Blood and War Paint
Chester's eyes darted frantically as he assessed the Ant-wolves surrounding him. To be completely honest, he was terrified. Facing an Ant-wolf from the safety of a tree was entirely different from facing them on the ground. Acknowledging his fear, Chester forced his mind to work. What should I do? With that thought, he drew a fresh claw knife. He always carried several spares.
The Ant-wolves grew wary at the sight of the new claw knife. They clearly remembered how he had used that very weapon to fatally wound one of their pack mates just moments ago. Moreover, of all the weapons Chester could have used, this one closely resembled a claw—a shape intimately familiar to the beasts, which only heightened their caution. An obvious threat is always the most effective. To an ignorant bystander, even the world's most notorious killer brandishing a legendary demonic sword wouldn't register as a threat. Chester thrust the claw knife forward, and the Ant-wolves warily circled him, keeping their distance.
One beast lay unconscious, knocked out by Chester's flying kick mid-charge. Another had a claw knife buried deep in its shoulder. Along with the two he had killed earlier, four were down. Five remained. Had Chester still been up in the tree, the pack would have retreated. But now, he was on the ground, sharing their domain. The Ant-wolves realized it: this was their golden opportunity. Their prey was vulnerable. It was time to hunt.
What's the play? If he attacked even one of them, the others would immediately pounce from his blind spots. What if he embedded his claw knife in another, like before? That had only worked because he wasn't surrounded. Now, the situation was different. The moment he fell or rolled to the ground, they would tear him to pieces.
While Chester calculated his next move, Monia was grunting and straining up in the tree, trying to wrench the machete free. Gritting her teeth, she pulled with all her might until the blade finally popped out. Clinging tightly to the trunk to keep her balance, she drew her arm back, leaning her entire body weight into the throw. And then—
"Take this!" she yelled, hucking the machete toward Chester. Fortunately, when Chester had fallen, he had only rolled a short distance from the base of the tree. The machete spun through the air and, by some stroke of luck, thudded into the dirt right next to him.
"Huh?" Chester's attention flickered to the weapon for a split second. Keeping his eyes locked on the circling predators, he reached down with his free hand and yanked the machete from the ground.
"Thanks!"
"Don't mention it!" Monia quickly pulled her bow and arrows from her basket, aiming down at the pack. Since Chester had cleared away a massive cluster of branches earlier to make his wooden spears, there was plenty of clearance for her to draw and shoot.
"I'm going to shoot!"
"Can you actually hit anything?"
"It doesn't matter if I miss!"
"Haha, fair point!" Indeed, in self-defense, a direct hit wasn't strictly necessary. Even a near miss would make a predator wary, fearful, and prone to backing off or fleeing. Of course, there were always beasts brave—or foolish—enough to ignore the threat of flying projectiles, but still.
To think she'd actually fight alongside me instead of just freezing up. Chester grinned and sheathed his claw knife. Then, he raised his hand—the one slick with the blood of the Ant-wolf he had stabbed earlier. Using his blood-soaked fingers, he painted his face, drawing war paint far darker and more vivid than any mud could ever produce. His five fingers moved in fluid, practiced strokes across his skin.
The metallic, copper scent of blood filled his nose, sharpening his senses. As the blood dried against his warm skin, the physical sensation of the war paint banished his anxiety and fear, replacing them with a surge of courage, a promise of victory, and a touch of luck. Once the paint was set, he used his bloody palm to slick his messy hair straight back. Grinning like a madman, Chester leveled his machete at the pack.
Just then, an Ant-wolf lunged at his blind spot. Monia loosed an arrow in a flash. The shaft thudded into the dirt right in front of the beast, startling it into a hasty retreat. The pack's tight formation fractured.
Chester quickly backed up toward the tree trunk. Sensing his retreat, the remaining Ant-wolves swarmed him. As the lead beast closed the distance, Chester swung the machete. *Thwack!* It was more of a brutal, crushing strike than a clean slice, but it did the job. The blade sheared deep into the open maw of the lunging beast, tearing its lower jaw half-off. Blood sprayed. The mangled creature whimpered and recoiled, its shattered jaw dangling uselessly.
Another beast leapt forward. Monia was still scrambling to notch her next arrow. Chester feigned another retreat, then planted his foot, using the momentum to spin on his heel and slash the machete in a wide arc. The startled beast scrambled backward. Though the maneuver left Chester momentarily exposed, Monia's next arrow hissed down, planting itself perfectly between him and the predator to cover his opening.
Seizing the moment, Chester bent low and scooped up a heavy stone. Straightening up in one fluid motion, he whipped his left arm forward. The stone flew with a wicked spin, arching upward before dropping sharply to crack the Ant-wolf right on the skull.
Yip?! Startled by the bizarre projectile, the beast let out a high-pitched, fox-like whimper and backed away. Chester immediately dropped flat to the ground. Just in time, too—the Ant-wolf Monia had deterred earlier leaped right over him, its claws raking empty air.
I knew you'd try to pounce. Chester reached up, grabbed the passing beast by its tail, and slammed it violently into the dirt. Without missing a beat, he brought the heavy pommel of his machete down on its head. *Thud! Thud! Thud!*
Hearing rustling behind him, he spun around, staying low as he swept the machete in a defensive arc. The sheer threat of the swinging blade made the remaining beasts hesitate. Chester used the momentum of his roll to spring back to his feet and scanned his surroundings.
Oh. Monia's arrow had actually found its mark. It had struck a non-vital area, so the beast was still standing, but a hit was a hit. Only three Ant-wolves remained. One was dazed from the rock to its head, another had an arrow protruding from its back, and the third was unscathed—though being the only healthy one left meant very little now.
Chester watched as the predators, who had been so eager to tear him apart just moments ago, began to take hesitant steps backward. Their pack of nine had dwindled to three. In hindsight, they should have run the moment the first two fell to his wooden spears. Perhaps they had fancied their chances of killing him and then taking Monia. But they had failed, and this was the price.
*Thud!* Seeing them waver, Chester stomped his foot hard and roared. "GRAAAAAHH!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs, just as he would to scare off a bear or a flock of predatory birds. "ROOOAAAR! GRAAAAAHH! AAAAAHHH!" *Thud! Thud! Thud!* He stomped, swung his machete, and spread his arms wide to make himself look as massive and intimidating as possible. "AAAAAHHH!"
Seeing his display, Monia joined in from her perch. She spread her arms wide, flapping them like a bird's wings, and shrieked with all her might. "YAAAAAH! KYAAAAAH!" It was incredibly clumsy, but she was giving it her all. "GRAAAAAAAHHH!" "WAAAAAAAH!" Faced with two roaring, seemingly giant monsters, the remaining Ant-wolves finally broke. They turned tail and fled into the brush.
"..." Once the survivors vanished, Chester methodically went around to dispatch the incapacitated beasts. The one with the severed jaw had managed to limp away with the fleeing trio, but the others weren't so lucky. One by one, he carefully drove his machete home, severing the spine at the base of the skull. When he was finished, six dead Ant-wolves lay scattered across the clearing. Only after ensuring every single one was dead did Chester finally collapse onto the dirt, letting the tension drain from his body.
"Haa... haa...!" His limbs felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton. The terror and anxiety he had suppressed with the war paint came rushing back in a tidal wave. His heart hammered against his ribs, and the world spun around him. It had been a sudden, terrifying brush with death. But he had survived. No, he had done more than survive—he had won. Granted, it wouldn't have been nearly this dangerous if he hadn't fallen out of the tree in the first place, but what did that matter now? He had triumphed.
"YEAAAAAAAH!" Chester thrust his machete high into the air, letting out a roar of pure victory.
"...Um, if you're quite finished, could you stop doing that and help me down?" Monia's tentative voice drifted down from behind him.
"...You can't get down on your own?"
"It's... it's way too high."
"Good grief." Can't even let me savor the moment for a second. Chester dragged his heavy body to his feet and walked over to her tree.
"Lower the basket first. Tie it to the rope and let it down slowly."
Monia did as instructed, tying the basket and carefully lowering it to the ground. "What about me?"
"...I'll catch you."
"Here I go!" Without a moment's hesitation, Monia jumped. Chester caught her securely in his arms, bending his knees and rolling backward onto the ground to absorb the impact. The momentum sent them sliding across the dirt together.
"Ouch. Are you alright? You aren't hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine. My back's just stinging a bit."
Monia gasped. Sitting up on his stomach, she frantically began inspecting his body. From all the tumbling and rolling, Chester's skin was scraped and torn in multiple places, oozing blood.
"Oh my goodness... What do we do? You're covered in blood!"
"Most of it is the wolves' blood. I barely have any actual wounds. This is nothing."
"Still..." Monia didn't even think to get off his stomach as she gently touched a gash on his shoulder. "It must hurt so much." Seeing her on the verge of tears, Chester smiled and patted her head.
"Let's go home."
Let's go home. It was a phrase she heard every single day, but right now, those ordinary words sounded incredibly sweet. Monia looked down at his shoulder once more, then nodded quietly.
"Yes. Let's go home." They had survived.