The forest pressed in colder now, darker, as though the trees themselves had drawn a slow, deliberate breath and decided to hold it. Inferna felt it first the prickle along her spine, the subtle wrongness that had nothing to do with temperature.

  Something was moving between the trunks, shadow to shadow, patient and deliberate. She had always felt such things before they became visible, it was the one gift the hellfire in her blood had never let her forget.

  She quickened her pace without a word.

  "Hey! Slow down!" Chickenman called, voice half-muffled by the clanking kettle helmet that kept sliding sideways on his head. Roots snaked across the path like grasping fingers; he stumbled, eyes fixed downward, arms windmilling for balance.

  Inferna didn't slow. She didn't dare.

  A flicker of motion dark against darker caught the corner of her eye. She froze mid-step. Chickenman collided hard into her back with a muffled grunt, helmet ringing against her shoulder blade like a cracked bell.

  "What the–" he started, readjusting the helmet with both hands.

  Inferna's free hand shot up, palm flat. "Shut up. I saw something." Her whisper was barely audible. Her crimson eyes darted across the gloom, searching for the shape she'd glimpsed too tall for an animal, too deliberate for wind. Nothing. Only the endless black-green wall of trees staring back.

  Chickenman's unease bloomed into something sharper. He turned slowly, scanning the way they'd come, hand drifting to the hilt of the short sword at his belt.

  Inferna's flame flickered higher in her palm, throwing jittery orange light across the nearest trunks. "Fuck it…" she hissed between clenched teeth. "Come on. Faster. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

  She started walking again brisk, almost frantic. Chickenman hurried to keep up.

  "What did you actually see?" he whispered at her back.

  Inferna didn't answer right away. Several long strides passed before she spoke, voice low and taut. "I'm not sure. Just… keep moving. And stay alert for any movement."

  Another hour crawled by in tense silence. The clinic's crooked silhouette finally appeared through the thinning trees ahead warm lamplight bleeding from the windows like blood from a wound.

  Relief had barely begun to loosen Chickenman's shoulders when a new sound reached them, the slow, rhythmic thud of hooves on packed earth, accompanied by the low murmur of men's voices.

  Both of them stopped dead.

  Inferna melted behind the nearest trunk, pressing her back to the bark. "Damn it… hope it's not them," she muttered. Her spine had gone cold, colder than the forest air. She narrowed her eyes, trying to pierce the distance.

  Chickenman crouched, peering ahead. Voices, several adult men and Tobias's distinctive dry tone woven among them. "What's going on?" he whispered.

  Before Inferna could answer, Chickenman was already moving low, awkward darting from tree to tree like a man who had only ever seen stealth in stories.

  Inferna's eyes widened in furious disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing, you dumb fuck?!" she hissed after him. "You'll get yourself killed!"

  He either didn't hear or didn't care.

  From his new vantage he could see clearly, four soldiers in mismatched light armor white padded gambesons, some wearing steel plates, simple helmets.

  One cradled a crossbow, bolt already nocked, the weapon trained lazily on the clinic window. Four horses stood tethered nearby, snorting steam into the chill air.

  Then a knight arrived.

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  He rode in last, horse draped in chain-and-plate barding that clinked with every step. The man himself was a walking fortress. long mail coat over steel plates, gauntlets, greaves. A bascinet helm with the infamous hounskull visor concealed his face. And on his armour chest, a symbol of the letter "H" surrounded with flowers and motifs.

  He dismounted with deliberate weight, boots thudding into the dirt, and the soldiers parted for him like water around stone.

  The knight approached Tobias at the clinic door. With a metallic rasp, he lifted the visor.

  Blue eyes cold and pointed brown beard. His assessing gaze swept past Tobias into the shadowed interior.

  "Good morning, Sir Tobias," he said, voice smooth and practiced. "Word reached us from the farmers in Rovic. Yesterday you purchased a considerable quantity of medicine from a passing caravan. Small amounts we overlook. Large amounts…" He smiled thinly. "According to the Order's rulebook, you owe the nearest camp a modest share. Care to explain what you intend to do with such quantities?"

  Tobias stepped forward, matching the knight's height without flinching. "Morning to you too, Sir. You must have me confused with someone else. I never left the forest yesterday. And why would a humble physician like me in the middle of nowhere purchase expensive quantities when he barely see patients?"

  The knight's jaw tightened. He glanced at his men, then back. "If that's so, you won't mind if we conduct a brief search of the clinic? Purely routine. There have been… reports of devils in these woods lately. We'd hate to think you were harboring anything untoward."

  Tobias shook his head once still calm as river water flow. "I'm afraid that's impossible at the moment. I'm in the middle of a delicate experiment special remedy. Any outside contact could ruin it. Potentially fatally."

  The knight's smile returned, slow and dangerous. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Funny how a project suddenly appears without local authority consent." The smile vanished. "Unless you're hiding something."

  He stepped aside, scanning the treeline as though already expecting an ambush. Then he turned back, voice dropping into something colder. "Today I'm in the mood to feel generous. Let's pretend that little exchange never happened. Ahem." He cleared his throat theatrically. "You won't mind if we search your clinic, would you?"

  Both gauntleted hands now rested on the long sword at his hip. The threat hung in the air like drawn steel.

  Out of the shadows stepped Chickenman. "Hey!" he shouted.

  The soldiers spun. The crossbowman's weapon snapped up, bolt centered on Chickenman's chest.

  The knight turned slowly, helmet tilting in faint amusement. "Who the hell is this?" he asked Tobias, voice dripping condescension. "Your apprentice?"

  Tobias didn't miss a beat. "I don't even know who this madman is." while he point his hand gesture to Chickenman.

  The knight chuckled, then raised his voice. "And who might you be, boy?"

  Chickenman swallowed once. Then shouted, "My name is… uh… Chickenman."

  A beat of stunned silence.

  Then laughter exploded from the soldiers. Even the knight shook his head, shoulders shaking.

  "Chickenman?" Otto echoed, voice cracking with glee. "Gods above. That's the best name I've heard since 'Sir Stumbles-a-Lot'."

  Then his laughter died. The knight's smile faded. "What do you want here, boy?"

  Chickenman drew his short sword. The steel rasped free. He pointed it at the knight's chest. "Get away from the physician. Or else."

  "Or what?" The knight replied, voice thick with mockery. "You'll throw your chickens at me until I die of boredom?"

  More laughter from The Knight men. The knight stepped forward, raising one hand. The crossbowman lowered his weapon. "I like your chivalry, boy," he said while pointing at Chickenman. "But you're fool enough to think you can defeat me. Otto of Yulitz, knight banneret of the Holy Order."

  The crossbowman leaned in moving closer to Otto. "Why bother, Sir? One shot and he'll spend his last days groaning with infection."

  Otto considered, then whispered back, "No. I want to test this 'Chickenman.' See if he has skill… or just a big mouth. And because it's the right time to test this newly forged sword." He smirked and stepped forward. "Alright then, boy. I accept your duel."

  With a decisive clank, he lowered the hounskull visor, sealing his face behind steel. He raised his longsword high in a lower-left guard.

  Chickenman advanced, heart hammering against his ribs.

  They circled slow, wary. Neither struck first.

  Then Otto exploded forward.

  A single, elegant slash aimed at Chickenman's shoulder. He twisted aside, the blade whispering past his ear, and swung wildly at Otto's helm. Steel clanged against steel barely a dent. Beneath the visor, Chickenman heard the faintest smirk.

  Otto stepped back, creating perfect distance, sword flowing to the opposite shoulder in a master's stance. Chickenman's footing felt clumsy, exposed.

  He charged again blade arcing toward Chickenman's neck in a killing stroke.

  Chickenman got his sword up in time. Metal screamed against metal. The impact jolted through his arms.

  Then Otto's gauntleted fist crashed into Chickenman's face.

  Steel met nose. Bone crunched. Blood sprayed.

  Chickenman staggered back, one hand flying to his face, the other still clutching the sword. Hot blood poured between his fingers. His vision swam. Another muffled smirk from behind the visor.

  Rage ignited.

  Chickenman roared and charged wild, furious swings. Otto parried each one with contemptuous ease, then drove another punishing punch into Chickenman's cheek. The world tilted.

  He fell hard on his back. His kettle helmet flew free, rolling across the dirt. Laughter and jeering "oohs" rang in his ears from Otto men.

  Otto lifted his visor, blue eyes cold and satisfied. "Pathetic. You're far more miserable than my youngest son back in Yulitz." He sheathed his longsword with a clean metallic snap, then turned toward the clinic. Pausing, he looked back down at Chickenman.

  "Bravery and rage are never enough to win a fight, boy. You need skill. Technique." He glanced at his men. "Enough entertainment for one day. Mount up. We return to camp." He crouched beside Chickenman, voice low. "Farewell, Chickman. If we meet again someday… I'll expect more than random flailing."

  He rose, gave Tobias a final meaningful glance. "Don't forget about the share, Tobias. We'll be back soon enough." and with that, Otto and his soldiers mounted their horses and left the clinic, the sound of hooves slowly fading away after they disappeared down the forest pathway.

  Tobias hurried over and dropped to one knee beside Chickenman. "You alright?" He pulled bandages from his satchel, pressed them to the bleeding nose. "Hold it like that. Pinch hard."

  Footsteps soft, hesitant.

  Tobias looked up. Inferna stood at the treeline, head bowed, fists clenched at her sides. "There you are," Tobias said. "Where the hell have you been?"

  Inferna wouldn't meet their eyes. "I… I don't know," she muttered to the ground. "I'm scared of them… and…"

  Tobias exhaled through the beak of his mask. He retrieved Chickenman's fallen helmet, set it gently back on his head, then gripped Chickenman's arm. "Alright. Let's get you inside and fix that nose before it sets crooked or gets infected."

  Chickenman let himself be pulled upright, head spinning, blood still dripping onto his shirt. "Who were those men?" he asked thickly, pinching his nose.

  Tobias guided him toward the clinic door. "I'll explain later. Inside first. Move." Before entering the clinic, Tobias asked, "You got the mushroom?"

  Chickenman nodded while saying, "Yeah, I have it."

  Behind them the forest watched in perfect silence, as though it had seen such things before and would see them again.