She led them on a mad dash. Outrunning them too much could cause them to give up. This wouldn’t do, not at all. Letting them tail behind, hot on her heels, their boots thundered down the road. A stretched-out arm, nearly within grasp of her cloak. Torches, wavering.

  They had just gotten outside of the village before stamina started to wane. No longer sprinting at full speed, Rona had to match their rhythm. Just a little further, and they had reached the countryside. They were now slowing down to a jogging pace.

  This is when she turned off into a field onto the grass, and they pushed on behind. There was heavy panting filling the air. It had soon become a vast flat expanse that they found themselves in upon arriving at the next old stone wall across the field. By this time, they were pretty much walking, each step toiling against the grass.

  There were no stars; there rarely ever were. In fact, Rona had only ever seen them a handful of times. Torches fluttered, visible for legions around, looking like fireflies. They had finally reached her last stop. She had staggered to a halt, standing in the ruins of a barn. It had all but worn down to nubbed walls.

  The ginger one that had no torch was right behind. She half turned towards them, and he swung a haymaker. It had connected fully to her mouth, and it slammed her to the earth. The metallic taste of blood soon gushed, and she spat it out. “Where do you think you were off to?”

  Muscles tensed up as it braced. The crony with a singed face took a run to kick her hard into the side. “Not so tough now, are ya?!”This flipped onto her shoulder, coiling into a ball.

  The next one came up and booted her into the back. Seemingly, she writhed around in pain.”Harlot!”

  They crowded around, and what came next was a blur; they all proceeded to stomp on her. Repeatedly. All over. “Alright, that’s enough!” Commanded the ginger guard.

  Rona couldn’t make out which one had said this over the deafening din of her own ear in agony. They continued to talk amongst themselves, murmuring underwater. Now that they had stopped, it was clear they were discussing new plans since she lay at their feet, spirit most likely broken.

  This is what he had come to. This exact moment. Something passed overhead. With it came a short, sharp, blustering rush of wind. The torches went out in an instant. After the sudden rip of air passed, one of them spoke up,” What was that?!”

  Then came a low jarring rumble. It was close enough in the next field. Swords unsheath followed by a dull shunting. Something long and sharp had pierced through a body. A clang of a steel blade as it landed flat on the ground. One man began to scream, but the noise quickly receded away from Rona. She swallowed a mouthful of blood and wiped the remainder on a tuft of grass. Four guards stood outwards around her, instilled with fear.

  The man’s screams were cut short by a harrowing crunching. It repeated in waves, each time a squelching grew. The sheer shock of this froze the guards to the spot. Incapacitated, unable to further organise themselves. There is a gap in their formation, the missing guard who had kicked Rona in the back. Lying on her side, she tucked in her legs, rolling backwards through their gap.

  By then, a moment of silence fell. Disrupted by a guard who decided to make a break for it. You could audibly hear him trying to run with his panicked breathing as he was making his way back. It was waiting. A coarse slithering, earth churned. It circled, then went away. Homing towards the straggler, it was gaining fast. As a last gambit, he dove forward onto the grass. It ploughed through him in an instant. Cries ringing out and lasting longer than his body did.

  Sweat slicked the remaining guards’ faces. “What are we gunna do Fitch!?” one man desperately whispered. It took a few seconds for Fitch to respond.

  “Close ranks, hunker down.” It seemed like he was also a captain. There was scuffling as they regrouped into defensive stances.

  You could no longer hear the monster clearly, and the way it travelled became more distant. “Let’s just go now before it comes back!” said one of the other guards.

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  “No, it’s waiting for us. Don’t be a fool.” Fitch snapped.

  She side-rolled over to the nearest barn’s ruined wall. It was pitch black night without any torches. They were trembling, barely holding it together. Except, for Rona, who was bringing her heart under control.

  It came from beneath. The ground gave way to rows of sharp mandibles and teeth engulfing some man’s legs. With nothing left to stand on, he collapsed forward onto the ground. Pooling blood very quickly. Lying there, life flowing away fast, the creature reared up and slashed at another guard. The tip of its razor-bladed tail sliced straight through his throat in an instant.

  You could hear his neck spraying out as he fell to his knees, gurgling. Rona shrouded herself in a dark cloak. Fitch was the last left and the only one with enough of a chance to react. He drove his sword inside the wurm’s mouth; the blade burrowed deep. It was stuck there being clenched, rings of muscles contorted and twisted. It pulled his hand into the lining of razor-sharp teeth.

  Fitch wailed in abject agony; it closed in around his hand immediately and started dragging him in. Soon, his arm succumbed to the same torture. Lots of little teeth grasped at him, shredding at his skin and flesh. The teeth wriggled up his arm to his shoulder. Stuckfast like the sword. The outer mandibles began to claw along the shoulder and neck.

  The wailing grew weaker, unable to let out the immense suffering anymore. Helplessly trapped, it grappled his head and just managed to get a grip of it inside. Then came the graphic squelching of flesh again, followed by the sound of it hitting bone. The crunching of his skull felt dreadful as the harsh vibration of the noises travelled.

  A bitter fate met horrifyingly slow, Rona would not want this end for any person. Yet, much to her shame, it was mostly planned like this. She had learnt that any wet blood, fear, movement and noise is enough to lure certain menacing creatures from the night. This also operated on another huge risk, that Fitch would keep the necklace on him and that it wouldn’t get swallowed by a monster along with the man himself.

  The wretched thing was consuming him at a much slower pace than the first guard. A fair assumption could be that it was the sword lodged in its guts. A critical decision had to be made: wait it out and hope for the best or stop it from likely eating the necklace. Rona really didn’t want to intervene as it would prove fatal, but if she had to, then she would at least wait until the last possible second to do so.

  Given that the bonechilling crunching was starting to subside and give way to more fleshy squelching sounds, Rona deduced that it had reached the base of his neck. It is safe to say that Fitch would not be wearing the necklace or have it stashed somewhere on his arm, she also hoped.

  Something interrupted the creature, it let the body fall limp to the ground as its body began to lurch. It heaved a vile liquid that hissed when it landed on the ground. It squirmed, letting out a shrill shriek and heaved again. It continued until it expelled the remnants of a corroded steel sword.

  It writhed around, still in pain, flicking spatters of acidic bile. It eventually fled back into the night. Rona breathed a heavy sigh, relieved. It would still be several hours until the crack of dawn, but until then, it was safest for her to stay put and keep her head down.

  After waiting for all sounds to dissipate, Rona crawled out from the nub of wall that she was lying next to. The spatter of blood had dried by now; however, puddles needed to be avoided at all costs. So, this meant taking time to feel around in the pitch black. When a fingertip got wet, it would immediately be wiped and before changing course. On elbows and knees, she found the body that was known as Fitch.

  Since Rona first fell to the ground, she had retreated behind a mental blockade, refusing to deal with the sheer nature of what was happening. As if the part of her shrank into the recesses of her soul, she started to go through the motions, searching his pockets, pouches and bandoliers. A half-eaten apple, a few keys, some crones, matches, his captain’s signet for wax seals, paper, charcoal, and a small knife, but no jewellery yet.

  Her hands traced every seam and stitch until she unfastened the top on the gambeson. It was drenched, but underneath, there was something. The leather string was chewed off, so she lifted the attached pouch and shook it to hear a faint jingling inside. She hurriedly wiped away any of the wet blood before opening it and feeling the disctinct metalic laces with teardrops. In the middle, a hard, multi-faceted stone with two similar smaller stones on either side.

  When Rona pocketed it, its heftiness was still evident. She scurried back over, lying down next to the cover and cloaking herself again. Soon, fiends arrived to feast. The popping of joints as limbs were ripped out, the gnashing of flesh and bone was a cacophonous chorus. Trying to mentally block out the noises, it still rattled beneath her skin. It took them a few hours to devour everything, leaving behind only their tattered apparel.

  At last, the sky began to pale. The surroundings became more visible. Minutes flew by in seconds until it was bright enough for Rona to leave. In her trance, she did not check the piles of rags for anything useful. Instead, her legs carried her away on a set path.