• White snowflakes drifted through the sky, illuminated by Farhel's raised lantern. He loosed his grip on his sword, raising his hand in order to swipe brown locks from his eyes. His breath rose in puffs of white smoke in the chill air. Dim light from the moon cast a reddish glow on the snow, giving the forest an ominous red hue. The silence didn't lighten the scene any - not even the owls hooted this night. Trying to glance in four directions at once, Farhel grunted, his hand returning to the hilt of his sword. He drew it, the sound of unsheathing metal momentarily breaking the silence.

    The crunching of snow caused Farhel to whip around, his sword outstretched. A young woman stood among the leafless beech before him, a cloak wrapped around her slim body to protect against the biting cold. From the folds of the cloak he could see the end of a strung bow. No doubt the woman had an arrow knocked and ready to loose. The outline of a sword was also just visible, hanging from her waist beneath the cloak.

    "Sam," Farhel sighed, lowering his sword. "You scared the crap out of me. I thought I told you to stay with the others."

    The woman shook her head in defiance. "You said you thought you heard something out here, and we both know what that means." A small smile broke out on her face. "Without me you wouldn't last ten minutes."

    Farhel sighed heavily and turned back to examining the treeline ahead. He hadn't really expected Sam to stay with the others. Wherever there was action, his daughter was sure to follow.

    Snow crunched under Sam's boots as she moved to stand beside Farhel. Her cloak was pushed back now to reveal the full length of her bow. A simple thing, but with Sam's guidance it was more deadly than half a dozen royal archers with their fancily worked bows. Farhel had been right - an arrow was knocked, and Sam was stroking it's fletching with her thumb. She was staring at the trees with the eyes of an eagle, preparing for whatever might break through that line.

    A stray owl hooted - the first one Farhel had heard that night - taking to the air from a nearby tree. Farhel's eyes followed it for a moment as its outline passed in front of the near-full moon. A shiver ran down his spine, but he ignored it. He flexed his hand against the leather-bound hilt, and gave a misty sigh. He had been standing here for the better part of a half hour, and there was still no sign of movement. The gash on his arm, however, told him they were there. It burned like a blacksmith's furnace, searing the torn flesh. Only months of enduring that very pain allowed Farhel to remain stable. There was no way he was going to allow the beasts access to his camp.

    The wound had come from the claw of a ghoul, the creatures he was now defending his party from. They were vile creatures, humans corrupted beyond recognition. Some said they weren't even alive, but a shadow of their former selves come back from the after-life. Farhel didn't know how much of that was true, but he did know two things: that the creatures were large in number and hell-bent on eliminating the human race, and that they were a damn hard to kill.

    Grenhald, the royal wizard, had woven an enchantment into Farhel's wound, imbuing it with a sort of sensory ability. Farhel hadn't understood the explanation the wizard had given him, only that when that wound burned, it meant ghouls were about. And right now it felt as though it should have burned right down into his soul. He resisted the urge to rub it, instead readjusting his footing. They were there, and he knew it.

    The sound of a rustling bush echoed through the moonlit clearing. Farhel tensed, and Sam raised her bow, drawing back slightly. Glaring at the offending bush through the dim light, Farhel tried to make out what had caused the noise, but he didn't have to wonder long. Seconds later the treeline came to life, a dozen or more ghouls barreling out into the snow, quickly covering the thirty meters between the trees and Farhel. They ran with fervor, decaying skin hanging from their limbs, their body's disproportionate and grotesque. Sam's bow began to sing as she quickly emptied the small quiver that rested on her back, and Farhel moved to protect his daughter should any of the beasts get within sword's reach. The ghoul's faces erupted into snarls as they realized they were being fired upon - twisted frowns that revealed black, predatory teeth. One fell to all fours and charged, lunging at Sam before she could plant an arrow in it's skull. Farhel's sword came up and severed the creature's outstretched arms and head from its torso, and it fell short of Sam, writhing and screeching on the ground.

    Despite the pincushions Sam had made of the approaching ghouls, only one had been stopped by the hail of arrows. Sam's quiver was now vacant, and she moved to rest her bow on her back and draw her short sword. The duo stood alone in the snow, an arc of ghouls rapidly approaching.

    Farhel's sword glided as he spun, slicing through two ghouls who had moved to tear at his flesh. He heard the rending wails of the injured ghouls, but ignored them. A ghoul could lose most of its limbs and half it's body and it would still make an attempt to strike, but a fallen ghoul was no threat compared to a fully functional one. Farhel opted to keep his attention on those. They had paused briefly at Farhel's ferocity. He bared teeth at them, feeling an animalistic rage try to take hold of him. His hands gripped the sword hilt painfully, willing it to sink into the decaying flesh of his enemy. The ghouls, as intelligent as they were strong despite their appearance, spread out, surrounding Farhel and Sam, and slowly began to close in. Farhel felt his daughter's back press against his, and he welcomed the human warmth that seeped into his fury-laden mind. Without her there he was afraid he would go mad. These creatures had taken everything from him - his parents, his wife, his two sons. Only Sam remained.

    He had to protect her with his life.

    One ghoul howled, and as though of the same creature, five ghouls launched themselves forward. Farhel braced himself for the tearing pain that was sure to come, and called for his daughter to duck down.

    Farhel arced his sword and caught two of the air-bourne ghouls on it. A heavy body slammed into his good shoulder, and the familiar smell of rotting flesh overwhelmed his senses. He struggled, pushing at the ghoul, but the beast latched onto his shoulders with its claws. One claw sank deep into the searing wound, and Farhel let out a roar of pain. At the same moment he heard Sam let out a scream. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he kicked out. The ghoul ripped free of his flesh, leaving behind fresh, deep claw marks, and flew into the air. With a vengeful grunt Farhel leapt to his feet and turned to where his daughter lay. Two ghouls were leaning over her in the snow, only her thrashing legs visible under their large bodies. Farhel struck out with one, two stabs, impaling both ghouls where the heart would normally be, throwing them to the side in the process. Sam's body was revealed, bleeding and torn, but she was still alive and kicking. She struggled to get to her feet, but Farhel was at her side in an instant, leaning down over her.

    "You're injured. Rest, and I'll get you back to the camp." He tried a smile, but it came out crooked.

    Sam laughed, the usually melodic sound wracked with wheezing coughs. "You're hurt too, Dad. I'm f- ah!" She pushed him aside with surprising strength and rolled. Farhel fell back and blinked. A ghoul landed where he and his daughter had been a moment ago. A low growl sounded from his throat. These monsters thought they could hurt his daughter?

    With a flurry that caused his shoulders to scream in protest, Farhel brought his sword around to bear down on the ghoul. Like its companions it wailed as its limbs were chopped free. Farhel turned to face the inevitable onslaught, ready to sacrifice himself in order to give his daughter time to flee. Instead of shouting out to Sam to run, however, Farhel watched curiously as the ghouls froze. They stared at him blankly for a few seconds before turning, fleeing into the surrounding tree-lines.

    Farhel straightened, placing a hand on his forehead in confusion. Had he... scared them away? He didn't think that was possible. They-

    The ground shook beneath his feet, startling him out of his wonderment. "What the hell...?" he growled under his breath, glancing around. It was hard to pinpoint the shaking's origin.

    "s**t! Dad!" Sam's shout was punctuated by a roar so loud, so menacing that Farhel nearly lost his balance. He glanced over his shoulder and gaped. Standing at the edge of the treeline behind him was a massive two-headed beast, it's bilk slightly resembling a stout dog. It's shoulders stood three times higher than Farhel, and both heads sported teeth the length of his arm. Rotting flesh peeled from its body much like on the ghouls, emitting a foul stench that filled the clearing. Farhel turned to face the beast, and the red eyes of one of its heads focused on him.

    Farhel took a step back, his mind reeling for a solution. There was no way he was going to be able to hack the creature down with his sword, and even if Sam could retrieve a couple of her arrows, they would feel like... well, they wouldn't feel like anything to a beast that size.

    Not one to give up, Farhel raised his sword and ran at the hell-hound. If he couldn't kill it, he could at least distract it long enough for Sam to get back to the camp. As he passed the tree-trunk-sized leg, he slashed, tearing open a decent sized gash along the beast's leg. It hardly flinched at the rended flesh, instead turning one of its gigantic heads to snap dangerously at Farhel. Farhel ducked out of its way and crouched in the snow under its belly.

    "Sam! Run! Get back to the camp and get the others to safety!" Farhel said, and he jabbed his sword up into the beast. This time the beast let out a satisfying roar of pain. Farhel tucked and rolled as the beast began to shift about. He wouldn't last long if he was crushed under one of those legs.

    "I can't do that!" Sam shouted in protest. Farhel leapt back to his feet and glanced over at his daughter. She was standing - wobbly so - with her sword in one hand, facing the beast with a fierce determination.

    Farhel cursed. "We can't kill it! You need to get the others to-" Farhel jumped back as the dog lunged at him, landing only a few feet from where one of its heads hit the the snow. "To safety!"

    Sam barked a laugh. "I can kill it," she said. Then she shot forward with a swiftness that shouldn't have been possible with her injuries, and leapt into the air. She landed on the buried head, grasping onto a patch of loose flesh. The beast lifted its heads high, the second head trying to bite at Sam. Its neck proved too short though, and it growled in frustration. Sam pulled herself forward, raised her sword, and brought it down into one of the dog's large, red eyes.

    The beast howled, rearing back on its hind legs as Sam twisted her sword deeper. It began to dance about, attempting to buck Sam off. The girl held on tight, her legs flapping in the air. She yanked her sword free, only to plunge it back down into the now wrecked cavern of an eye with a shout. A third and fourth strike sunk deep into the other eye.

    The pain drove the beast from its feet, landing heavily on its belly. Farhel wasted no time in shooting forward and sinking his own larger sword deep in the creature's belly. Using it as a footstand, he pulled himself up onto the beast's back and carefully crawled forward, straddling the other head. The beast, suddenly aware of its new rider, leapt back on its feet and frantically thrashed about. Farhel motioned to his daughter, and Sam tossed her sword over. He caught it - barely - and shoved it into one of the eyes of the second head. He twisted, freed the sword, and moved to strike at the other. The beast began to whimper as its attempts to dislodge its attackers died. Farhel finished his job with the last eye. With a cry, he calculated a smooth jump from the hell-hound's head and into the snow. He dived forward, out of the beast's range. Turning onto his back he saw Sam land lightly. Farhel rose with a grunt and moved forward. The beast had dropped to its belly again, its whines and howls piercing the night air, and was rubbing its snouts in the snow. Farhel grasped the hilt of his sword, still stuck in the hound's side, and yanked it out.

    Deciding that the beast would survive the damage, Farhel chose to enact a timely retreat. "Sam! Let's go! It'll be back up in a few moments." Sam came around the dog at a stumbling run, bloody sword in hand. "That was amazing!" he complemented her as she passed him with a smile and entered the trees. Silently he thanked her for saving his life, and knowing when it was truly time to go. He followed her into the trees, and with a last, worried glance back at the fallen creature, hurried back to camp.