From the Journal of Aframos Longjourney, Pilgrim
With notes by Avos Torr, Scholar of Rheve Library
Chroday, Twenty-fifth Cycle, Seventh Year, 81st Turn
Ninety-eighth Day in the Trees
Our salvation came on the wind, howling and flashing in anger.
The evening brought a tense stillness. The air was warm and heavy with damp, and seemed to cling closely to the skin.
Torne stayed on the second floor and kept several windows open to try and get something of a draft. "This may be good, if I guess right. I think we'll see a storm tonight. We may escape if we keep under the clamor of the rain and thunder." He grinned, and seemed lighter in his heart, seeing some chance of escape.
I was less certain. I did believe a storm was on its way. However, a storm could be as dangerous to us as them. And there was no guarantee it would be severe enough to hide us from those watching. Nevertheless, I saw no other option. There were so many of them, I doubted our ability to defeat them all. I was not sure creatures of bone could truly die.1
The sky turned green near sunset. The birds ceased. And then the wind picked up.
It was greater than any wind I have experienced before. I could hear the timbers of the roof creaking. The twisted branches of the trees scraped against each other, creating a creaking, groaning scream from the woods.
Just before the sun set, the rain began. It fell hard, like each drop bore a grudge against the ground. In moments, it fell like a waterfall, so thickly I could barely see the trees.
Thunder and lighting churned in the clouds above us, adding to the noise. I turned to Torne and nodded. If we were to make it, now was the time.
We carefully climbed down from the tower. We could not see any of the bone creatures near us. We moved carefully toward the river.
We were near halfway when lightning struck a tree on the other shore. The sound of it pressed against my ears and the flash broke through the rain and it was for a moment as bright as day.
Behind us, just barely muffled by the storm, we heard that terrible cry. We ran.
The river was above its banks, and the grass beneath the water was slick and treacherous. We had to face the flow of water to keep from being swept off our feet. Still we charged in. Even if it washed us down the river, we reasoned it surely must be better than what we were fleeing.
I felt the ground drop beneath me as I reached the bank itself. As I did, something landed on my back, and I felt something clawing at my shoulder, trying to find my neck.
I yelled for Torne to keep moving as I wrestled to pull the creature from me. I felt bone and pulled. It came free in my hand. I reached again, and this time, to my surprise, I felt flesh. They were not, it seemed, truly made of bone, but there was flesh beneath.
And as I dug further, and pulled the creature free, I could feel blood running down my arm from where my own claws had pierced its skin. They lived.2
Once it was clear of my body, I let it fall into the churning water, and it scrambled to stay above the water. It splashed back to the shore.
More keening screams came from the shore, so I pressed on. Soon, I was barely able to keep my toes to the mud of the water and my head above the water.
Torne was in more dire straits. He began to be washed into the water. I managed to grab him by his pack before he was swept away. I lifted him above my head and, with all my strength, I threw him. I could not hear him land over the sound of the rain on the river, but I did not hear him splash into the water either.
Now I had to move to reach the shore myself. The water rose above my head, and I felt my feet leave the bottom. I found myself suspended in the water, and then crashed against something solid. I fought, and pulled myself up along it, and found myself atop a fallen tree. I scrambled along its trunk, and reached the shore just as the current took it.
For a moment, I simply lay on the dirt, ignoring the water striking my scales. But then I staggered to my feet and moved upstream.
A horned shape loomed out of the darkness, and for a moment I feared I was done. But it was Torne. He shouted my name hoarsely, and then stumbled into me. I held him until his feet were steady, and we walked to the path, and then went as far as we were able. It was not far, but we had to believe the creatures had not been able to cross the storm-swollen river. We leaned against the trunk of a massive oak, using what protection it gave us from the rain, and we slept.
When we woke, the storm was over, and the first rays of dawn were peeking through the branches. I ached into my bones. But we knew we were not yet safe. It was time to move again. The path was safer than the woods, but it was no sure sanctuary.
By midmorning, we were more sure of our escape. We had reached a section of the wood untouched by the storm. We gathered firewood with what felt like the last of our strength and built a proper camp. We put our packs near the fire and have been letting things dry.
It has been several days. We have changed camp once, and done some hunting. My body is starting to feel less sore, though I am still badly bruised where I struck the tree. I will take that over being lost to the river, however.
It is good to be on the path again.