Eyes wide, frozen, stuck open. 

She had come here to seek help...

She had barely escaped the creature chasing her in the wood, she finally evaded it by crossing the river into a tight thicket of trees and bushes. Nature slowed the thing down enough. Yet, her escape was futile, she now saw a dozen or more of the same shadowy monstrosity tearing her homeland apart. There were neat little piles of flesh and cloths, little streams of blood in the street, screams in the distance of whomever was left… they would not last long. How could they? This was an ordinary and peaceful place, they were not warriors, they were not wizards. They relied on just those people to protect them, despite the fact that there was hardly one to be seen in the village. They had wrongly assumed that their little corner of the countryside was safe.

“Hey Cabbage Girl!” a gruff voice brought her back to her senses. She looked up and saw familiar orc and her heart turned from despair to joy. He was a green island of hope.

“M-M-MAL!” She was quick-footed, and raced across the clearing toward him. She had to jump over several bodies to reach him, she tried not to look, but couldn’t help it they were... [i]Betty the soon-to-be-bakers wife, Rolf the shepherd with a slight limp and a charming smile…[/i] all gone. 

She rushed to Mal’s side, and would have hugged him, were her arms not already filled with her quivering injured rat-pet. Raty squeaked quietly every so often, but mostly kept his face pressed into her chest. 

“Thank the swamp-mother you're alright!” It was amazing to her that anyone could fight these strange things. They seemed impossible, contrary to nature. Yet, the bold Malakus seemed to handle them easily enough. There was a glint in his eye, as if found swatting evil monsters was a good sport.

She wanted to shut her eyes and turn away, but feared that they might take her and Mal by surprise. She turned her back toward him, eyes wide. “W… What happened, Mal?” She would keep close to his side if he stayed or if he ran off. She imagined that she might be safe under the wide arc of his lumberjack’s axe. Would they flee? Would they seek Mal’s parents? Whatever the answer she would follow. There did not seem to be many survivors left, but if Mal had survived the onslaught, then maybe someone else had found a way to fight the beasts…