Spirits of the Forest （Part 2）
The vision vanished in a blink.
A white-hot agony seared through Gareth's shin and calf.
He lurched upright, a raw scream tearing from his throat as he clutched his leg. Acrid yellow acid hissed, burning through leather, flesh, and muscle. Smoke rose in twisting tendrils.
The pain was blinding—a living fire gnawing at his bones.
The Dissolver stumbled toward him, face ashen, eyes wide with shock.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he blurted, voice broken and frantic. His hands trembled, as if he could scrub the accident from existence.
The apology tumbled out again and again—desperate, useless against the horror of what he'd done.
Rowena jolted upright, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat.
Her heart hammered as she scanned the camp, eyes wild and unfocused.
It took a moment to realize she was awake—no longer trapped in the nightmare.
Relief flickered and died as she took in the chaos: Gareth writhing in pain, the Dissolver pleading in panic. She forced herself to focus, shoving down the terror to make sense of the scene before her.
Gareth snatched his canteen and poured all the water over his leg, washing away the acid—but not the pain.
Gareth's voice was raw with pain and accusation. "What did you do?" he growled, barely keeping his composure as he glared at The Dissolver.
The brief relief of waking faded, replaced by shock and confusion as he realized the boy had attacked him in his sleep.
The Dissolver's words tumbled out in panic. "I'm sorry—I was dreaming, I swear! I was so scared, I didn't mean to hurt you!"
Rowena and Gareth exchanged looks, a shared realization dawning.
Rowena's voice shook as she pressed the question. "Tell me—what did you see in your dream?" Her hands trembled, knuckles white, as she tried to steady herself.
The Dissolver shivered, eyes wide and haunted. "It was horrible. I was alone... and then it came—an animal with horns, huge and white-eyed, staring right at me. I thought it would tear me apart."
"A white elk?" Gareth whispered, dread twisting inside him.
The Dissolver nodded slowly, confusion and fear etched on his face. "How did you know?"
Rowena and Gareth exchanged looks.
Rowena's voice was barely above a whisper, the question hanging in the air like a curse. "Did we all... have the same nightmare?"
One by one, they recounted their dreams.
Each detail matched: the monstrous elk, the endless forest, the darkness that devoured. Horror dawned as the truth sank in.
The nightmare was real—shared, a warning or a curse.
The silence that followed was dreadful. The forest seemed to press closer.
Were they doomed to die here?
The nightmares were so vivid, so horrifyingly real, that The Dissolver lashed out instinctively in his sleep—unleashing a spout of acid from his mouth.
It was a trait of his bloodline, descended from the mighty copper dragons of Solmira's desert wastes.
The corrosive spray missed Rowena by inches, but splashed across Gareth's leg and their equipment. The acid burned through leather, seared deep into muscle, and ruined nearly all their supplies in moments.
The stench of scorched flesh and melted gear hung thick in the air.
There was nothing to do but hastily wrap Gareth's wound and limp onward—desperate for civilization and any hope of medical aid before infection set in.
Haunted by what had happened, they pressed on. Each step was more uncertain than the last. The path twisted endlessly through the woods, winding in maddening loops, leaving them disoriented and hopeless.
For two days, they stumbled forward, snatching only moments of sleep. They were afraid to dream, afraid to close their eyes.
Hunger gnawed at them. Thirst made their mouths raw.
Despite it being early spring, just beyond the path—cruelly out of reach—ripe fruit hung from branches. Clear water trickled from springs. Fat, oblivious creatures scurried through the undergrowth.
Every day, the temptation to stray from the path grew stronger. But their terror of the forest's curse kept them in line.
Each new day was a disappointment—the forest stretched on with no end in sight.
Gareth's wound festered, the bandages filthy and the pain relentless. He forced himself to keep moving, masking his agony behind jokes and forced smiles—unwilling to reveal how desperate his situation was.
He knew all too well the dangers of an untreated wound—especially one tainted by dragon acid. There wasn't even a stick for a crutch.
Despite everything, he pressed forward, refusing to slow them down or show weakness.
Rowena and The Dissolver saw through Gareth's bravado. The Dissolver, haunted by guilt and fear, avoided meeting his eyes.
By the third day, silence settled over the group—heavy and hopeless.
Every hour stretched their nerves thinner. The forest seemed to close in, as if sensing weakness. Unspoken, a single fear gnawed at them all.
They might never escape these cursed woods alive.
On the third night, they collapsed beside the path, bodies wrung dry by hunger and thirst.
The Dissolver tossed restlessly on the cold ground, snapping awake at every sound—afraid of what sleep might bring.
Rowena sat beside Gareth, watching him with dread, chest tight. His face was drawn, his strength clearly ebbing.
The whole time they traveled, Gareth never once looked at the wound. Rowena's anxiety grew until she could no longer contain her curiosity.
"Gareth, your wound—how is it tonight?" she asked gently, as she did every night.
Gareth smiled with a forced, crooked grin, his pain showing through.
"It's not so bad," he managed.
She chose her words carefully. "May I look at it? Perhaps there's some way I can help."
He chuckled weakly. "There's nothing you can do. Looking at it will make no difference."
"Please. It's better to know," she urged.
Gareth thought about resisting, but even he was beginning to wonder how much time he had left before things turned worse. Reluctantly, he agreed.
She carefully untied the wrapping and peeled it back—just enough to peek inside. Her eyes widened, jaw dropping at the red swelling and hot infection taking root.
"Gareth..."
"I know," he cut her off, glancing nervously at the boy. "It could be worse."
With shaking hands, she replaced the sticky, bloodied bandage and met his gaze. For the first time, she saw real fear in his eyes.
"We must be close by now. Tomorrow, we'll make it out. You'll see," she said, trying to sound encouraging—but her voice betrayed fearful doubt.
They had barely settled in when the silence was interrupted by something unexpected. From deep in the forest, a sound rose—just a faint trembling at first, then swelling into a low rumble.
The Dissolver shot up, fear on his face. "What is that?" he asked, alarmed.
The rumble grew louder—unmistakable now.
It was the thunder of many hooves pounding the brick road.
It sounded like a stampede—and it was headed straight for them.