DK did not move.
Neither did Etzel.
The forest north of them looked ordinary. Which, after the last few days, had become deeply suspicious.
Trees.
Underbrush.
Broken light filtering through leaves.
No black veins crawling over bark.
No screaming monsters.
No two-and-a-half-meter nightmare shepherd waiting behind a trunk.
Just forest.
Etzel looked at DK. “You were going to follow it.”
“Yes.”
“Without me?”
DK was silent for a moment. “I don't know.”
That answer bothered Etzel more than a simple yes would have.
He studied the knight's face. Nothing about DK looked controlled. No glazed eyes. No strange twitch. No visible influence. If something was pulling at him, it wasn't dragging him around like a puppet.
It was subtler.
Recognition without memory. Instinct without explanation.
Etzel had begun to hate both.
He pointed north. “Then until you know, I make the stupid decisions.”
DK looked at him. “You already do.”
Etzel nodded. “Exactly. We have a system.”
He took one step. Pain shot across his back. Etzel stopped.
DK said nothing. That was somehow worse.
“Don't.”
“I said nothing.”
“Your silence is judgmental.”
“You are bleeding.”
“Bandaged bleeding.”
“You are injured.”
“I have been informed.”
“Repeatedly.”
Etzel sighed. Then, instead of continuing north, he sat down on a fallen log.
DK watched him. “You are stopping.”
“I'm preparing.”
“You usually call preparing boring.”
Etzel checked the bandage wrapped around his ribs. “Nearly being cut in half has broadened my interests.”
That earned him the smallest pause from DK. Etzel took it as approval.
He drank water. Checked the bandage Tessa had put across his back. Retied one loose section. Cleaned the blood from the edge of his hatchet.
Then he studied the crude public map on his device again.
Dungeon east.
Outer trail south.
Unknown influence north.
He memorized their exit direction. Finally, he looked at DK.
“If I get stupid—”
“You will.”
“More stupid than usual.”
DK considered. “Clarify.”
Etzel stared at him. “This partnership has become abusive remarkably quickly.”
“You summoned me.”
“Another unfairly strong argument.” He stood. “If whatever is north is too dangerous, we leave.”
DK nodded.
“If you feel something trying to control you, you tell me.”
Another nod.
“And if I say run?”
“I carry you.”
Etzel frowned. “I was going to say we both run.”
“That seems slower.”
“I hate that you're probably right.”
They headed north.
They found the Briar Shepherd's trail again within minutes. The prints were distinctive. Two long feet. Deep heel impressions. Occasional gouges where one of its bone whips had touched the ground.
At first, the route looked normal. Then Etzel noticed the problem.
The Shepherd had not deviated. Not once.
He stopped beside the tracks.
DK stopped ahead. “What?”
Etzel looked back. The prints formed a near-perfect line through the undergrowth. No detours toward water. No inspection of prey trails. No circling. No evidence it had hunted.
It hadn't even avoided difficult terrain unless physically necessary.
Etzel pointed. “Animals don't move like this.”
DK looked at the path. “It was not an animal.”
“Fine.” Etzel stepped over a root. “Horrible bone-faced nightmare shepherds don't move like this either.”
DK examined the prints.
Etzel continued. “It was going somewhere.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
DK looked at him.
Etzel crouched. “Not going somewhere.” He pointed north. “Being sent somewhere.”
That distinction felt important. The Briar Shepherd hadn't wandered into the region. It hadn't discovered the monster population and decided to herd them. Its path looked like an arrow. Straight from one point to another.
Etzel stood. “So either it already knew exactly where it was going...”
“Or something told it.”
They continued. The forest slowly changed. Not visibly at first. Etzel noticed it through absence. No birds. Then fewer insects. Then even the usual rustling in the underbrush disappeared.
He looked upward. “Do you hear anything?”
“No.”
“That was not the answer I wanted.”
“You asked.”
“I was hoping you'd lie.”
“I don't understand why.”
“I know.”
Ten minutes later, they reached a clearing.
Etzel stopped at the edge. Nothing moved inside.
It wasn't large. Maybe twenty meters across. A broad old tree stood near the center, its roots lifting sections of earth like frozen waves.
At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about it. Then Etzel looked down.
Tracks. Dozens.
He slowly entered. Small paw prints. Hooves. Clawed feet. Long two-legged impressions. Something serpentine had dragged itself through the mud.
Different species. Different dates. All had entered the clearing. Most had left. But not together. Different directions. East. South. West. Southeast.
Etzel turned slowly.
“This isn't a nest.”
“No.”
“Not a feeding ground.”
“No.”
“No bodies.”
DK studied the ground. “No signs of fighting.”
Etzel stared at the overlapping tracks. Creatures came here. Then left in different directions. Like—
He looked toward the central tree. “This is a distribution point.”
DK's gaze moved to him.
Etzel approached the trunk. “The Shepherd didn't live here.”
“No.”
“It came here.” He looked at the routes leaving the clearing. “Then went somewhere else.”
DK stepped closer. “Instructions.”
Etzel looked at him. “That's what I was thinking.” He didn't like hearing it aloud.
Then a shadow crossed the ground.
DK's head snapped upward. “Move.”
Etzel moved. No question. No joke. He threw himself sideways.
Something dropped through the canopy where he had been standing. Metallic feathers struck earth. A hooked beak snapped shut. The creature landed on two powerful legs, wings half spread.
Etzel rolled and came up with the hatchet ready.
Finally. Something with no fourth leg.
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The creature stood roughly human height, but its wings made it seem larger. Feathers weren't really feathers. Hard overlapping plates covered the wings, dark and reflective like sharpened metal. Its head was narrow. Its beak curved downward. Long talons dug into the soil.
The System appeared.
SURVEY RECORD
SPECIMEN IDENTIFIED
Target
Razorwing Shrike
Classification
Common