Maris crouched low behind a large bush as she stared at the glowing fire. She knew she should do something, either approach or sneak past, but her first encounter with the horrors of this forest had put quite the damper on her sense of adventure. She could almost feel Locke’s disapproval of her indecision. The Titan would want her to get moving. But her nauseous stomach and numbing fear had paralyzed her. She’d never seen so many dead bodies, let alone those in such terrible condition. What could possibly have inflicted those kinds of wounds? Maris nearly retched again at the thought of all that torn flesh, the blood...that smell. Her gaze refocused on the fire, the girl trying desperately to get a hold on her composure. 

She thought again about what kind of person would make camp in the middle of such a grisly battlefield. No. This hadn’t been a battle. It was a massacre. Whatever had done this to these soldiers was a force to be reckoned with. The poor souls clearly hadn’t stood a chance. Shuddering again, she forced herself to think instead of the unknown camper. She’d been sitting here for a couple hours, and he still hadn’t shown himself. The fire was well-tended and strong, so he had to be nearby. She didn’t feel any waves in the air that would indicate he was moving in her direction, but she figured she was far enough away from the camp that her new sense wouldn’t pick up on him even if he were.

Her newfound powers were certainly interesting. The walk through the forest had given her time to test them a bit. Her teleporting puddle didn’t reach very far--she could only travel about ten feet in any direction. She’d discovered that range when she came upon the first mangled body. She had nearly tripped over it, and was so shocked at the extent of the mutilation that her first thought was to get as far away from it as possible, as fast as possible. The puddle flooded beneath her immediately and she had reappeared ten feet back on her path before she had time to squeak in fear. She covered her face for a moment, recovering from the awful sight, then slowly made her way back to the dead man. He was barely recognizable as a man, his face so torn and bloody that she could only just make out masculine features. He was missing an arm, and his right leg was twisted so that his foot faced backwards, almost comically balanced on the tip of his blood-soaked boot. Maris couldn’t imagine what had done this kind of damage, and from then on she didn’t tarry long on her walk. 

Until, that is, she sensed a dying woman. She felt the tiniest of ripples in the air, indicating a very small, very slight movement, and although she was afraid, her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed the movement, being careful not to make any noise. She reasoned that such a small movement couldn’t possibly be anything terribly dangerous, though she gripped her trident a little tighter as she drew nearer to the source. Maris smelled her before she saw her, the metallic stench of blood overwhelming her nostrils, making her gag until she wrapped her scarf around her nose and mouth, breathing shallowly. She was dressed in a uniform identical to the dead man’s, marking her as a soldier as well. Her dark hair was torn out in chunks, and bits of her scalp had been ripped from her head. A long, deep gash sliced its way from one temple to the corner of her mouth, giving her a grotesque lopsided grin. But the true horror was her chest. Three long slashes opened her torso from shoulders to hips. Her armor had been destroyed, and her body was bare from the waist up. One breast was missing, the other was sliced in half. She was staring up at Maris with eyes glazed over in pain. How she was still alive, Maris had no idea. The woman’s chest fluttered with her last breaths, making the halves of her remaining breast shake. This was the movement Maris had sensed. The girl turned and emptied her stomach in a nearby shrub, the sight at last too much for her. She stayed bent over for a moment, trembling in shock, sudden tears stinging her eyes. Her trident shook in her hand. She thought to end the woman’s suffering, and slowly turned back around, not eager for the task, but when she looked back down, the soldier was already dead. 

Maris trembled again as she remembered the look on the dead woman’s face. She’d looked relieved, like she hadn’t wanted to die alone and had miraculously got her wish. Maris was lost in this bitter thought, and so did not sense the movement of the strange camper just behind her.