Bramwell had always been small. But now it was shrinking by the hour.
After the graveyard massacre, no one spoke of rebuilding. No one prayed. No one buried the dead.
They just left.
One family at a time, wagons squeaking down the road. Farmers abandoned fields. Shopkeepers locked up stores without looking back. Even the mayor fled in the night, leaving his office door wide open.
By the end of the week, only two houses had candlelight.
Finn's.
And Lira's.
---
Lira sat on her porch, frill puffing in the cool night air, watching dust blow down the empty street.
"So…" she muttered, kicking a rock. "Guess we're officially the last idiots left."
Finn joined her, carrying a half-packed bag. His face was pale, hollow. He hadn't slept in days.
"We can't stay," he said flatly. "The village is finished. We'll starve. Or worse."
"Or worser-worse," Lira added. "Like, worm-in-the-face worse."
"…You're not helping."
She sighed, then stood, brushing dirt off her skirt. "Okay. Fine. We leave. But when the monsters chase us, I'm blaming you."
---
They set out before dawn.
The road out of Bramwell led into the Blackwood jungle, a tangle of trees that seemed to lean closer the deeper they went. The air was thick with damp rot. Strange calls echoed from the canopy, low and wet, like animals choking.
Every step was like walking into a mouth.
Finn gripped his lantern tight. "We'll head for the coast. There's supposed to be another village in three days."
"Three days?" Lira groaned, stumbling on a root. "That's like… forty naps. Minimum."
Despite her whining, she kept pace. For once, her frill stayed down. The jungle was too quiet, too heavy, even for her jokes.
Then the silence broke.
CRRRRUNCH.
Something snapped a tree in the distance.
Both froze.
The sound came again. Heavy. Close.
"Finn," Lira whispered, "tell me that was your stomach."
"No."
The bushes exploded.
And out lumbered something that should not exist.
Its body was that of a massive bear, hunched and powerful, but its head was a cow's skull, jaw hanging loose, teeth black with rot. Drool poured from its snout, sizzling when it hit the ground. Its arms, however, were not a bear's—they were gorilla arms, thick and knotted with muscle, knuckles dragging grooves in the dirt.
It bellowed, a sound that was part moo, part roar, part human scream.
Then it charged.
---
Finn grabbed Lira's wrist and ran. "MOVE!"
The jungle exploded behind them as the beast tore through trees like matchsticks. Its gorilla arms swung wildly, smashing trunks into splinters.
Lira stumbled over a root, shrieking as her frill puffed out like a parachute. The sudden puff startled the monster just enough that it tripped, crashing into a fallen log with a deafening roar.
"See?!" Lira wheezed as Finn dragged her upright. "Totally tactical frill use!"
"It's NOT tactical—it's STUPID—RUN!"
They bolted through the undergrowth, branches whipping their faces. The monster barreled after them, glowing eyes locking on their every move.
It was faster. Stronger. Hungrier.
And as they reached the river's edge, Finn realized with horror—
They were trapped.
The monster broke through the treeline, steam blasting from its nostrils, drool sizzling in the water. It rose on its gorilla arms, blotting out the moonlight.
Finn raised his lantern weakly, knowing it wouldn't help. "Lira… this might be it."
Lira, panting, hair frilled out like a lion's mane, blinked at the beast. "…On the bright side, at least it's not worms this time."
The monster lunged.
And the jungle held its breath.