The impact was cataclysmic. The branch beneath their feet shuddered violently, a deep groan echoing through the Bentree's ancient wood.
Where the mutant had stood, there was now only a mangled mess of exoskeleton and pulped flesh, the sheer weight of the falling timber having crushed it instantly. The air hung thick with the smell of crushed vegetation and the creature's body.
"Finally," Vlad exhaled, his body going slump.
Lana, who had barely scrambled out of the way, stood frozen for a heartbeat, her breath ragged. Then, her gaze snapped to Vlad, who lay slumped against the bark, his face pale and streaked with blood. She rushed to his side.
"Hey, you okay?" Her voice was tight with concern as she gently tapped his cheek. "Stay with me."
"Yeah... I'm alright... ah, that hurts!" He winced, then tried to push himself up. "I can still stand... I think."
Lana let out a shaky breath, relief warring with lingering fear. She slid her shoulder beneath his arm, pulling him up.
She half-carried, half-dragged him towards the massive trunk of the Bentree, its immense girth offering the illusion of stability on their treacherous perch.
"You're heavier than you look."
Vlad didn't respond. Perhaps the pain stole his voice…
She leaned him against the rough bark. His breathing was shallow and ragged. His left arm hung at an unnatural angle. A grim determination hardened Lana's features. They weren't safe yet. The screech of the flying creature, though distant, was a chilling reminder.
"Your arm looks like hell," Lana said, glancing down at the twisted limb.
Vlad gave a tight breath, almost a laugh.
"Feels worse."
She crouched beside him, studying his face.
"Can you still move?"
"Not fast. Not well. But yeah."
She gave a sharp nod.
"Good. I'm not carrying you again."
Then, her voice dropped, softer, steadier.
"Wait here for a second," she murmured, her tone softening slightly. "I need to get my sword back."
Her eyes fell on her longsword, still partially embedded in the mangled remains of the mutant. With a surge of strength, she wrenched it free, the blade slick with purple blood. The weight of the familiar weapon felt reassuring in her hand.
But something felt off. She took a closer look, the mutant was trembling. Even with its guts crushed the bastard still held onto dear life. Its remaining eye, clouded and broken, flickered open for a horrifying instant, fixing on her with a flicker of primal hate.
Without a word, her gaze, which had been fixed on the grim task below, snapped upwards. The immense, bird-like creature was no longer a distant silhouette. It was circling closer, its vast wings casting ominous shadows that danced across the crimson leaves.
A cold dread washed over Lana, eclipsing the adrenaline of the fight. They weren't safe. Not by a long shot. The crushed mutant, still twitching with unnatural tenacity, was a testament to the resilience of these horrors. And the circling predator above promised a threat from a completely different dimension.
***
Vlad leaned against the massive trunk of the Bentree, every breath sharp, every muscle aching. His vision swam, but he kept his eyes on Lana.
What is she doing just standing there?
Then, movement caught his attention. A sickening realization settled in his gut.
Below them, deep in the tangled limbs of the Bentree below—something was stirring. No, many things. Shadows shifted where there should have been stillness. Seven distinct shapes emerged, through the foliage. More mutants. The larger ones with four arms and flesh armour covering their bodies. Their slick claws scraped against the bark as they climbed, relentless and hungry.
Panic surged through him.
The leaves still blocked their view, but it didn't matter. They had no time. No safety. If they stayed here, they were dead.
Gritting his teeth, Vlad forced his battered body upright. His left arm hanging limp at his side—every jolt sending waves of fire through his shoulder but he pushed past it. Instinct had taken over now. The will to survive drowned everything else.
Lana must have noticed the creature's presence as well. She spun back toward him, eyes wide with the same realization.
"We need to climb—higher," Vlad rasped, grabbing at a nearby vine.
Lana hesitated. Her eyes locked on him for a second too long—not with doubt, but searching for something. Whatever she saw in his face—or felt—made her jaw tighten. She gave a small nod. Then in a tight voice said:
"What if we run into a dead end?"
He paused, then looked skyward. The circling predator cast its massive shadow again—closer now, tighter in its loops.
"If what I think is about to happen does happen," Vlad said, a grim edge in his voice, "then we'll be fine."
Lana's shoulders eased, just a little. Like something unspoken had clicked into place.
***
Vlad hauled himself upward fighting through the pain, one hand gripping the thick vine while the other hung limp at his side. Lana was already above him, moving fast, her sword strapped to her back as she pulled herself from branch to branch.
The Bentree's ancient limbs creaked and swayed, leaves rustling in the wind.
Below them, the wet scrape of claws grew louder—closer.
"Keep going!" Lana whispered down.
Vlad didn't need the encouragement—but he needed the strength. Every inch upward was a battle. His legs trembled beneath him. His good arm burned. He grit down harder and forced himself to move, dragging his weight up one vine at a time. His left arm, limp and angled wrong, bumped against the bark and sent a sharp jolt through his ribs. He nearly lost his grip.
They climbed in silence, save for their labored breathing and the soft creak of the wind-laced canopy. And yet, something in the air had changed. The higher they went, the heavier Vlad felt. But not from the thinning air—it was the pain, the bleeding fatigue sinking into his bones.
Then, a thunderous thud shook the tree.
Vlad froze, clinging to the trunk as vibrations rolled through the bark. A rush of displaced air hit his face like a wave.
He looked down.
The massive, bird-like creature had landed. It perched exactly where they'd been moments ago—beside the crushed remains of the mutant. Its four legs tipped with sharp talons dug deep into the wood, gouging long, splintered scars into the branch. Its red adamantine wings folded slowly, and its serpentine neck curved downward to examine the broken body below it.
For a heartbeat, it was still. Then its head snapped up.
The creature's eyes locked onto the vines, unblinking.
Vlad froze mid-climb, heart hammering in his chest. He didn't dare move. Lana, perched just above, clung to a narrow limb.
Then the bird-like creature's head snapped to the side. And then it screeched—a harsh, bone-rattling cry that split the air like a blade.
Yes! Don't let those bastards climb up birdbrain!
Feathers along its back flared like blades, and its wings twitched as it released a guttural, seething growl. Whatever it had sensed, it had not liked it. But Vlad and Lana couldn't see what it was.
Vlad didn't wait to find out either. He had a hunch.
"Go," he hissed. "Now."
They climbed fast, lungs burning, muscles screaming.
Vlad's body screamed with every pull. His shoulder blazed with pain, his one good hand slick with blood. The vines twisted. He slipped—caught himself. His vision swam. He tasted blood.
A second later, the bird let out a sound that cut through the air like shattered glass—shrill and enraged. Its wings snapped open in one violent motion, feathers flaring like jagged blades. It screeched again, this time deeper, furious.
Movement.
His stomach dropped.
From the tangle of crimson leaves below, five figures burst into view—scuttling up the Bentree's bark with terrifying speed. The mutants. Five of the remaining seven—assuming they did not increase their numbers. All of them soaked in fury, their claws ripping into the wood as they climbed.
What?! How?! Vlad thought completely baffled.
Turned out the slippery bastards were smarter than he'd counted on—they'd dodged exactly what he was banking on to happen.
For them to have been somehow stopped by the bird-like creature.
"We've got five uglies on us," Vlad muttered.
Lana twisted to look.
"Of course we do."
No sign of the other two. Vlad didn't like that.
Did they split up to distract the bird thing?
"Keep moving, don't stop," Lana said, breath tight.
Vlad glanced upwards.
"Wasn't planning to."
They climbed higher, the creaking branches and rustling leaves the only warning of what hunted them—from below.
They climbed higher. The branches didn't grow thinner—but more erratic. Twisting in unnatural patterns, spiraling like bone and vine fused by madness. Wind howled through the upper reaches of the Bentree, sharp and cold, pulling at their hair and brushing their faces as the dense crimson canopy began to thin and dim crimson light filtered through, and beyond it—the summit of the Bentree.
So close now. Just a few more desperate pulls…
But so were the mutants.
The scrape of claws against bark rang out louder, nearer—no longer muffled by leaves. Vlad didn't dare look back, but he could feel them. The weight. The hunger. The rage.