monsters and men

There was truly no time to think before the stranger suddenly reached for his shirt and ripped him to the side, just in time for the very Earth before them to explode in a storm of pine needles and dirt. With it, crawled out a creature of thick claws and terrifying teeth, spit spraying from its maw as it let out an earth-shaking screech.

Atreus' hands found his ears, nails digging painfully into his skin with a pressure that made it feel as though his ears were about to pop. No amount of cowering could drown out the sickening sound of the bolt imbedding into the monster's flesh, nor the way it growled in obviously pain as black oozed from the fresh wound. Immediately, his stomach churned, threatening to relieve him of everything save for his own guts, nausea taking over in a wave of unpleasant dizziness and the tightening of his throat-

He hadn't noticed that he had stumbled back a step until the creature turned its attention to them at the snap of his heel on a branch. There was no time to waste, no time to consider their options, no time to think before Sylen shoved him out of the monster's crosshairs. What followed was all a blur. A nightmare. A terrible panic that had him blindly screaming and reaching to tear at flesh, limbs, anything he could reach the second the creature had leapt and pinned him into the ground with enough force to knock the air clean from his lungs.

He tried not to think about the black ooze as it splattered across his face, dripping down his arms and neck and staining his chest. He tried to ignore the burns as it seeped into his own torn skin, either from the monster’s claws or the very earth from where he fell. His throat was raw by the time the monster reeled away from him, shrieking its ear-shattering cry. If it were not for Sylen grabbing his shoulder and forcing him up, he probably would have remained there in the dirt, shaking and crying and bleeding.

Hanging onto the branch with what little strength he could muster, Atreus dug his nails into the bark and squirmed his way onto it, shaking like a leaf in the wind as he huddled as close to the tree trunk as he could. He squeezed his eyes shut as Sylen prompted him to be quiet, holding back the whimpers in his throat as his wounds continued to fester and his muscles ached from exertion. He didn’t know the stranger was searching through his bag, nor did he know what he had pulled out. But he did hear the wail of the creature once more, and the way it flailed and thrashed beneath them. The most Atreus could do was bring his hands to his ears again and hope the bastard was dying.

The muffled sound of the struggle died out in a single thump, and it was only then that Atreus opened his eyes and slowly brought his hands to his chest, a tremor surging through his body as he hesitantly looked down.

It was dead. It looked dead. The creature’s body laid limp in a mess of dirt and pine needles, claw marks wracked through the earth from its struggling. Atreus barely managed to hazard a sigh of relief before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye- Sylen jumping down off the branch.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Atreus squeaked, his voice shaking and strained, followed by a cough into his fist. There was no telling it was actually dea-

His stomach churned again as the knife plunged into the back of the creature's neck, forcing him to turn his face into the tree trunk as more black bubbled and oozed. He didn’t want to come down, when beckoned, but he had a tickling feeling that relieving himself in a tree wasn’t in his best interest.
Nearly falling from his place on the branch, Atreus stumbled forward like a newborn just finding their legs. His knees threatened to give out as he took one, two, three shaking steps only to lose all sense of control of the contents of his stomach. His hands caught himself against the tree trunk as he leaned behind it, gagging and sputtering until there was nothing left for him to give. It burned his throat, stung his eyes, and left an awful taste in his mouth that he was afraid to wipe away for the black ooze still stained his fingers and clothes.

But still, in an attempt to hold onto at least a sliver of dignity, Atreus straightened and tugged at the tattered remains of his clothes. His breath shook with the grimace that took over his features, sickened and skin crawling, before he slowly turned back to Sylen.

“I need a fucking bath,” He managed to say between gritted teeth, “ but since baths don’t exist in the fucking jungle, I need you to find me the nearest river, stream, lake, I don’t fucking care-” A shiver ran down his spine as the breeze picked at his tattered clothes, still soaked in blood both from himself and the creature. His gaze ran over his own clothes before he turned his attention down where they had come, remembering the fallen thief.

“And I’m going to need to steal his shirt,” He muttered in defeat, running his trembling hands through his hair before limping back towards the fallen man, muttering more curses under his breath as he did just that.