John couldn’t sleep that night. It was not merely the fact he was so far from home. It was not merely the fact he had just witnessed an atrocity. It was the snoring. Yael snored through the night. Rattling like a machinegun eating through belt after belt. John had many nights like this, just not for some years.

  He gives up and decides to watch the flames. Daytime was so scorching, the last thing he expected he would be huddling towards was a roaring flame. Now, if not for this fire, he’d be freezing. In death there is life and in life, death. This world is no different in that regard. Jonathan looks up at the sky. The stars are entirely different. He has studied the stars in every hemisphere. None of them show. It really starts to dawn on him how far away he really is.

  “AAAAAAAHHH!”

  There is a scream off in the distance. It sounds like a woman in trouble. John acts without thought. Making no effort to wake Yael or secure a rifle. He runs out into the sand towards the screams. It’s pitch black. The sand makes his footing insecure. He’s marched through worse. Rushing towards someone in need is better than rushing towards bullets. John does start to regret not bringing a torch. He isn’t in France anymore.

  The screaming continues. Getting closer with every step. He has no idea how a woman ended up in danger in the middle of nowhere. Then again, he still has no idea how he got here either. That part doesn’t matter until everyone is safe. It does not take long for the screaming to be so loud and distinct, it is but one sand dune away. John crosses over it, crawling on his hands and knees to move as quickly as he can up the steep, soft mound. Until he crosses over the top.

  “I’m here! I can help… you.”

  There is nothing but more sand. John slides down the dune. Trying to see if there is someone he has missed.

  “AAAAAAAHHH!”

  The scream comes from under the sands. They have been buried! John digs in the sand where the sound erupted. Desperately he moves handfuls of sand out of the way. An eye appears. A large, glassy, black eye. Surrounded by eight more. This is not a woman.

  Three long, whip-like tails each with a sharp stinger spring from the sands. Jonathan is forced to leap back into the dune to not be cut to ribbons. A new dune forms before him as a great mass arises. Below the grains is a chitinous beast of immense size. A scorpion that rivals a rhinoceros in girth turns its nine eyes towards new prey. Small claws clacking around a complex multi-part insect maw. It looks hungry.

  “AAAAAAAHHH!”

  That settles it for John. This monstrosity must lure its prey by mimicking the distressed. A truly insidious strategy. One that seems unnecessary given its obvious lethality. No sooner has the last grain of sand slid off its smooth shell does the beast attack. It is faster than it might appear. Charging forward on a dozen legs to bring John within claws grasp. Instinct takes over once again. His fist moves before John commands it. Landing his knuckle on the right, lower left eye. It falls back, but does not fly like Yael. Screeching in pain as blue blood spurts from the fresh wound.

  Whip tails retaliate. Flailing rapidly, causing a loud supersonic crack with each strike. One gets a lucky slash, cutting into John’s skin. Another sticks its point into his arm, embedding itself deeply. John makes sure to grab this tail, yanking it out of his bicep. With both hands firmly around the tail, he pulls his hardest. Ripping it from the base. The monster screams. Still pretending to be the victim.

  The old days on the farm start to pay off. Whipping is paid for with whipping. The Fiend’s own weapon is turned against it as John slashes out another black eye. More slashes push the Fiend back. Finding itself outmatched by a three time Jr. Rodeo trick whip winner. It turns its bleeding face to the sands, whipping up a mini storm that blinds John for a brief few seconds. When the sands return to rest, the Fiend is gone.

  John regrets not bringing a flame all the more. He swings left to right to left again. Paranoid that the monster will strike from behind at any given time in whatever direction behind happens to be. Then it occurs to John. When he first found the Fiend, it was beneath the sands.

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  A claw shoots out from below the grains. Piercing into John’s left thigh. It pulls him down, attempting to drown him with earth. John grabbed the claw and pulled back. His strength is now facing off against the Fiend’s. A tug-o-war for keeps. One he is slowly winning. Forcing the Fiend upwards enough that its battered face is just above the sand line. There is only one reasonable response to an annoying insect. Stomp it to death.

  John strikes downward with his right leg. His leather shoe, already old and worn, exploded at its seams from the sheer force. John’s heel drives into the Fiend’s face and cracks its chitinous armor as if a carpenter’s hammer upon a chicken egg. He follows with another stomp just as harsh. Then five more for good measure. By the time he is satisfied with his work, there is nothing left of the Fiend’s head but a blue stain and scattered shards.

  John forces the claw open. Far easier now that there is no strength behind it. He struggles to his feet. The wound is deep and bleeding profusely. The whip tail once again came to use. Acting as an impromptu rope that he ties around his thigh to slow the bleeding. Off in the distance, the fire still burns. It was a long, hard run to get out here when both his legs worked. Now limping, the trek back may take all night. If John lasts so long.

  “AAAAAAAHHH!”

  Another scream from what he now knows is no woman in peril. He turns to see more Fiends. At least four, perhaps more, approached him in the darkness. It took near everything he had to defeat just one of these monstrous beasts. As he is now, there is no hope to survive.

  “I told you-”

  A familiar voice comes from over the large dune. A flaming torch flies from over the other side, followed by many more.

  “-to stay near the fire!”

  Yael climbs over, an especially large torch in one hand and many sticks in his other. He brings the two together and tosses the now fire bearing sticks all across the ground. The Fiends reel back, terrified by its burning light, and run back to the darkness that is their domain. Yael, satisfied they are safe once more, inspects John’s wounds.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Are you that ignorant? The Night Fiends were screaming their ugly bug heads off. When I saw you were not near the fire, it was obvious what happened. I know Fiend ale is addictive. Just had no idea you were so weak of will.”

  “Fiend ale?”

  Yael grabs a bottle full of a viscous purple liquid and pours it over John’s wounds. It stings like salt in his open wounds, foaming rapidly, then soothes.

  “Yeah, Fiend Ale. Made from Fiend venom. Is that not why you were hunting them? What other possible reason could you have to come anywhere close to those killers?”

  “I… I thought there was another of me in trouble. A woman.”

  Yael’s face is equal parts disdain and pity.

  “That is what your females sound like? I feel I would rather be single.”

  Yael looks closer at the wounded leg. Concern filling his golden eyes.

  “Was this a claw wound?”

  “Yes. Is that bad?”

  “The claws are poisonous. You will be dead within the hour if we do not act fast. Here. Eat this.”

  Yael holds out a small, round, black nub of some foul smelling gunk. It looks and smells like melted rubber. With death not far away, John has no choice but to eat it as he was told. The taste is about on par with the other offended sense. He swallows it regardless.

  “Will this cure me?”

  “Yes. Assuming you survive.”

  “What? What did you give me?”

  “A Ruatt home remedy. I do not know the name myself. Only that it works. I have my own experiences with the Night Fiends. I would brace myself, if I were you. Your night got far rougher.”

  The effect hits like a runaway locomotive. John's body shifts from freezing cold to searing heat with mere seconds between. It feels as though he swallowed an angry porcupine that is trying desperately to gnaw its way out. He goes blind and his ears ring endlessly. It is fortunate he has not eaten since having that red fruit many hours ago. Or else there would have been even more digested foods to evacuate from his mouth.

  “That is it. Let it all out. I will make sure you are all better.”

  Yael lifts John, making sure he is far away enough that the bile and other liquids that will soon be coming out in a short time do not touch him. He takes a moment to look at the dead Night Fiend. Few could survive such an encounter. Even fewer with their bare hands.

  “I think we will be of great use to each other.”