The quiet of a lonely beach on Crete was interrupted by the sound of foam smacking against the pebbles that sloped down to the sand. Immediately, the sound of women talking joined the beat of the slapping as Gabriella and Chloe approached the little enclave of paradise that they planned on spending the afternoon occupying. “Nice, just as beautiful as the concierge said,” Gabbi remarked, earning an eager nod of agreement from Chloe. “This is great! Our first beach day as wife and wife!” she exclaimed. The two had gotten married in the US but wanted to take their honeymoon as far away from their home state of Michigan as they could. Gabbi used much of her salary from her first year as a full-fledged software engineer to fund this tradition-mandated excursion. Chloe couldn’t contribute, being that she was still finishing nursing school (in fact, this was the only week of the year she could spare not working). But that was fine. Gabbi didn’t care who pays, so long as she can spend time with her. So many things in Gabriella’s life cause her stress, but it always seems so much more manageable when Chloe’s around. It was a big reason why she knew she wanted to marry her! Not to mention her cheeriness, her wit, her insane cooking skills, the way her light brown hair shone in the sun…

“What?” Chloe chuckled, making Gabbi realize she had been staring at Chloe, not saying anything while she lost herself in adoration for her wife. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I might love you,” Gabbi teased. “Shut up!” Chloe laughed, placing her bag and a cooler down on a clearing of gravel just before the beach. Gabbi put a large tote bag down next to it and got out the sunscreen, two beach towels, and two hats. Standard issue beach lounging gear, she remembered what one of her mothers always called that particular set of equipment when they’d go to the beach in her native Florida. What a strange woman. Did I inherit any of that? Gabbi turned to take a bottle of water and a hard lemonade from the cooler, then removed her black flip flops, setting them next to Chloe’s odd choice of footwear. “I have to ask again, why crocs, Clo?”

Chloe shrugged, “What? They’re comfy! And trust me, one of these days they will be trendy. Then you’ll see!”

Gabbi shook her head, “I guess anything’s possible. That brand is what, like 20 years old or something--”

“25 years old. The first croc was made in 2002.”

“Oh, excuse me! Well, if a company which makes… that can stay alive that long then maybe it will have its time.”

“See, you see it my way! That’s why I married you, dontchaknow!” Chloe giggled, tapping her bright blue crocs with her toes, still with the fresh white nail color she got for the wedding. Gabbi put sunscreen on the front side of her body, then handed her wife the bottle. Chloe took her white T-shirt off and began liberally applying the cream to herself. “Gabs, get my back, will ya?” She handed the sunscreen back to Gabbi, who obliged her lover, “Now I have to ask, Gabbi, why are you still wearing that one-piece? I feel like you’ve never worn anything other than that to the beach in all the time I’ve known you!”

Gabbi snorted, “Well, I got a good deal on it! And it survived so much, I just want to see how long it lasts, you know? Plus, as you well know, yellow is my favorite color.” She finished applying sunscreen to her wife, and turned around for Chloe to reciprocate on the exposed parts of her back and neck. Chloe began rubbing, “Of course, I know, I know. I guess I’ll just be the one innovating on the style, then. Crocs and bikinis, it’ll be the newest sensation, just you wait!” Chloe closed the sunscreen bottle and got some water from the cooler and a large inflatable beach ball from her bag. Then the women took their hats, drinks, and towels and headed down to the beach to play in the ocean, get tipsy, and soak up the sun. Little did they know, someone else was there at the beach, with very different plans for the day…

----- Edge of the Great Desert, North of Wormwood, by the Forbidden Women’s Path -----

The relative quiet of the massive desert just before the mighty sea was interrupted by a series of short earthquakes, making the sound of sharp thundercracks. Azrael paid little attention to it, covering himself deeper in his leaf blankets under his luxury tarp. Just women, he thought. May be a problem, but they’re probably going to the desert. Azrael and his group of males were camped on the crags just before the desert, around six miles from the Forbidden Women’s Path; the name being from the way giants visiting the desert stuck to one main line that sloped most gently down the craggy rocks. Few women deviated from this path, so it was generally safe for their tiny counterparts to camp up among the great stones. Despite the location’s provision of safety from women, few men bothered to live here or even traverse it due to its challenging terrain. That was essential for a bandit group like the Bloodfangs, the gang Azrael ran with. It was a good arrangement: all you needed to do was rob one caravan a week, or maybe loot a village once a month, and you’d be set to actually enjoy life, something of a rarity for a wild man. Being in a good raider group meant as much stealing and killing as it did drinking, carousing, and bedding the finest men this side of the sea can offer. Of course, for all the good times, there were still plenty of bad times. This past year was most certainly the latter. Too many botched robberies, too many drunken brawls that got out of hand, and a bad outbreak of disease had killed or run off much of the band. A year ago, they were 120 men strong; now they numbered only 30. Still enough to hit caravans, but we can’t stay in one place long. Hence, Azrael reasoned, why their leader (and the group’s namesake) Sardis the Bloodfang had them cowering up among the rocks. Doesn’t explain why we’ve been here nearly a month, but maybe he’s waiting for the settlements nearby to get soft and complacent. Sardis was normally decisive, honestly impulsive at times. That even he would be this cautious underscored the peril this gang found themselves in.

For his part, Azrael appreciated this cautiousness. Patience is not a quality often instilled in young men; rather, it is a curse of the old, built and reinforced through the anguish of witnessing the effects of hasty judgement and rash decisions. Azrael certainly felt cursed, being well into his forties. Men do not typically live this long; life is tragic, painful, and short. Most wild men die before their 30th birthday, and those who do end up making it past that often wish they hadn’t. Azrael was not like most men. He wanted life, and the thought of dying, even to relieve his suffering, terrified him. It was why he joined the bandits in the first place, not as a warrior or a scout, but as an herbalist and a healer. This, along with his age, garnered him immense privilege and respect, not to mention a guarantee of safety. Any warrior worth his salt will defend his unit’s healer with the might and fury of a woman, as his old unit commander used to say, back in Azrael’s time in a mercenary band.

Azrael listened to the thunderous steps of the women, until he heard three large quakes, followed by the relative stillness of what seemed to be women moving their bodies, but not their feet. Hmm, what are they doing? His curiosity now piqued, he got up and stepped out of his tent. There, he saw some men standing by Sardis, who was on the ground sharpening a wooden shortspear, staring intently at the giant women in the far distance. Azrael could see them rubbing some kind of white paste on each other. I’ve seen other women do that before, elsewhere. Is it some religious ritual? Are deserts holy places for women? Maybe they worship some desert or sea goddess? It hadn’t occurred to him that women would even have something to worship, being so powerful on their own. Azrael gently pushed past the men and up to Sardis, standing right beside him. Sardis was a behemoth: at 3mm tall and with the strength of a beetle he was easily the biggest man Azrael had ever seen. Despite the fact that Sardis was sitting, Azrael was standing at eye level with him. It was enough to cause most men to uncontrollably shake around Sardis. Nevertheless, Azrael spoke as if he were talking with his nephew, “Sardis, I see that look. What are you going to do?”

“I’m getting this gang back on its feet. You see what’s going on. One more botched job and we’re done for.”

Azrael scratched his bushy beard. He couldn’t argue, the facts were on Sardis’s side. “Right, but what exactly are you planning? You want to, what, see if anyone runs from the women then hit ‘em then? Ambush ‘em if they get up into the crags?”

Sardis put the spear down, “No. We’re thieving from the women.”

Azrael had heard, seen, and done plenty of crazy, downright stupid things in his long life, but even he was taken aback. Stealing from women was a guaranteed death sentence. Even if they don’t see you, giant women have a tendency to stir up all kinds of fear-stricken bugs, birds, and animals. Provided one survives detection or collateral damage from all of them, women also have a tendency of moving the massive objects of their world unpredictably, with obvious fatal consequences for the weak, fragile male near her. Robbing women was not a move made by the desperate, it was a move made by the suicidal. Azrael, too shocked to pull Sardis aside for a private scolding, tried to talk the Goliath out of his foolishness publicly, “W-What? Sardis, if you’re dumb enough to think—”

“Don’t give me that, old man.” Sardis stood up to his full height and towered over the healer. This tactic could get a younger man to soil himself and fall in line, but Azrael’s age gave him the stubbornness to resist intimidation. Sardis continued, “We can’t go on hitting men. Too many know our tactics and know how we run jobs. Worse, no one respects us anymore. If they aren’t killing us, they’re laughing at us. And you know, a raider’s only as good as his reputation. If we’re laughing stocks, we may as well slit our throats now.”

Azrael could see where Sardis was going, “Holy shit. You want to rob these women for the notoriety. That’s…”

Sardis got louder, now turning toward the men assembled behind him, “It’ll make us legends. Gods. We could get whatever we want, go wherever we want, fuck whoever we want. Just on reputation alone. You’ve all run with me for long enough. You know how they all see us. They’re wrong about us. We know we’re strong, capable, dangerous fucking men, and we’ll show them!”

He motioned to the men, “Who was strong enough to fight off Lord Smyrna’s army while outnumbered 3 to 1?”

“Bloodfangs!” The crowd responded.

“Who was clever enough to outmaneuver the Rangers of Ephesus and hit three caravans in the same night?”

“Bloodfangs!!”

“And who’s brave enough to rob from those women over in the desert!”

“BLOODFANGS!” The crowd cheered as they ran off to break camp and make for the massive structures the women left behind on their meandering into the great desert. Azrael swallowed, smiling at the men to feign confidence and hide his anxiety.

We are so dead.

----- The Beach, four hours later ----

Gabbi woke up from an alcohol-induced nap with her head on Chloe’s shoulder as Chloe lay on her back, a book she had been reading closed to her side, having wrapped her arm around Gabbi tightly. Their time at the beach had transitioned from playing in the shallow waters to a relaxing lounging under a palm tree. Gabbi nuzzled Chloe to get her attention, “Hey. How was it?”

Chloe moved to her side, bringing her arm off Gabbi as she began to gently stroke her wife’s wavy black hair, “It was alright. I didn’t get much out of the love interest. Her character was really awfully done. It’s like the author has no clue how to write about women in love!”

Gabbi cooed, “Awww. I’m sorry, hon. We got what, two more hours of good daylight? Let’s tan for a bit!”

Chloe smiled, “Sure! The tan lotion is in my bag.”

“I’ll go get it. And some more lemonade…” She winked at Chloe as she slowly got up and adjusted her swimsuit. Shaking the sand that had gotten in her hair, she sauntered over to the gravel clearing and rifled through the bag for the lotion, when she noticed movement by the cooler. She looked closer, and saw… it was a man! Then she realized he wasn’t alone. There were twenty, maybe even thirty of the little things all swarming their stuff! “EEEKKK!” Gabbi threw the lotion bottle at the first man, pulverizing him. She sprinted away, unknowingly kicking up bits of sand and gravel. Chloe, already up hearing the commotion, met Gabbi halfway up the beach, “Woah, woah, what’s the matter, babe!?”

Gabbi stammered, “Fucking—ack, fucking men! All over our shit!” Her face was beet red and she was shaking. Chloe responded, “Okay, okay. Why don’t I take care of them for you? You head back and move our towels to get out of the shade. Sound good?” Gabbi took a deep breath, calming down from her fear spiral, “Okay, sounds good. I’m sorry I got upset. Is it alright if I hug you?” Chloe held back tears at her consideration, “Of course. Come here,” they embraced each other tightly, and Chloe kissed the top of Gabbi’s head. Gabbi’s shaking subsided, and they parted to perform their duties.

----- Wormwood Territory, just beside the Forbidden Women’s Path, 1 hour prior ------

“Go on, Bloodfangs! Good luck with your theivin’!” The fat man with the large hat which signified his importance spat at Sardis, who only clutched his fists to hold his rage back. Sardis couldn’t do what he normally would do when mocked this way, that is, crush the man’s head with one fist, as he and his raiders were surrounded by around 100 males. 100 males who had just relieved the Bloodfangs of most of their weapons and supplies. “If you happen to survive, be sure to come on back! We’ll return your equipment, I promise!” The fat man howled in laughter as he motioned for his men to head back to their village a few miles away. “This is why we should have gone around this field, Sardis. We know they’re protective of their territory,” chastised Azrael, who was clearly getting on Sardis’s nerves with his criticisms. “Enough,” Sardis retorted. “You are not the leader. Nor are you my father. I don’t answer to you.” Azrael just scowled, as his tolerance of the giant before him sunk to new lows. The march had been awful thus far. In the few hours of walking to the women’s supplies they had lost all their food, all their camping equipment, and now almost all their weapons. All they now had was the clothes on their backs, and a few climbing spikes. And those were only left as a joke by that militia leader. Oh so funny. Azrael thought about how much more funny it would be to see one of the women tear the fat man apart, but his attention quickly turned back to the journey ahead, nearly finished as the women’s supplies were in sight. I have to focus. There’s a good chance we won’t make it out alive. Azrael was not a coward, but neither was he slavishly loyal. If things do go bad, he’ll run for it, find a new outfit to join, or perhaps go to a village where no one knows his name and settle down. He could easily make a living as a healer; all men needed someone to treat their health ailments. Treating dysentery and flea bite wounds all day sounds… boring, but it’s better than being dead. Probably should have left this group months ago, anyway. But regret will not help him live through this. With a long sigh, he watched as Sardis waved for the men to move out, and followed solemnly behind, not bothering to hide his pessimism anymore.

The final approach to the women’s supplies impressed upon the men their true insignificance. The massive towers, bigger than any man-made object they had ever seen, filled them with foreboding. Each male was fixated with dread, wondering if they were trifling with the gods, tempting fate too much, or just stupid for even trying this and not simply stabbing Sardis and running away. Sardis, for his part, seemed more confident than ever. Grinning with anticipation, he seemed to already be imagining himself with an army at his back and a beautiful man from some tavern many miles away by his side. He barked out his orders, “All right, men to my left, go for the tan tower by the palm tree. Men to the right, head for the red tower. Bring everything you can carry. Burner, Cutter, go search the black platforms. Caie, Old Man, you come with me. We’re going to the blue caves over there. Any man comes back empty-handed, I’ll break his legs and let the women have their way. You have your orders! Go! Bring us glory!” The men shouted battle cries, either out of fear or frenzied loyalty, and sprinted to their dooms.

Sardis’s party approached their destination fast, Sardis carrying a large set of wooden spikes. Azrael could already see why: the entrance to the blue caves, what he guessed to be footwear for the giants, was high off the ground. Great, climbing. With my back? 50/50 chance I fall and die right here, he thought, grimacing at himself. Nonetheless, he followed the massive leader up to the wall of the cave, and looked afield to see where the others went. As he did, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he saw one of the women walking toward them! Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Sardis, woman approaching!” He shouted, with Sardis already half of the way up the footwear. “I feel her. Don’t worry, just climb once I get up.” It was odd, even for a fearless beast like Sardis, to be so serene when an angel of death was fast approaching. Azrael began to grow suspicious. Why did he bring me and Caie here? Neither of us are good fighters or particularly agile, boy’s a cook and I’m old. He lost his train of thought as he saw two spikes fall before him. Sardis shouted from the top of the blue platform, “Come on, climb! Old man first, then you, boy.” Azrael grabbed the spikes and began his slow trek upwards. After excruciating effort, likely permanently damaging some ligaments in his arms, he finally made it up, throwing the spikes out and listening for Caie to begin his climb, a feat he accomplished far faster than the seasoned healer. With all of them up, they pressed into the footwear, its odd flooring squishing and giving slightly as they stepped. The smell added to its alien quality. The smell of grime and sweat, of course, but also a strange, sweet scent. Something resembling fruit. Do women use oils to hide their scent? A bit like the wealthier males in the big cities. Interesting. And why are there holes everywhere? Footwear that covers the entire foot shouldn’t have holes, right? What’s the point of them? Are these some sort of status symbol for women? Azrael would have pondered this more, but as they reached the end of the footwear, Sardis stopped and turned to his two followers,

“Alright, old man, you’re smart, so you probably figured out I didn’t pick you at random to come with me.”

Azrael was perplexed by his tone, he spoke like a child admitting to breaking his fathers’ property, “Why aren’t you more concerned about the woman, Sardis? She’s here, she can probably see us.” As if on cue, their eardrums were nearly shattered by a massive scream. The woman had spotted them! They heard a loud crash, the loudest thing any of them ever heard, as a massive brown object flew at a male standing near the red tower, killing him instantly. Sardis just looked as she ran away, “This was never going to work. We’ve been limping towards death for the last month. These women aren’t my chance at glory, they’re my chance to escape. Our chance to escape.” Azrael stayed silent, eyes wide with shock. Sardis continued, “Caie has a friend of an uncle with access to stowage on a ship. It’s bound for another continent, a few months away, but the journey’s been done before, and no one there knows anything about anyone here. We can start over. The three of us. A new gang, new targets, new opportunities. Hell, we could give up robbing, start a real mercenary band. You came from that life, you know how good being on the right side of the law can be.” Azrael stammered, “I- I don’t know what to say. You’d really leave? Why get your men killed?” Sardis glanced away in shame, “Loose ends. Can’t have someone follow us to settle a score. They were dead men anyway. If not the women, then something else. Don’t waste time thinking about them.” He seemed to be talking to himself as much as he was talking to Azrael. Sardis looked back at the old healer, “What do you say? You want to run? You want to live?”

“I- I don’t… okay, Sardis. I’ll go.” Azrael didn’t like it, but he’d had doubts about their survival so long that any chance of getting away was worth taking. Even if it was so… underhanded. Sardis was a cold, ruthless killer, yes, but rarely did he deceive. He just isn’t a conniver. Immediately, Azrael doubted Caie and his “connection” and expected betrayal from the boy. He’ll try to sell us into slavery, or maybe get us imprisoned. We both have big bounties. Payout like that for a young man would set him up good. But in spite of the obviousness of the trap, it was his only option. “So, what now? Do we just run for it?” Sardis shook his head, “No. We wait. The woman will probably come back and kill everyone she sees. We just hide out, and once she leaves, we break for it. If she tries to take the cave, we hop out of one of the holes and sprint to the grass,” just from his tone Azrael could tell Sardis was regretting this. Your regret will deepen when we get out of here. If we get out. The three men looked on as the other raiders frantically tried to climb their targets, not able to make any progress, when they saw the other woman, taller and more slender than the first, approach her belongings. She had an expression that sent shivers down Azrael’s spine. It wasn’t revulsion, fear, or even anger.

It was glee.

----- The Beach, Crete ----

Chloe had to admit it: while yes, men are disgusting, and yes, seeing her newlywed wife upset does not feel great, she kind of looked forward to ‘dealing’ with the men. There’s just something about their movements, how they seem to almost grasp the ability to predict her actions and dodge her steps that makes crushing them oddly relaxing and engaging. Given her abject boredom from the trash novel she just burned through, this might help her achieve that nirvana of pleasure she was supposed to experience during a honeymoon. She walked over to their stuff and saw the men frantically scurrying around, looking for any way to get into one of the bags. Quick little things, aren’t you! she thought, Yeah, this’ll be fun. Chloe just stood there for a second, wriggling her toes in the gravel as she planned out her attacks. There were about ten men by Gabbi’s bag, fourteen men by their cooler, and two men by their shoes. Okay, cooler first, then bag, then shoes? Sure, let’s go. She went to the cooler, seeing a group of males trying to flee toward the crocs. Nope, not in there! She swept her right foot over the gravel, pushing the men into a pile, and pressed the ball of her foot down, squeezing them into a gory juice. The squelching of their bodies felt wonderful on her skin. Next, the others at the foot of the cooler. Bringing a heel up parallel with her pelvis, she aimed a powerful stomp on most of the males. They tried to get out of the way, but they were just too small. Her heel slammed into them, utterly annihilating the insects and sending the surrounding males flying. She more gently pressed her heel on each of the stragglers, killing them all in a series of instant pops. Mmmm, so relaxing.

She walked up to Gabbi’s bag, blocking the men’s escape by spreading her legs out slightly past her hips. Five of them were on the strap of the bag, trying to climb up the cloth ladder into safety, while the other five sat at the base of the bag, unable to move anywhere. She looked down at the men at the base, her gaze rousing them to action. Ah, there it is, the recognition. One man tried running between her feet, so he will be the first victim here. She lifted her foot, toes pointed downwards, and shoved her big toe right on the insect, splattering his body and sending blood and guts outward onto one of the other males. Feeling a rare twinge of pity for the little thing, she swiftly crushed him under the same toe. The other males began their escape attempt, with two running away from the bag, but one running to the bag to try to climb its wall. Chloe dealt with the two would-be escapees by gently placing her toes over them, plucking them up and gripping them tight. One quick scrunch of her toes mashed the males into jam and stimulated the sensitive underside of Chloe’s foot, eliciting a small groan of satisfaction. Flicking their remains out, she turned her attention to the last one left here. She thought of all the myriad ways she could kill him, but decided she’d get more pleasure out of killing his friends too, so she simply pointed her toes forward and kicked him, vaporizing his top half leaving a tiny, bloody stump next to the beach bag. Next, she squatted over the five males at the bag strap. Y’know, I could use a drink, Chloe thought, stretching her body over to the cooler and grabbing a hard lemonade from the icy chest. Looming over the men, she opened the can, took a small sip, then said out loud, “You boys want some? Here, try it!” She poured a smattering of the alcohol onto the males, washing them out in a flood of sugary liquid. She looked on in amusement as the tiny bugs struggled and drowned, some of them smacking into bits of gravel. She picked up a handful of pebbles and held it over the surviving males, dropping the load and burying them alive. She stood up, satisfied that the bag had been cleansed of males.

Lastly, the two on her wife’s flip flops. They had been running from the strap to the heel, but as she approached they froze in place. Oh, you like her flip flops, do you? Have you seen the underside? She imagined how she’d taunt them if they could understand her. But instead, she used her blood-speckled foot to brush the bugs off her wife’s footwear, and grabbed the flip flop. She held it over the men, bringing it up and down as if building up for a strike, then slammed it down on the gravel. The men had no chance to even perceive the foam coming down on them as they were instantly smashed into red goo. Chloe surveyed their things once more, and seeing no more males, got the lotion off the ground where Gabbi threw it, and looked back towards the beach. Gabbi was sitting cross-legged in the sun, her swimsuit off, looking at Chloe with a grin of gratitude. Chloe skipped over, ready to throw a nice tan in with this lovely day.

----- The Great Blue Cave -----
“What have I done?” Sardis looked shaken at the wholesale slaughter he caused. A look of crushing regret was not one he wore often. “We’ll be fine, boss,” Caie tried consoling the man, “They were dead weight anyway. The two of you, you’re the brains and brawn of this gang. Always have been.” Azrael wanted to smack the insolent ass-kissing tone right out of Caie, but instead he simply tried to distract Sardis from the manipulation, “They were good men. You gave them a family. Even if only for a few years, they had family here.” Sardis sunk to his knees, “And now they’re dead. Nothing to burn or bury. Just broken flesh.” Caie stared

forward, unfazed, “Now, we escape. The woman left. Let’s go and—”

“NO. We stay for a moment. I want to remember them. Every face, every name, every memory I have. I will honor them all. We wait.” Sardis growled with such ferocity it even intimidated Azrael. He and Caie simply stood back as Sardis bowed his head, saying a name, reciting a long prayer, then saying another name and repeating. He’s sending them all off. That’s a decent man.

While they stood still, letting the ambient noise of the desert wash over them, Azrael found himself transfixed by the brutality employed by the giant woman. He had seen ruthless slaughter before, but it was usually men doing the slaughtering; a woman’s sadistic rampage inspired a more primal, visceral terror in her witnesses. It wasn’t just her size. Azrael had seen apocalyptic floods during the rainy parts of the year. Villages and towns full of males washed away to the sea. When he was a mercenary, he had survived a tree branch falling and crushing the entire band except him and a smattering of lucky males out of formation. Those times were frightening but not like this. The emotion of seeing that woman crush his comrades was truly paralyzing. He wondered if the males raised in captivity, destined to be used for whatever purposes their giant mistresses deign for them, experience this fear when their time is up. Was it his taste for life which produced this awe, this reinforcement of his utter worthlessness? Or is there something common to the male species which drowns them in true fear when faced with a woman’s wrath?

Hours passed as Sardis exhausted the list of all the men who had, at any time, served under him. Whether they left, got arrested, or just plain died, he sang their names to the heavens, and blessed their memories with prayer. Had they not just survived a mass slaughter through sheer luck, Azrael may have been brought to tears by the whole thing. He found his confidence shaken, his detachment from the stress of the situation failing to stop fear from gripping him. I may truly die here. I am so stupid. Why did I not leave!? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Azrael closed his eyes, using a mental technique to balance himself into a less emotional state. I am on the sea, on a ship. It rocks to the right, then it rocks to the left, then it rocks to the right, then it rocks to the left… Slowly, he calmed himself a little, now just a major problem away from total mental breakdown rather than a minor problem. Meanwhile, Caie was spending his time getting angrier and flagrantly displaying his cowardice. He grew impatient with the memorializing, clearly nervous about being near the women, so close to death. He needs to learn to be comfortable with the threat of dying. He’s going to live on the edge of a knife for the rest of his life. Azrael wished he respected the boy more; then, he might just try to teach him something about life and courage. Caie sighed as Sardis stood, “Boss, you finally done? Every man accounted for? Then let’s get going.”

“You need more respect for the dead, little one. You helped me ensure the death of 27 of those names.”

Caie snorted, “I don’t give a fuc- “

He stopped as the men’s stomachs all dropped at the sound they heard. Buzzing. Loud buzzing. Something’s coming. “SHIT. Duck!” Azrael snapped at the two as he scrambled to the floor, hoping to avoid grabbing the attention of whatever was out there. Almost as quickly as it came, the buzzing receded. Azrael stayed down, knowing it was likely still around, it just flew up into the trees to survey more of its hunting ground. The possibilities of what exactly it was were nearly endless, but before he could go through the list in his head, Caie shouted at an unreasonable volume, “FUCK THIS. We need to go, NOW!”

“Shhhh! It’ll hear you!” Azrael wanted to punch the foolish man even more now. “We just have to wait. If it doesn’t find fresh food, it’ll leave.”

“No, we need to flee! If we wait, something else’ll come and it may find us!”

“Stop. You’re panicking and you’re speculating. Be rational, and fucking stay calm. You want to risk getting eaten or stung to death, go ahead. But we’re staying.” Azrael glanced over at Sardis, his eyes glazed over as uncharacteristic panic began to surface in the giant man.

Caie spat back at Azrael, “That’s fine by me! Stay here and die with your shit leader! I won’t mourn your names,” He turned and leapt out of one of the holes, and sprinted out toward one of the blood stains, where a small pouch of supplies remained somewhat intact from the giant’s rampage. As he ran, out in the open, the loud buzzing came back.

* (gore here)

I warned him. Azrael tried to assuage his guilt as he awaited the inevitable. The source of the buzzing revealed itself: a massive winged monster, with black and yellow stripes wrapping along its body, and a stinger more than half the size of a man. Azrael knew it by many names, and heard many stories of what it could do. He’d heard of just one of these things annihilating an entire village of males. And Caie was just a single, very slow, very conspicuous man. Easy prey. I warned him. He looked on in horror as the flying beast dove on Caie, knocking him over with its legs. It watched him for a brief moment, letting Caie truly absorb the horror of its form, until it shot its mandibles down, compacting his body in a sickening, wet crunch. The beast chewed him over and over until Caie became homogenous paste. Then, it flew away. Sardis asked, nearly whispering, “Why didn’t it swallow? W-w-w-why- “

* (gore's over)

“It’s going to feed him to its young.” Azrael could only hold shock in his heart, no other emotion was left. I warned him. I warned him. I warned him. I. Warned. Him. The old man couldn’t take it anymore. Everything he said to do, they did the opposite. And they paid the price. He wanted to run, just like Caie. To sprint into the leaves and keep running and never look back. But he knew it was foolish to do that. To leave would get him killed. To leave the cave… is death. To leave the cave is death! I understand now. Azrael felt a shift in himself as everything clicked in his head. I…I must stay here. Where it is safe. He sat upright in place, feeling the strange springy floor barely shift with his weight.

Sardis looked even more concerned, “Old man? What are you doing? We need a plan. What should we do?”

Azrael just ignored him.

Sardis’s face ran red, “Old one. Azrael! I don’t know what to do! Help— “

THUD…

THUD…

THUD…

“Footsteps. Two sets of them. They’re coming back.” Azrael said flatly.

Sardis choked back tears as the fear finally overwhelmed him, “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T DIE!”

Azrael chuckled, “We won’t die. Not in here. Not unless we’re disrespectful.”

Sardis spat, walking away from the crazy old man, “Fuck you! You’ve lost it! If you don’t help me out of here, I… I- “

He stopped talking as he saw the taller woman slide her foot in the shoe. Her gargantuan toes, still decorated with flecks of gore, slid at the men like fire ants charging a rival colony. Azrael just stayed in place, eyes shut, while Sardis, a good twenty paces from Azrael, turned to sprint away from the woman, but he tripped on the rubber floor. Sardis the Bloodfang let out one scream of abject terror, the only one he ever made in his life, as the toes slid over him, smearing him flat. The woman moved her foot back and forth to fully smother him, as if he were just lint irritating her foot. Her toes sat just before the last member of the Bloodfangs. Azrael turned around and, prostrating himself, began to pray to the owner of his new home. His new temple. I understand now. I live here. I carry your grace, your message. This was a test for me. I understand now. I understand. I am yours.

Goddess.