Two weeks after she’d escaped the dead city, Marie finally broke.

  It was a rangier and more self-sufficient version of her than she’d been when she’d first arrived in this place, but with her hand and shoulder healed to a point where they weren’t distracting her or sapping her strength, and enough exposure to the strangeness of the land and its wildlife that she felt, if not safe then comfortable around it, and with a complete lack of any sort of sign of civilisation or someone to talk to…

  “I’m going to open it, Napoleon. You can’t stop me. And it’s not about the value of what’s inside. It’s about what we can learn from it.”

  Her skeletal hound sat patiently after dinner, as always, gnawing on the most recent bone Marie had given him. He made no move to stop her.

  “I mean, maybe there is something in there that can help us. We won’t know until it is open.”

  She didn’t even have to look at it to know what it looked like. It was burned into her memory after a fortnight of staring at it.

  For all she didn’t know about it and its contents, one thing she was certain of was that it was locked. Not once when she’d been moving it had the lid shifted, even slightly. And there was a keyhole on the front. Plus, she’d tried to open it when she’d first found it to no avail.

  Well, what is [Basic Lockpicking] for if not this?

  Of course, she needed lockpicks to make an attempt.

  She picked up the bones she’d been saving - the ones she hadn’t given to Napoleon. There were a handful she thought might work in a pinch, and now was the time to try.

  Tilting the box back, she peered into the keyhole. When she couldn’t see anything, she got out her phone and shone the torch directly into it.

  It still didn’t help much, though with only one of her glasses lenses unbroken it was never going to be as clear as it could have been.

  But with her Skill came knowledge. Basic knowledge, but knowledge nonetheless.

  Choosing a wishbone she’d snapped in half and a smaller one with a hook to the end, she inserted the first into the lock and applied a bit of tension to it, then put in the other and began to feel round.

  There was some give - definitely some sort of pin to manipulate.

  She kept at it for a few minutes until she heard and felt something click, but there were more pins to trip and after a quarter of an hour or so making no progress on the second, she called it quits for the day.

  The countryside and wildlife had grown much more diverse now she was more than thirty miles from the city of the undead, but she still had to hunt it down, prepare and cook it. And move the camp. And search for signs of civilisation. And get enough sleep.

  Her Skills helped in some regards; she’d reached level 15 in her Scout class and gained a couple of new Skills - one of which was: [Forager’s Constitution], which had been a real boon after an incident with some mushrooms. That and [Wild Cooking] and [Stretch Rations] went a long way to keeping her fed, whilst [Packmule] seemed to make carrying things easier.

  She had her trusty spade and [Proficiency: Improvised Weapons] to protect herself, along with Napoleon, who’d helped her fight off a pack of vicious creatures - part fox, part bird - that had glided down to accost her a few days before when she’d been making dinner. One had got past and latched its strange beak-mouth onto her leg but hadn’t broken through her recently cleaned jeans; either [Resilient Threads] or [Thick Skin] had kept her safe from harm, though the bite had stung until Boney had ripped into the creature’s back.

  Four of the beasts had been killed before the remainder had fled, and they hadn’t bothered her since, though she heard their strange howl-chirping at night. Unfortunately, they hadn’t seemed good to eat, and Marie had ended up burying them.

  So, nice as it was to be out of the undead city, there were other challenges to face.

  Now, after she packed up her belongings and prepared to break camp, she made use of her second new skill as she prepared to move out.

  [Basic Tracking], as the name suggested, allowed her to pick up the trails of wild animals and follow them. She could also discern a few bits of information on the types and numbers of creatures, though most were unfamiliar to her. It was only a shame that her [Glimpse of the Forgotten] only seemed to work on objects of archaeological interest; she’d tried it a few times and something being dead apparently wasn’t enough.

  She was currently following the trail of a herd of deer. More than a dozen, less than twenty. Their spoor was a day or two old. She’d need to step up the pace if she were to catch them.

  That wasn’t a priority though. She was following them with the idea that they might lead her to food sources. And if they didn’t, well, then she’d consider hunting.

  Napoleon waited patiently as she packed up and carried out his simple but useful contribution: carrying the copper pot with the remnants of food she still had as they moved in the direction of the deer.

  Luck was with her as the morning wore on when she found the trail passing by a dense thicket, in the middle of which she spotted a familiar red fruit.

  Once she’d picked her way into the middle - deeper than the deer could have managed - she found to her delight that they were indeed strawberries. She harvested a few handfuls, ate enough to make her feel slightly sickened by the tangy sweetness, and then rolled the rest up in a spare t-shirt. They’d last a few days if she rationed them, but she marked the thicket’s location on her growing mental map in case she stuck around these parts for a while. Not only was there more food, but it would be a good camping spot if she could clear a space big enough for her tent; the thorns would surely keep most things away. She hadn’t seen anything more dangerous than the winged fox-bird creatures that had attacked.

  Yet.

  Twenty minutes and one mile later, Marie instead pitched her tent on top of a rise overlooking a river. Below, the herd of deer grazed on reeds and grasses. There were fourteen, including a trio of young ones kept safely within the ring of adults.

  With all the practice, it only took her a few minutes to unload her gear and set up. She spared a quick glance for the locked chest she'd wedged between the tent and the tree it was sheltering beneath; she'd find a way to open it. Somehow.

  Turning her attention back to the herd, she reconsidered her hunting idea. They were larger than she'd thought from their tracks, and the male's antlers were rather impressive. Even as she watched, another male - a buck - appeared on the opposite bank and bellowed a challenge. The sound was strangely muted from where she sat.

  The biggest deer pivoted to meet the intruder, and the two squared off across the river.

  Whatever the one in the herd did, the challenger swiftly rethought its decision and backed off into the undergrowth to the east.

  When the sun began to get low in the sky, Marie took her chance.

  The herd was resting on the floodplains. They'd spent the last few hours rooting round in the soft soil and chewing whatever plants they'd dug up. Now most of them were lying down, the three fawns nuzzled up against their mothers, and only the large buck stood guard.

  Walking slowly and calmly down the hill, Marie angled herself away from the herd, skirting the patch of land they'd claimed. She'd left Napoleon at the camp, with instructions he seemed to understand. She'd seen videos of dogs chasing deer before and there was no way she'd risk a ‘Fenton’ incident here.

  The buck watched her pass. He was huge. More horse sized than deer sized. She deliberately avoided eye contact and left a few dozen yards between the sleeping quadrupeds and herself.

  Her [Dangersense] was tingling. It had only triggered a couple of times before - once just before the fox-birds had attacked, and another time where nothing had happened. It grew stronger as she descended, but it didn't have the feel of an imminent threat.

  She approached the patch of ground beyond - between the herd and the river. The buck snorted, and she froze as the tingling increased. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him paw the ground.

  But he didn't move any closer.

  After a few, heart-pounding moments, its attention drifted elsewhere, and she took a few more steps away and began searching the muddied ground for anything she could eat, putting the faintly jangling warning bells from her mind.

  The countryside was quiet, as she worked. The only sound that intruded on the silence was the rushing of the stream.

  More scallions and wild garlic. It seemed their diet wasn't too dissimilar from hers, but as she continued to search she found a couple of half-eaten roots that looked like they might be carrots, and a bulbous mass that could have been a turnip or potato of some kind.

  Everything went into the rough sack she'd made from a spare t-shirt with the arms and neck tied together. As she got closer to the river the vegetables were joined by a few handfuls of cress. It was mostly tasteless but she wasn't ruling anything out at the moment.

  A second later, Marie froze once more as a scuffing sound came from behind her, and then to the side.

  Avoiding turning or moving too fast, she shifted with glacial slowness, trembling in place.

  The thick, furred leg of the stag squelched into the mud a few feet away.

  She was at the clearest spot along the riverbank; until she’d seen the muddier waters she'd been planning on refilling her canteen after she'd foraged, but it seemed she wasn't the only one with a thirst.

  Holding as still as possible, she waited as the stag lowered its head to the surface of the water and began to drink, ignoring her presence.

  Moments stretched out as Marie struggled to balance, crouched down in the mud. For a second she wished Napoleon had come with her, if only for comfort.

  The silence was oppressive now. Even the river seemed muted.

  Another couple of deer joined their leader until its great antlered head rose and it made a hacking cough sound. The two does that had been drinking backed up and the stag lowered its head once again.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Marie watched on, perplexed, as the surface of the water began to ripple and jump. A low thrumming filled the air and the water danced all around where the deer’s head was lowered. Then with a dull whump the surface of the water erupted and a shockwave almost knocked the french woman over.

  She regained her balance as the surface of the water round the stag’s position fizzed and bubbled and then the bodies of dead fish began to surface.

  With her ears ringing, Marie watched the stag pluck one out of the water and swallow it whole. Then it gave a bass lowing and more of the herd began to come forwards to eat.

  It was nearing dusk, and Marie waited as the herd came in and began to devour the fish; if they finished quickly, she could try and take one herself. There were a couple she could see bobbing downriver. Her improved vision would let her track their position but the herd was between herself and the floating food.

  But that wasn’t all she could see as she turned and glanced around for a safer spot.

  Something was moving in the grass to the northwest.

  Almost half of the herd had wandered over to the riverbank and their fishy feast, moving in complete silence, which made the attack, when it came, all the more jarring.

  If Marie hadn't seen the grass moving and rolled away from the herd, she might have been shot or trampled in the first few moments.

  More than twenty figures burst out of the undergrowth, many with bow and arrow or throwing spears, but a flashing burst of energy spoke to something more esoteric.

  People.

  Like her.

  Not quite like her, but human. Humanoid?

  Two of the does fell in the opening salvo, as did one of the fawns.

  The others that had been lying in peaceful repose sprang up with bleats of fear. Before a second wave of projectiles could find them they were halfway to the river, and the huge stag had leapt two dozen feet in a single bound to stand in front of his herd, antlers lowered towards the hunters darting out of the bushes and ferns.

  As another volley of arrows came his way, the stag bellowed and the strange vibrations built in the air again, and then the incoming missiles exploded as a shockwave hit them. A hunter that had been leading the charge, a younger man, slammed into the ground as he fell - hands reaching up to clutch ears that were leaking blood.

  The hunters split into three groups as the stag held its ground, shouting out orders that she could barely hear despite being less than a hundred yards away. She wanted to make a break to safety or get their attention but the deer milling round at the riverbank made moving a risky prospect. If she startled them there was no telling how they’d react. Faint words drifted through the air.

  “spread out. flankers move to attack the herd. when he turns to face you, back off and the others will strike.”

  Following the orders, the men and women in the hunting party separated and made to split the huge deer’s focus.

  They were hardy people - the ones that took the lead positions. Thick of arm and burly. Both the men and women. Rugged. Another group appeared out of the vegetation a few dozen yards behind them - one in actual armour, and a couple better dressed and more refined.

  “That’s it. Make sure you don’t damage the head!”

  The buck pawed the ground as the groups began to surround him but one of the hunters grimaced and called back to the man who’d just shouted out.

  “sir. please. keep your voice low. we don’t want to charge him up.”

  Before anyone could say anything else one of the groups got too close and the stag whirled, charged forwards a few steps and lowered his head to the thrumming sound that had come before.

  Three men and a woman were knocked on their arses, one with blood streaming from his nose, the woman vomiting.

  But the beast had exposed itself in the attack, and it recoiled with a bellowing roar as a javelin and a pair of arrows embedded in its side. It danced back, and Marie recoiled as the move brought it uncomfortably close to where she was hiding in the reeds.

  Trying to keep out of the stag’s line of sight, she waved her arms, frantic, trying to get someone’s attention, but they were all focused on the large buck.

  It was injured, but nowhere near done, and though it retreated, the hunting groups pushed forward warily.

  They were all silent now, though whether from the hunter’s advice or simply from being caught up in the moment, it was hard to tell.

  From the shadows on one end of the line, obscured by the glare of the setting sun, a wolflike creature crept alongside one of the men, though surely no wolf had ever been so large.

  The semicircle with the herd at the centre closed tighter. The stag made a couple of lunges forward which made the hunters he was heading towards flinch back, but he aborted the charge before the others had time to attack.

  One of the group at the back raised her hands and launched what looked like a shard of rock through the air to slam into him. That got a reaction, and the stag leapt forwards and sent a shockwave out that flattened two of the hunters in the centre of the arc.

  It cost him though, as another arrow and a lance of fire struck into his side.

  The rest of the herd was keeping back, clamouring and pushing each other at the edge of the river. A few had already started to retreat into the fast-flowing water, but more crowded the bank and the stag gave out a pained lowing and stumbled back to his fellow deer.

  That was when the water behind them erupted, and a form three times the size of anything else she’d seen in the messed-up land launched itself into the middle of the herd and clamped its jaws down on one of the deer, biting it clean in two.

  For a single second, both the hunters and the deers froze, then the deer scattered and the stag charged straight at the scaled creature - a crocodile - as it tore into a doe and crushed a fawn underfoot.

  “Forget the echohorn - whoever can bring down the snapjaw gets their bonus doubled! Spellswords, let’s see you prove your worth.”

  A dulled screech rang out, along with a rhythmic chanting and a flash of fire, but it fizzled out and the deer scattered as the stag charged the crocodile again, and then another blast of vibrations emanated from the creature - the crocodile taking the full force of it but shrugging it off.

  “We need the deer down if we’re going to do much, Sir. It’s muting our effectiveness. We should let the snapjaw kill it then we can go in.”

  The clashing snap of jaws and a squeal of pain told Marie another doe was dying.

  “Absolutely not - I still want that thing’s head. Send the allagi in.”

  “You hear-”

  Another bellowing roar came from the riverbank - obscured from Marie’s vision by the reeds - and a moment later the stag was thrown back, bloodied and staggering, and the full body of the crocodilian beast came onto the land with a deep, coughing grunt and a shower of water, mud and other elements Marie didn’t want to dwell too closely on.

  The rougher, larger people were running in, pulling ropes and spears. They ignored the deer for the most part, and sprinted towards the snapjaw with surprising speed and a lack of fear that Marie’s racing heart couldn’t comprehend.

  Especially when their thrown spears refused to even stick into the creature’s thick hide.

  Surging forwards, the snapjaw’s head darted out and snatched one of the people. It spun, ripping the arm off the woman it had in its mouth as its tail flung three more back a dozen yards.

  Merde.

  Marie was forced to roll out of the way - towards the open part of the bank now covered in blood and dead deer where the snapjaw had rushed out of the river. As she came up, she heard a voice calling out.

  “There’s a woman back there! Is s-”

  She couldn’t tell who’d said it and the rest was lost as the stag, still reeling, charged into the side of the snapjaw and a crash of vibrations sent her to the ground.

  If it hadn’t been for the snapjaw’s body absorbing the majority of it, Marie might have been killed outright. As it was, she vomited as her balance was thrown all over the place and liquid began to drip from her ears.

  As her sight began to return she rolled out of the way of the snapjaw’s leg as it took a juddering step backwards. A few of the hunters were frantically waving at her to get out but even with her [Sure Footing] she struggled to get to her feet.

  With the huge form of the snapjaw taking up most of her field of vision, she couldn’t see what was going on the other side, but as she scrambled south along the riverbank she spotted what at first she thought was a child running out in front of the colossal reptile.

  Everything was obscured again as she threw herself out of the way of a lashing tail, and then everything went into overdrive as she triggered her [Adrenaline Surge]. If she hadn’t, she might have died a second later as the giant crocodile turned with impossible speed to swipe with its tail at something out of view. Without thinking, she half-closed her eyes and willed her [Bonebreaker Charge] to take effect, and suddenly she was flying across the ground.

  One of the legs of the beast got in her way, and there was a physical crunch that ran through her body as she careened off the creature’s scaly hide and skidded across the muddy earth, ploughing into soil wet with river water and blood, and coming to rest in a miniature crater of gore as she impacted into the side of a dead, eviscerated deer.

  A face appeared above her. Handsome, blonde hair waving, blue eyes sparkling.

  “Easy does it.” The man held out a hand to Marie, heedless of the blood and filth covering it, and she took it. It was firm but soft, and helped her to her feet. “Stand back m’lady. Allow me and my companions to attend to this foul beast.”

  Other pairs of hands pulled her back to a safe distance - the rough and ready men and women were less well equipped than the man that had helped her and the others that were approaching the snapjaw, which reeled from her hit to its leg and another attack she’d missed.

  The figure she’d seen before was no child she realised as she watched - but a small man.

  …a hobbit?

  There were three others as well, who joined the man as he took out a long sword and held it to the side in one hand. Two people that looked human until you saw their feline features, and the tails that swished behind them, and a man with a lute who looked more like the hunters.

  The snapjaw was turning and thrashing as it sought to tear into the hobbit-like person but the man was laughing and bouncing around - cartwheeling out of reach at the last moment or even flipping over the beast’s head.

  As the shortest member of their number distracted it, the others began to do something.

  It took a moment for Marie to realise what it was.

  They were singing.

  The man who had pulled her up and the female of the two feline-people were leading it. She couldn’t hear exactly what they were singing, but she could feel a power in the words - in the song. One was more rhythmic, chanting and steady, where the other was closer to a capricious melody that flitted around like a bird.

  As the two sang, the lute began to play, and then the male of the feline-people pulled a pair of axes out and began to stalk around the beast, intermittent snarls and screeches coming from his throat that still seemed to fit the rhythm.

  Marie watched, entranced, as the five began to fight, and the snapjaw didn’t stand a chance.

  It was as if they moved to the music, whilst also forcing the crocodile to move to the same beat, and they were in control.

  A bass note would ring out as the snapjaw lunged, but the short man would already be laughing and flipping away, and a jarring screech would come as the twin axes of the cat-person slashed into the beast’s side.

  The cat-woman and the lead man each had their own blades out, and as the tempo increased they spun in to slice and pierce, sword and rapier and dagger piercing the creature’s thick hide where the hunters’ arrows had failed to find purchase.

  They were bleeding it. Slowly but inevitably. It almost seemed to want to escape, but it couldn’t keep its focus off the diminutive person taunting it for more than a few moments, and it didn’t seem to be able to shake the rhythm of the song.

  It was all going well until a hunter staggered out of the reeds.

  He must have been thrown there earlier when the snapjaw had swiped some of them with its tail. He was clearly dazed and confused, and his staggering steps took him into the path of the snapjaw as the small man once again leaped out of the way of snatching teeth.

  The hobbit’s face grimaced for a moment as he cartwheeled in another direction and the leader’s form twitched as though he was going to intervene, but there was next to no time.

  But Marie had noticed the person as soon as they’d appeared, and seen the danger. And though it was disgusting, she knew there was a way.

  At least, she hoped there was.

  Her hands were already closing round the slimy entrails of the deer corpse she stood beside, and trying not to think too hard about what she was doing, she snapped out a hand.

  The intestines flew out and wrapped round the torso of the hunter.

  “[Whipbind Pull]!”

  She hauled hard on the improvised whip, but it was slippery, and the muddy ground beneath was no better, and the hunter was heavy. Heavier than her.

  It was just enough to yank the man away from being decapitated by the beast’s jaws as they snapped shut, but she was thrown towards him as much as he was pulled towards her.

  They both landed on the torn-up field and scrambled for safety as the hobbit once again danced in front of the giant reptile to draw its focus.

  A snarl and a wet cutting sound from the other side signified the other cat-person had sunk his axes into the beast again and the snapjaw turned once more, leaking its lifeblood as it began to slow.

  It took more than a minute for the singers to finish the beast off, and even then they stopped just before it was dead.

  Marie looked round to see why they’d left it, and from out of the rear of the hunter groups came a trio of people that Marie could instantly tell were rich.

  They looked like they’d stepped out of a period drama. One of them though, carried a spear that was long enough that she wondered if it was a pike.

  He was escorted by a young woman who looked to be part of the singer’s group, though she hadn’t fought with them.

  “Excellent show, Sirrochon. My congratulations.”

  The man who’d helped her up earlier bowed.

  “My pleasure, Sir. Would you care to take the killing blow?”

  The noble looked at the dying snapjaw and the blood covered ground and examined his boots, which were spotless.

  “It won’t give me some ghastly hunting class, will it?”

  Sirrochon, if that was his name, kept a studiously blank face as he replied.

  “I believe hunting is a [Noble] sport, Sir. If you receive anything I do not think it will be an unwelcome surprise.”

  “Hmmpf. Very well. I will approach.”

  He actually hesitated and gestured for some of the hunters to lay their jackets down so he could walk close enough without getting dirtied.

  There was a minor flash as he pushed his spear into the snapjaw’s head, but it seemed to meet no resistance, and a moment later, the beast stopped moving altogether.

  “Excellent work everyone.” He called as he turned round with a big smile on his face. “I’ll leave this to all of you to clear up. Let’s wrap up here quickly and follow the river south. I want to find those giant gulls next.”

  He didn’t even spare a glance for the three dead hunters on the blood-soaked ground as he walked off.

  Hi all! Welcome to my book, Miscast Heroes.

  I'm uploading a few chapters to start with and then will upload one a day after.

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