I dug out a section of the channel the Echo Ant had torn open, right where it passed closest to our shelter. I lined it with smooth river stones, my chest wound finally feeling like a dull ache rather than a searing brand; it seemed my body was finally adapting to this new, unforgiving world. My plan was simple, but the reward was beyond price. I wedged the heavy wooden cage of the Red Slime directly beneath the narrow inlet where the water spilled into the pool.
The moment the ice-cold stream hit the intense, radiant heat of the slime, a thick, white veil of steam erupted, swirling into the air. Within seconds, the interior of the shelter transformed into a primitive but genuine bathhouse.
"This... this is impossible," Eliz whispered. She had set her bow aside, letting the rising heat wash over her face. The sharp lines of her features—etched by days of exhaustion and the biting frost—began to soften under the influence of the warmth.
I went in first. The water wasn't just warm; it was transformative. Layers of mud, dried bloodstains, and old slime secretions that had been caked on me for days dissolved into dark rings on the surface and washed away. As the hot water unknotted the terrible tension in my muscles, I felt like I could truly breathe for the first time. Eliz took her turn after me. Sitting in the quiet hiss of the steam, we both forgot for a moment that we were fugitives. We were just two people; cleaned, warmed, and alive.
"Even in Aethelgard," Eliz said, her voice muffled but peaceful through the mist, "it was rare to find warmth this pure. I'm never going back there."
Once we finished, we stepped outside in our steaming clothes. The residual heat in our bodies felt like a layer of armor against the freezing forest air. Our stomachs were full, and our minds were clear. I hooked the axe to my belt, and Eliz slung her silver bow over her shoulder, looking at me with a nod.
"We need to scout the perimeter," she said. "The water path might have carved a trail for more than just us."
We moved beyond the safe boundaries of the shelter, walking upstream along the bank. The forest was unusually quiet, as if nature itself were holding its breath, watching our small success. The frost on the pine needles crunched under our boots, and we let the crisp air fill our lungs. For the first time, I didn't feel like a victim; I felt like I belonged to this land.
However, as we reached a sharp bend where the stream curved around a steep slope, Eliz suddenly froze. Her hand went to her bowstring in a practiced reflex.
"Don't move," she hissed.
I turned my eyes to where she was staring, looking for whatever had broken the peace.
There, on the pristine white of the frost, were foreign marks.
Fresh, dark crimson stains. Blood. But the droplets were too large and irregular to belong to a wounded animal. The way the blood had pooled suggested someone heavily injured was dragging themselves forward. The trail of smears led deep into the darkest part of the woods, disappearing toward the massive, upturned roots of an ancient sycamore tree.
The warmth from the bath evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp dread. Neither of us spoke. We just stared at the fresh, steaming trail of blood. Was this an enemy, or was this to be the third resident of our haven? We didn't know.
The only thing we knew for certain was that our solitude had ended.
ESSENCE HAVEN
KINGDOM POPULATION: 2 (?)