[Chr24] Season of Fangs and Spikes

The breath of the four friends hung in the icy air, swirling in pale clouds as they stood motionless, their bodies taut with fear. The cold bit into their exposed skin, but none of them dared move to adjust their scarves or hoods. The wind howled through the dense forest, rattling the bare branches, carrying with it a stale, musty scent that turned their stomachs. They weren’t alone.

The cursed bucks loomed at the edge of the clearing, their glowing yellow eyes fixed unblinkingly on the group. Their spikes, twisted like the gnarled roots of ancient trees, scraped against the low-hanging branches above them, filling the air with sharp, grating sounds. Frost clung to their thick, matted fur, and their breath came in deep, guttural snorts, each exhale steaming in the frigid air.

For a moment, the clearing was deathly quiet, save for the faint whistle of the wind. It was a standoff—two groups locked in stillness, neither daring to make the first move.

Torrent’s grip tightened on his makeshift spear, his knuckles white beneath his gloves. The jagged wooden shaft trembled slightly in his hands. He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Llyr,” he hissed, his voice low, barely above a whisper, “tell me you’ve got something. Anything.”

Llyr didn’t answer right away. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his usually quick, easy wit seemed to have frozen along with the ground beneath their feet. His fingers twitched at his side, resting near the hilt of his knife. “If by ‘something,’ you mean a plan to avoid getting gored, then no,” he muttered. “If you mean ‘a death wish,’ then sure. Got that in spades.”

Mina shifted slightly, her boots crunching in the snow, and the nearest buck let out a warning growl, its massive clawed feet stomping against the frozen earth. She froze, hands fumbling at her belt where a small throwing axe dangled. “We can’t just stand here waiting to die,” she whispered sharply, her breath fogging the air. “Seren, please tell me you’ve got something better than him.” She jerked her head toward Llyr.

Seren didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she dropped to one knee, her movements slow and deliberate, her head bowed as she pressed a gloved palm to the snow. The air around her seemed to change, growing heavier, charged with an energy that made the hairs on Torrent’s neck stand on end. She whispered softly, the words foreign and melodic, as though pulled from some ancient tongue long forgotten.

The bucks faltered.

Their glowing eyes flickered, dimming for a moment, and their snarls turned to uneasy grumbles. One of the beasts shook its head violently, as if trying to clear away a fog, its massive antlers slamming into a tree trunk with a hollow thud. Another took a half-step back, its massive back paw crunching into the snow.

Torrent’s gaze darted between Seren and the towering creatures. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” he urged, his voice a mix of awe and desperation.

But Seren’s face was pale, her lips trembling as her whispers grew softer. “I can’t… hold it,” she murmured, her voice strained. “They’re too far gone. The curse… it’s too strong.”

As if they had been waiting for her to falter, the bucks began to move again, their steps slow but deliberate. Their massive claws crunched through the snow, leaving deep, jagged impressions. Their spikes, sharp as daggers, glinted in the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. A chilling realization settled over the group like the weight of an avalanche—they were being hunted.

Torrent squared his shoulders, his breath quickening. His mind raced, searching for options, but they all seemed to end the same way: blood in the snow. “We can’t outrun them,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the hammering of his heart. “And there’s no way we can fight them. Seren, is there any chance they can change back?”

Seren looked up at him, her normally calm, steady eyes filled with uncertainty. Her hand trembled as she pulled it back from the snow. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, the words nearly choking her. “It’s not impossible, but… they’d need to still be tethered to their human forms. If the curse has fully taken them—”

“We don’t have time for maybes,” Mina interrupted sharply, pulling her axe free and holding it at her side. “We either gamble that they’re still ‘tethered,’ or we start swinging and hope for the best.”

Llyr snorted, his hands steady now as he drew his blade, the steel catching the faint light. “Not much of a choice, is it? I say we take our chances running.”

Before Torrent could respond, one of the bucks stepped forward, its massive frame blocking the moonlight. Its head lowered, jagged spikes pointed directly at them. A low, rumbling snarl escaped its throat, vibrating through the air and rattling their bones. Its foot struck the ground with a crack, sending spiderweb fractures through the ice.

Torrent’s voice dropped to a whisper, his tone grim. “No running. Not now.” He looked at each of them in turn, his expression hardening. “We stand together. Seren, try again. Mina, watch her back. Llyr… be ready.”

The bucks moved in unison now, their circle tightening around the group. The sound of cracking branches and crunching snow filled the air, drowning out the wind.

Seren closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she reached deep into whatever magic she could still muster. The energy rippled faintly, a warm pulse against the biting cold. For a moment, just a moment, the bucks hesitated again.

Their eyes flickered—not yellow, but something softer, almost human. Maybe this was going to be possible?

But then a branch snapped behind them. The sound echoed out across the forest like a gunshot through the clearing.

The spell broke. The chance was gone. The lead buck reared up, its spikes scraping the sky as it let out an earth-shaking roar.

“Move!” Torrent shouted, raising his spear just as the beasts charged.