
We said nothing more, each of us focused on the march. The air was thick, the ground soft beneath our feet, and the branches seemed to grasp at our clothes as we passed. There was that feeling again, that persistent sense that the forest wasn't letting go, that it was all around us, watching.
The group walked in silence, following the stream that wound between the trees. The sound of the water, at first soothing, became increasingly oppressive as we advanced, like an incessant whisper reminding us that despite our progress, the forest remained a hostile place. The path was uneven, the ground slippery, and each step felt heavier than the last. Fatigue weighed on us, but we were determined to go further.
Thirty minutes passed in this silent march, flashes of lightning still briefly illuminating the forest, casting distorted shadows on the muddy ground. The air was saturated with humidity, and the warmth of the fire seemed to drift further and further away, like a distant memory.
When Romain raised his hand, signaling for us to stop, a sigh of relief passed through the group, though no one had the courage to say it aloud. We were all at the end of our rope, exhausted from the battles, the march, and the constant uncertainty pressing down on our shoulders.
"We rest here," Romain said, his tone firm but weary. "We can't keep going without risking collapse."
Once the campsite was decided, the atmosphere shifted. The group didn't even bother searching for wood or relighting a fire. The camp was set up in silence, each of us aware of the danger that could arise at any moment but too tired to care anymore. The wolf carcasses were laid on the ground, and without a word, Marie let herself collapse against a tree, her eyes shutting almost instantly. She was spent, her body no longer responding, and it showed in every feature of her face, marked by the hours spent fleeing, healing, and surviving.
Romain cast a heavy glance at Marie's sleeping figure but said nothing. She deserved this rest, fragile as it was.
The rest of the group quickly organized a watch schedule. We couldn't afford to sleep without taking precautions. We had to make sure no creatures surprised us in our sleep. The cold of the forest crept in slowly, but fatigue overtook us more than the fear of the darkness.
"Three groups of two," Romain said, his voice authoritative but tired. "Me and Janna. You two"—he gestured to Jules and Leonard—"Lucas and you." He didn't even bother explaining further. It was simple, direct, like everything he had done since taking charge. Each pair was responsible for covering a third of the night, watching over the blackened forest that seemed to swallow everything outside our small circle.
The problem, however, was that we had no sense of time. No clear sky, no clock. No watch, nothing. Just the darkness stretching on and the cold mist weaving around us like an invisible predator. We simply had to rely on our instincts, on the unseen rhythm of time slipping away from us. The idea of a "shift" was nothing more than a vague concept, each of us trying to keep our eyes open and our minds as sharp as possible.
"We have no idea what time it is, do we?" Lucas asked, his voice almost foreign, as if he didn't believe what he was saying.
"No," Janna replied, her brows furrowed as she scanned the dense forest around her. "It's easy when you can see. But here... here it's different. Not with all this around us."
Silence fell heavy after her words, each of us lost in thought, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot and the murmur of the stream serving as a backdrop to our worries.
"We do what we can," Jules murmured, leaning down to pick up his bow, preparing for the watch. "We do what we can," he repeated, as if those words were a mantra, a way to hold on to reality, no matter how cruel it was.
The first watch began without further words. We were all too exhausted for conversation. We settled into our positions, scanning the shifting shadows, hoping to catch the slightest sign of movement, but the silent anxiety mixed with the fleeting warmth of our brief respite.
Each of us, in our own way, fought against the temptation to close our eyes, knowing that even a single moment of inattention could be our last.
The night stretched on, tense and silent, each minute dragging into eternity. And yet, against all expectations, despite our constant fears, nothing disturbed our watch. No suspicious noise broke the oppressive silence of the forest. No movement in the shadows, no menacing figure appeared between the trees. The fear, though ever-present in our minds, slowly faded as the hours passed. Time seemed suspended, hovering somewhere between uncertainty and the fragile hope of a reprieve.
When at last the gray light of dawn crept over the horizon, outlining the blurred shapes of the trees, we realized the night had passed without incident. A quiet sigh of relief echoed through the group, though no one allowed themselves to truly relax.
Safety was never guaranteed.
But for now, we were still here.
And that was already a small victory.
4o