She followed him back along the trail they had come from. The path was more familiar now; he was beginning to recognize certain trees, certain root formations. His spatial memory was working, at least.
Minutes later, they arrived back at the clearing where he had left the knocked-out brute.
But there was something different now.
Noise.
Sounds of chewing. Jaw snapping. A wet, crunchy sound that made his stomach churn. And a smell, strong, nauseating, of meat and... shit, was that blood? Old blood, fresh blood, and a strange chemical odor, like crushed insects.
Hawke stopped at the edge of the clearing, raising his arm to stop Kaira as well. His muscles tensed instantly, the club rising in his hand in an automatic reflex.
The hairy man was still there.
But he wasn't alone. Hawke looked closer and saw insects.
Five of them. Each the size of a large dog. They looked like beetles, but deformed, strange, as if someone had taken the idea of a beetle and distorted it in a more aggressive direction. Shiny black carapaces that reflected the light filtering through the trees. Giant mandibles that moved like scissors, opening and closing in a mechanical rhythm. Spiny legs that dug into the ground with each movement, leaving deep holes.
And they were devouring the brute.
The hairy man's body was unrecognizable. One of the insects had its head buried in its abdomen, its mandibles working in a rhythmic motion. Another was tearing pieces off the leg, its carapace swaying with the effort. A third seemed to be fighting over a piece of the arm with a fourth, their bodies colliding in a silent duel for food.
Blood everywhere. Guts scattered. A smell of death that was almost palpable.
One of the insects raised its head. Its antennae moved, testing the air, picking up new smells. It detected movement. He detected two fresh humans there, standing, alive. The insect's many eyes, compound, multifaceted, bright, focused on them.
Hawke felt the gaze like a physical touch.
"Holy shit."
The whisper came out involuntarily, more of a breath than a word.
The insect hissed.
It was a sharp, shrill sound that made the hairs on Hawke's neck stand on end and a chill run down his spine. The other four insects stopped eating instantly. Their heads rose in unison, as if controlled by the same will. Their mandibles stopped moving, dripping blood and fragments of flesh.
Dozens of eyes fixed on them.
Time froze for an eternal second.
'Shit, shit, shit, I shouldn't leave him abandoned like this.'
Hawke took a step forward, placing himself between Kaira and the insects. The club rose automatically, held securely with both hands, positioned diagonally in front of his body. Basic protection. Instinct.
"Step back."
He spoke without taking his eyes off the creatures, his voice calmer than he expected.
"Stay behind me."
He heard Kaira take a few steps back behind him, the egg sack rustling with the movement. Good. At least she wouldn't get in the way.
She'll probably defend the sack, Hawke thought, his eyes fixed on the insects. And if something happens to me, she won't think twice about running away. That's what anyone would do.
What he didn't understand was why she hadn't done it right then and there. It was the perfect opportunity, while he was distracted by the insects, and the insects were distracted by him, it was the perfect moment to sneak away with the eggs. Disappear into the forest. Leave the stranger behind.
But she didn't do it. She stayed.
'I'll think about it later.'
The first insect lunged, while the others seemed to get into flight position, their elytra flared open, revealing vibrating, translucent wings.
It came crawling fast, its legs moving at a frenetic pace that was disturbing to watch, a continuous flow of spines and joints that seemed more machine than living being. Its mandibles opened, large enough to tear off a considerable chunk of flesh. Inside its mouth, smaller teeth moved, ready to grind.
Hawke waited.
It wasn't a conscious decision. His body simply knew what to do. The posture, the balance, the timing; everything came automatically, as if he had done it a thousand times before. He let the creature come, approach, fill his field of vision.
When the insect was close enough, he attacked.
The club came down in a vertical stroke with full force. The movement was perfect, the body weight transferred to the blow, the hip rotating, the arm extending at the exact moment.
It hit right in the middle of the carapace with a satisfying "CRACK".
The shell cracked, a long fissure opening in the center, but it didn't break completely. The insect hissed, a sharp sound of pain and surprise. Its hind legs gave way, its body slumping to the side. But it still moved, its mandibles opening and closing in an aggressive reflex.
Hawke watched for a moment. The insect was agonizing, its legs moving uncontrollably, trying to find something to grab onto. A green liquid began to ooze from the crack in the carapace, viscous, shiny, with a chemical smell.
Gradually, the movements slowed down. They stopped.
'Not very resilient, Hawke assessed. A well-placed blow is enough.'
One dead. Four to go.
Two came together this time. One in front, the other a little behind, flanking. Basic group hunting strategy.
"Yes, come. Come."
The first one attacked, a direct charge, jaws wide open. Hawke dodged to the side, letting the creature pass close by. In the movement, the club came down in a sideways stroke. It wasn't very precise, almost a graze, but it hit the insect on the side of its body.
The impact broke one of its wings with a dry crack and tore off some legs, which flew through the air. The creature fell to the ground, near Hawke, squealing furiously but unable to move properly.
The second one came through the air.
Hawke heard the buzzing of the wings before he saw it, a deep, vibrant sound that seemed to come from all sides. He turned in time to see the insect flying towards him, its mandibles aimed at his neck, ready to tear it off.
There was no time to dodge.