Slime doesn't taste nearly as good as you might imagine.
Though if you're imagining slime would taste good in the first place, you're probably as crazy as I am.
That morning, I sent my wolves hunting—Ivory and Silver, off to chase down our usual fare of rabbits and deer. While they were gone, I kept busy with the usual routine: gathering berries, sharpening arrows, stacking firewood for when they returned with something worth roasting.
That's when I saw it.
A strange green blob of slime, pulsing its way up a tree trunk, dissolving the bark as it climbed. I watched, fascinated by the slow, methodical way it consumed the wood.
The smart thing to do would have been to leave it alone.
Instead, I decided to eat it.
The texture was unsettling the moment I touched it—a tingling sensation that made my fingers twitch. I didn't hold it long before spearing it onto a stick and holding it over a hastily built fire. The reaction was immediate.
The blob shriveled with a high-pitched squeal, like air hissing out of a punctured bladder.
The smell hit next—a sour-sweet tang that should have been disgusting but wasn't. Something about it made my stomach growl.
By the time it darkened under the flames, curiosity had won out. Before I could think better of it, I popped the roasted slime into my mouth.
The taste was… disappointing. Bland, like tree sap, but weirdly sticky. It clung to my tongue, refusing to let go. I had to work up a ridiculous amount of saliva just to wash it down.
Note to self: only resort to eating slime if literally starving to death.
But that's just how my life worked—no responsibilities, no rules, just me doing whatever struck my fancy. Hunting with my wolves, exploring the forest, and, apparently, sampling mysterious substances.
Twenty years of freedom.
Until the knights showed up.
They made an odd pair: one short and wiry, clad in rust-spotted armor and wielding a wooden sword of all things. The other, tall and broad, gleamed in silver-blue plate, carrying a longsword nearly as tall as I was and a massive shield. Their helmets hid their faces, but their contrasting figures told me enough.
Knights never came this deep into the forest. This close to the kingdom's edge, where the wilds swallowed roads whole and even the bravest travelers turned back, their presence made no sense. Yet here they were, moving with purpose through my territory.
The smaller knight struggled under the weight of their supplies—food, camping gear, and whatever else they'd packed for their mysterious mission. I followed, curiosity outweighing caution. Being half-elven has its advantages: my ears catch sounds that escape both humans and wolves, though I keep them hidden beneath my hood. Better to avoid unwanted attention.
I was also quick—years of slipping between merchant caravans had sharpened my ability to dart in, grab what I needed, and disappear before anyone noticed. But this time, something went wrong.
"Drop the sack."
The deep voice rumbled from behind me, accompanied by the whisper of steel. I turned slowly to find the larger knight's longsword hovering near my nose.
Well. That escalated fast.
The blade was massive, yet he held it steady with one arm, keeping a measured distance. Trained, disciplined. Not someone I could trick easily.
"Uh… I'm hungry?" I tried my usual innocent act—the one that always worked on merchants. They expected to see a harmless young woman, down on her luck. And usually, that's all they saw.
At least until it was too late, and they realized what my pointed ears and unnatural speed meant.
Yes, I'm bragging about my elven traits, but they've kept me alive this long. I figured they'd serve me well against this knight too.
Sure, he was bigger. Stronger. But I was faster.
And speed always wins.
"Drop what you're holding and leave," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
I glanced at my prizes—some bread, dried meat, and a bronze necklace, hastily snatched from their supplies. "You'll have to catch me first!"
I darted left, ready to weave between them, when I heard the whoosh of something massive cutting through the air where I'd stood a heartbeat before. A lock of orange hair drifted past my face.
His sword was embedded in a tree trunk behind me.
The crazy bastard had thrown it. If I'd been even slightly slower, my head wouldn't be attached to my shoulders.
Okay. Time to go.
With the knight seemingly disarmed and his younger companion looking far from threatening, I bolted. That proved to be a serious mistake.
A split second later, something heavy slammed into my side, crushing me against a tree with brutal force. My breath hitched, lungs struggling against the weight pinning me down.
Impossible. He was as fast as me.
The pressure against my chest increased. My ribs strained as I gasped for air. When did he even get his sword back? It was suddenly there, pressing against me, as if it had never left his hands.
"Drop the necklace," he said.
I barely processed the words. Of all things to care about, this? The thing was barely worth a few coppers, yet this armored giant was willing to break me over it.
I was about to let it fall when I heard movement—light, swift paws padding through the underbrush.
My wolves.
Silver lunged first, slamming into the knight's side. It wasn't enough to do any real damage—his teeth scraped harmlessly against the steel—but the impact was enough.
Enough for me to break free.
Ivory, meanwhile, had a much easier time with the younger knight. The poor squire—he had to be a squire, given the flimsy wooden practice sword—kept swinging for dear life. Ivory just chomped through it in one decisive snap.
With both knights distracted, an idea—stupid, reckless, and absolutely worth it—took hold. The big guy had tried to kill me, after all. It was only fair to return the favor.
"Want this, big guy?" I taunted, slipping the necklace around my neck with an exaggerated raspberry.
His answering growl was downright feral.
Perfect.
I bolted, drawing two arrows and firing them into a nearby tree trunk. Not at him—at an angle, forming makeshift footholds. Three quick steps, and I vaulted onto a high branch.
This was my domain. I knew every tree, every hidden path, every shadow of this forest. No clunky tin-can knight could possibly—
WHOOSH.
A blur of steel. The crack of wood splitting beneath me.
My perch vanished.
Oh, come on—
I hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact. I didn't break anything, but Lance's unhurried approach set my nerves on edge. He walked like a predator—controlled, methodical, utterly certain I wasn't going anywhere.
"You're going to regret fighting me," I declared, bouncing lightly on my feet. I knew how to throw a punch. Years of forest living had toughened me up.
Lance tilted his helmet slightly. "You're the one that stole from us, you—"
I didn't let him finish. I lunged, striking fast and hard, putting every ounce of strength into a flurry of blows.
His armor rang like a temple bell.
I might as well have been punching a boulder.
The summer sun beat down mercilessly, and I couldn't fathom how he wasn't cooking inside all that steel. Sweat had to be pooling in his boots by now, yet he moved with unnatural ease.
"Try again, kid," he taunted.
Fine. I threw another punch, putting everything into it. It should have at least dented his breastplate.
It didn't.
He sidestepped effortlessly, his boot sweeping my legs out from under me. I barely had time to process the fall before his hand snatched my hood, stopping me mid-collapse like I weighed nothing.
That's when it hit me—this knight wasn't just strong. He wasn't just fast.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
The precision of his movements, the sheer ease with which he held me aloft, the way his grip felt completely unshakeable—he was a seasoned warrior, through and through.
My hood slipped back. A sharp silence fell over the clearing.
His helmet tilted slightly. "You're an elf?"
From where Silver still had him pinned, Kevin practically squeaked. "Wait, they actually exist?"
I didn't waste breath on an answer. If my ears were out, the situation had officially gone to hell.
Being half-elven meant more than just sharp senses—it meant being able to twist in ways humans couldn't. I torqued my body mid-air, snapping my leg up in a movement that should have been impossible. My boot slammed into Lance's jaw with enough force to rattle my bones.
He didn't even stumble.
But it was enough. My shawl tore, slipping through his fingers, and I hit the ground in a low crouch.
He loomed over me, seemingly unbothered.
We were seconds away from round two when Kevin's panicked voice cut through the standoff:
"Sir Lancelot—where's the other wolf?"
So that was name. Lancelot
Lancelot stiffened. They'd lost track of Ivory.
Which was very bad news for them.
From the underbrush, my clever wolf burst forth—and before the knights could react, his teeth clamped firmly, but not hard enough to break my skin, around my arm, swinging me onto her back in one smooth motion.
We bolted.
Wind whipped past me as I clung to Ivory's thick fur, heart pounding. As we sped away, I risked a glance down at my pocket.
Bugs. A few pebbles. My newly acquired bread, dried meat, and—of course—the bronze necklace.
Lance, still standing in the clearing, looked absolutely furious that I had once again gotten away with it.
"Sir Lancelot, no! Just leave them! We have more here!" Kevin called after him.
It should have ended there. It could have ended there.
But where's the fun in that?
I grinned, adrenaline thrumming through me as Ivory leapt over a fallen log, my stolen prize safely tucked away. How often do you get to outrun knights in a forest?
The chase was on. Again.
How fast do you think wolves can run? Pretty fast, right? Faster than horses, even.
And yet, here was this absolute unit of a knight, still behind us. Seven minutes in, and he wasn't stopping. He wasn't even slowing down.
Heavy armor. Massive sword. Thickest muscle mass I'd ever seen.
What kind of lunatic does this?
Sweat had to be pouring down his back. Yet he pushed on. Through the forest. Across streams. Over rocks.
What was so special about this stupid necklace?
Curiosity nagged at me. Maybe I should take another look—
That split second of distraction cost me.
I didn't notice my own weight, the brambles, the uneven ground—all of it had slowed Ivory just enough for Lance to catch up.
It happened fast.
Steel flashed. A deadly arc, aimed at Ivory's shoulder.
No.
I didn't think—I just moved.
Launching off my wolf, I threw myself straight at Lance. I didn't even have a plan beyond getting in his way. My fists weren't going to do much against full plate, but I swung anyway.
I hit him hard enough to knock him off balance. Not much, but enough.
His blade grazed Ivory, a thin red line welling up on her shoulder. Not deep, but enough to make her falter.
Rage flared hot in my chest.
I twisted, yanking the necklace free and holding it up like a toy for an overgrown dog. "Want this, big guy?"
Lance's eyes flicked to the necklace. Then to Ivory.
And something shifted.
For the first time, he felt angry.
A different kind of anger. Not just frustration. Not just irritation at some thief.
Something personal.
He charged.
And suddenly, this didn't feel like a game anymore.
. . .
Everything went south when we fell into the pit full of slime.
Lance lunged at me, and by our rotten luck, we both crashed straight through the forest floor.
Branches snapped, dirt crumbled, and suddenly, we were free-falling.
I had just enough time to register the deep claw marks in the soil walls before we slammed into the bottom.
The impact knocked the air from my lungs.
And then I noticed the slime.
Green blobs, no bigger than my hand, wriggled near the edges like the ones I saw in the morning. Red ones, the size of small pigs, pulsed hard, their movements jerky and unnatural.
But the purple ones—those were different.
They stood tall. My height, maybe taller. Their gelatinous bodies pulsed slow, like the steady inhale of some enormous beast. And the moment my gaze landed on them, my skin crawled with an instinctive wrongness.
"Just look what you've gotten yourself into," Lance muttered. He was already trying to scale the pit walls—good idea, except the dirt was too loose.
Then, with a clang, a heavy metal mesh slammed shut above us.
We were trapped.
"Ohh, what did I get?" a deep, throaty voice rumbled from above. "Goat? Deer? Hog?"
My gut twisted. That had to be our captor.
"Even better," the voice continued, suddenly gleeful. "Humans."
"And an elf," I added dryly.
A figure lumbered into view—a troll. Dark green skin, wart-infested face, a jaw so heavy it practically dragged his head down. Cracked fangs jutted from his mouth, yellowed with age.
My stomach sank as I finally took in the rest of the pit.
Bones. Dozens of them. Some old, some fresh. Stripped clean.
"How are you kind here, you foul beast?" Lance barked. He still sounded as commanding as ever, but even he had to realize how bad this was. "The Gate was supposed to keep you back!"
He pushed against the metal mesh with all his might. It didn't budge.
Meanwhile, the troll casually began heaving boulders onto the cage. He was sealing us in.
"I've never tasted human before," the troll said, licking his lips.
Lance gritted his teeth. "I said—how did you make it past the gates?"
The troll groaned, exasperated. "Gahh, fine, fine. I'll answer your stupid question." He reached into the pit and plucked up one of the small green slimes. It pulsed weakly in his grip. "Thanks to these fascinating little buggers."
Then he grinned.
"They dissolved the gates where you stupid humans kept us trapped in that barren land for so long—
"Then why are you here?" Lance interrupted. "You should be in the capital, eating big. Cattle, horses. What are you doing here?"
I didn't quite get what Lance was driving at.
"Ugh. Have you ever tried being original, you shiny scum?" The troll scoffed. "They've overrun the place. Everyone's fighting for the same food. Limited resources. I'm out here, thinking outside the box, living big." He punctuated his point by plucking a deer leg from who-knows-where and taking a bite.
"Or you're just too small," Lance countered coolly. "Trolls are supposed to be bigger. You're a dwarf troll. You just can't handle the competition."
I couldn't see Lance's face through his helmet, but somehow I could tell he was probably smirking.
"SHUT UP!" the troll bellowed, banging on the cage. "Look who's trapped in a pit, surrounded by hungry slime that will devour them in a couple of hours. Then I'll eat the best meal I've had in years. And look who's not!"
"Wait a second, you're going to eat slime?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Lance turned to me, confusion written all over his stance.
"No, I'm not just going to eat raw slime. That would kill me," the troll said, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips in anticipation. "These slime blobs will partially dissolve you first. Then I'll season what's left and roast it on a spit. You'll be tender and far more delicious than trying to chew through your stringy tendons."
". . . That's not a bad idea," I said thoughtfully. "I tried eating roasted slime this morning. Didn't taste as good as I'd hoped, though."
"You ate slime?!" Lance queried, his shock almost palpable.
"No, no, you can't just eat slime," the troll interjected, shaking his head like I'd suggested something absurd. "That's stupid. You'll die. That's how my crude cousin died—turned into a blob of slime the next day. You have to use it to dissolve meat first. Then season it. I use oregano, red-berry juice, and blood-tree bark. . ." The troll trailed off, listing spices like some kind of demented underground chef.
"Ooh, you should try adding sparrow curry for that tang," I chimed in, recalling a trick I used when cooking jerky.
"You do realize you're giving him more ideas on how to eat us, right?" Lance couldn't seem to grasp the culinary brilliance of species other than his own.
"Anyways," the troll continued, picking his teeth. "I'm going for a walk. Maybe I'll find more things I can eat. You'll be more slime than people soon. Perfect pickings." He ended with a grin that revealed cracked, blunt brown teeth—some riddled with holes, others barely hanging on.
As his heavy stomps faded into the distance, we sat in silence. The slime squished and squelched around us, tickling my skin in the most unsettling way.
"Why are you even still wearing your armor? It's not going to do anything now," I said exasperatedly. He just lay there like a statue… of a knight in armor.
"This slime is exactly why my armor stays on," Lance said, as stoic as ever. "The slime only eats organic matter. That's what we've learned. Plants, wood, animals, humans. But it can't chew through metal. That's why we always wear these."
"…That kind of makes sense."
We lapsed back into silence.
"Can you give me my necklace now?" Lance asked, breaking the quiet.
"Fine. No point in keeping it if we're going to die anyway," I muttered, fishing it from my pocket and tossing it to him.
"Ha. You're the only one dying. I'll just pretend I'm dead. Slather myself with slime. Go limp. When he picks me up, I'll attack and kill him. Meanwhile, you'll be... dissolved. I wonder if it's painful."
So candid.
He ran his fingers over the necklace's surface, absentmindedly tracing its details. Now that I got a good look at it, I realized it was a shield, shaped like a heart, with a lion's face embossed in bas-relief.
"You remind me of her. She gave me this necklace." His voice softened, like he was sifting through memories better left buried. "She was wild like you. Always did what you'd never expect. She was fun. Ha. I haven't been fun lately."
He turned to me, tone lightening just a fraction. "You're a crazy person. But that was an… interesting chase."
I didn't know how to respond. Sentimentality wasn't my strong suit. But yeah, it had been fun.
I laughed. He laughed too.
"You're a little too relaxed for someone about to die," he said.
"You too"
"I'm not dying, remember? Armor. You're the only one not making it out of here alive."
I sighed and turned my head to the side.
"You're really okay with dying here?"
I didn't want to answer. But yes, I was okay. Life in the wild wasn't supposed to be easy, but I had made it far enough. Twenty years.
After a while, I finally spoke.
"Yes, I'm okay with dying here. I fought, I stole, I was selfish. I did what I wanted with no one to control me. I lived." A pause. "I was happy. At least, I thought so. I'm not so sure anymore."
Lance was silent for a while. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head, working through something he wasn't saying out loud.
"Hopefully, it won't come to that," he finally said.
I was about to ask why when I heard it.
The heavy footfalls of something massive. The clatter of armor. Howls. And a scream.
"Sir Lancelot! Are you here?" a voice called. Kevin. How had he found us?
Lance waved his hand through one of the grate holes. Then came the bellow.
"You've come to be my lunch, little boy?" the troll howled hysterically, emerging from the forest and rubbing his belly.
I peeked through the grate to see what was happening. Kevin was... on Ivory! He was riding her like a horse? How could she allow this?? Silver prowled toward us, trying to push the boulders pinning the cage down. She winced when her injured shoulder touched the rock. She couldn't do it alone. But with a couple of grunts and pushes from Lance, they managed to create some leeway, enough to shift the second boulder.
Soon, we'd have room to squeeze out and escape.
It was only then I truly noticed what the slime was doing to me. It wasn't painful, but it definitely wasn't good. The blobs squelched eagerly against my skin, their gelatinous forms clinging like leeches. I peeled them off in sticky strands, but bits still clung stubbornly. The exposed skin was pinkish, slightly recessed compared to the untouched areas. It was eating me. Slowly. I needed to get out—fast.
I looked down and my stomach lurched. My foot was swallowed up by one of the larger purple blobs. Panic flared as I yanked it free, but not before my boot partially disintegrated. The slime had already started eating at my skin, leaving it raw and stinging. If I hadn't noticed in time, it would've been much worse.
"Can you guys try helping us escape any faster?" I snapped, my voice edged with frustration.
"Sure, once you start helping," Lance grumbled, as dry as ever.
I didn't have time for his attitude. Peering through the cage's gaps, I focused on Kevin's fight with the troll. To my surprise, he was holding his own—thanks to Ivory.
Even with his practically broken wooden sword and battered shield, Kevin darted around the troll, weaving and scrambling to avoid getting squashed. He was too small and quick for the troll's brute strength to land a solid hit. I had to wonder where he'd learned to fight like that.
But it was Ivory who kept him in the fight. She bit, clawed, and nipped at the troll's legs, seizing any opportunity to deal damage. They moved in sync: Kevin would strike to create an opening for Ivory, and she'd return the favor. Their teamwork was unexpectedly impressive.
Still, they couldn't keep it up forever.
"What are they doing? They can't beat a troll," I muttered.
"They aren't trying to," Lance said evenly, finally wedging the second boulder out of place. Silver gave a low growl and stepped aside as Lance extended his sword, tearing through the gate. We were finally out—and not reduced to slime soup.
I got it now. It was obvious. They weren't trying to kill the troll; they were buying us time to escape.
Lance climbed out of the pit, swiping slime off his armor. He adjusted his helmet and shield, then readied his sword with a calm, determined air.
"This is the part where we escape, right?" I asked hopefully.
"This is the part where we neutralize the threat," Lance replied. Classic knight.
Without a yell or battle cry, he stepped into the fight.
His timing was perfect. Kevin was pinned to the ground, the troll's massive, gnarly foot pressing down on his splintering shield. Kevin's back was against the dirt, the troll's nasty toes dangling inches from his face. It wouldn't be long before Kevin's defense gave out completely.
Then Lance struck.
I didn't even hear the blade make contact—just a spray of blood and the sight of three fingers flying through the air.
The troll howled in rage, swinging his massive arm at Lance, but Lance's shield was ready. He absorbed the impact, readjusted his stance, and struck again. His blade sliced deep into the troll's leg, leaving a wide, crimson gash in less than a second.
Now they actually stood a chance. Silver and Ivory kept biting, Kevin kept darting in with his nearly broken sword and shield, and Lance handled the heavy lifting. His strikes were precise, his stance unshaken—absorbing every blow with unrelenting focus.
But all of it was pointless. There was no need to keep fighting. Not while I was here.
I reached for my bow, the twisted blood-tree wood firm in my grip. The quiver slung across my back held only one arrow, but that was all I needed.
The troll's movements were erratic, its hulking form thrashing, but all it took was a single second. The perfect moment.
It came.
I let the arrow loose.
The shot drove clean through the stem of the troll's spine, severing it. A heartbeat later, the tip embedded into his skull. His massive body stiffened. His face froze mid-snarl. Then, with a final shudder, he collapsed—dead before he even hit the ground.
Silver padded over and clamped her jaws around the troll's severed hand, giving it a few experimental shakes, just to be sure.
"Well, that was easier than I thought it'd be," Kevin muttered, staring at the body.
Lance sighed, shaking his head at me before turning to Kevin. His voice leveled, suddenly all business. "How did you know where to find us, Sir Kevin?"
Kevin straightened, adjusting his battered helmet. Through the cracks, I caught a glimpse of his caramel-toned skin, his scraggly mustache, and the crooked bridge of his nose. "Tracked your footprints. Wolf's too. You guys ran way too far. Then we saw Ivory's injured shoulder, and Silver caught your scent. From there, it was just following the trail to this range."
Lance nodded along, impressed. Please. Anyone could do that.
"Good work, Kevin," he said. "You mapped the escape route at the market, led the civilians to safety, set up camp, carried the luggage, tracked us down, and defended against a troll. Most would've quit. I would've let them. But you impressed me. It's unofficial, given the circumstances, but I think it's time you became a real knight."
Kevin's face lit up, but when Lance added, "And that means a real sword," he practically leaped for joy.
I crossed my arms. "Um, hello? I'm the one who actually killed the troll?"
Lance finally looked at me. His eyes narrowed slightly, and then his expression shifted, like he just realized something.
"Huh," he said. "We never introduced ourselves, did we?"
I raised a brow. "Oh, we didn't?
Lance ignored my sarcasm and straightened. His tone turned obnoxiously formal. "My apologies. I am Sir Lancelot Lionheart—" Oh, so that's why the necklace made sense. "—Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Pridefall. Sworn protector of the royal family and their majesties."
His voice hitched slightly on the last part, but he covered it well.
Kevin stared blankly until Lance nudged him. "And I am Kevin Rein, squire—" Another nudge, harder this time. "Knight of the Kingdom of Pridefall." He bowed, though it looked more like a reflex than a habit.
"This is the part where you introduce yourself too," Lance added.
I huffed. I was not bowing. I was not playing along with their little theatrics.
"I am Fee. I'm a half-elf. And I think it's time you got out of my forest."
Lance snorted. "Your forest?"
I met his gaze, unblinking.
"You don't own the whole place," he continued. "In fact, we should be arresting you for stealing and fighting with a Royal Guard."
"Yeah…" I lifted an eyebrow. "Your kingdom doesn't seem stable enough to take prisoners. Considering you're leading civilians to safety and fighting crime in the markets."
A pause stretched between us.
Then, his tone hardened. "That's why we're here. Before we got distracted by you. We're this far out of the kingdom because we're looking for something. Something that can help us against this slime invasion."
I blinked. Invasion?
So that was what the slime blobs earlier were. I thought.
The word felt foreign on my tongue. Even after twenty years in these woods, humans still found ways to surprise me.
Lance's posture stiffened, the last rays of sunlight glinting off his armor. "The slime spreads through our kingdom like poison. First, it was just small patches in the fields. Then entire crops vanished overnight. Now?" He lifted a boot, the remnants of purple ooze still clinging to the leather. "It devours everything in its path. The kingdom's heart is the worst—people, food, buildings. It's a feast for these creatures."
I crossed my arms. "And you think the answer's out here?"
Lance exhaled sharply. "We had walls once. The Gate held back creatures like that troll. But the slime ate through it all." His voice dropped slightly, that formal edge cracking. "Now… every hour we waste, more people die. And you've cost us plenty today."
His tone hardened again as he turned. "Kevin, we're leaving."
Kevin hesitated, one hand still resting on Ivory's flank. My wolf whined as he finally stepped away, something in my chest tightening—but I ignored it. Watched as they disappeared into the lengthening shadows.
The sun hung low, bleeding through the trees as I made my way home.
This morning, Silver had caught a hare. Was it really just this morning? Felt like a lifetime ago.
I roasted the meat over a small fire, the wolves curled around me like living blankets, and tried to forget about knights and slimes and crumbling kingdoms.
The fire had burned to embers when I heard it.
A scream.
High, desperate.
Silver lifted her head, ears twitching. Ivory tensed beside her, muscles coiled.
Then—again. Smaller. Weaker. A child?
I exhaled slowly, pressing my palm against Silver's ruff.
"Stay," I ordered, snatching up my bow.
Won't be long.
The trail was clear enough—broken twigs, scattered leaves, the panic of prey in flight. Someone small, light. Barefoot. I moved fast, heart pounding against my ribs.
Then, in the clearing, I found her.
A tiny thing, dark hair with purple tips, matted to tear-streaked cheeks. Her eyes were wide, too wide, locked on the hulking purple mass oozing toward her with horrible patience.
No.
"Move!" I shouted.
She didn't. Fear had rooted her in place, her small fingers curled against the dirt.
My arrow struck true, splitting the slime apart with an inhuman shriek. The girl stumbled back, caught her foot on a root, and went down hard.
Damn it.
The slime reformed, undaunted.
I loosed another arrow, cursing my own stupidity. I should have circled back. I should have—
No time. I sprinted forward.
She weighed nothing in my arms, all bird-bones and terror.
"Hold on," I muttered, more to myself than to her. Then I ran.
I crashed through the underbrush, branches slashing at my arms.
And then, because the forest had a cruel sense of humor, I saw it.
Firelight.
Lance and Kevin. My wolves already bristling at their sides.
Lance's sword cleared its sheath in one fluid motion.
"Fee?" His voice carried equal parts disbelief and resignation as he took in the girl in my arms and the monster at our heels. "Oh, for the love of the Queen—"
"Shut up and do your thing!" I snapped, shoving the girl toward Kevin. "Take her!"
Kevin caught her, his face a mix of confusion and determination. The wolves flanked me as Lance stepped forward, shield raised.
"It's just slime," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Focus."
He advanced, cutting and hacking with practiced precision. The slime screeched and recoiled, but it wasn't a fight we could sustain. Each part that was cut off turned green and keep coming.
"Fire!" Kevin shouted. "We need fire!"
Lance gritted his teeth. "We're in the middle of the woods, Kevin!"
"Then figure it out!" I yelled, loosing another arrow. My bloodtree bow had never failed me before, but now it felt useless. Every shot slowed the slime, but it wasn't enough.
Then, suddenly, movement—Ivory lunged forward, dragging a burning branch from our dying campfire. She swung it with surprising agility, singeing the slime's tendrils. It recoiled, hissing, before retreating into the darkness.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The girl clung to Kevin, her tiny hands gripping his torn tunic. She looked at me with wide eyes, her lips trembling.
"You saved me," she whispered. "You're a hero."
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest. It wasn't gratitude or relief—it was something sharper. More intoxicating.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore it.
"What's your name?" I asked, my voice harsher than I intended.
"…Meili."
"Where are your parents?" Lance asked gently.
Meili's face fell. "Gone."
She looked straight at me when she said it.
Lance exhaled, his expression grim. This was what he'd meant. This was the kingdom falling apart.
"Well," I said, surprising myself, "you can't stay out here alone."
I turned to Lance, ignoring the way my stomach twisted. "You said you needed someone who knows the forest? I'm in. But she comes with us."
Lance stared. Then—
"Really?" He scoffed. "You haven't exactly been cooperative in the entire afternoon I've known you."
I ignored the sarcasm. "It makes sense to join your party. I can attack from a distance, the wolves can patrol and catch scents we can't. Honestly, you need us."
"Uh-huh," Lance said, unimpressed.
I rolled my eyes. "And if this 'slime' is going to spread through the forest eventually. Might as well try to help."
Lance sighed, rubbing his temple. "That's about what I expected to hear." He sheathed his sword with a soft click.
The firelight caught his helmet, and for a split second, I thought I saw his face.
"We're going to see an old. . .friend," he said. "An ammunition expert. If fire's the only thing that can destroy slime, he's our best shot. You're all coming."
The wolves huffed in unison, clearly unimpressed. I felt the same. But the girl's words still echoed in my mind.
A hero.
Was that what I wanted to be?
I glanced at Meili, then at the others.
"Fine," I muttered. "But this doesn't mean we're friends."
Lance chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it. We head out tomorrow. Tonight, we camp."