Chapter 2: The Whimpering Forest
Mr. Fraillet ended up not showing up to the store for the rest of the day. The sight of that early morning only firing up the fear he felt for his daughter.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just bring her to me!" Were the last words his fat face could say before one of his workers had to carry him inside the house, almost unconscious.
He watched back to the barn, a cold feeling running down his spine. Something was off. He could feel it. And for how things looked, he knew he was running out of time to get that girl alive.
If he was not late already.
That kind of bloody mess could only be work of two creatures: Ghouls, that have a particular taste for kids and women; or Mulsoks, too brute to leave a scene clean of what was left of their meal.
The thing was, the creature he was dealing with didn't actually eat those animals. It just crushed them to the point of no identifying what they were.
He could pick the putrid scent heading east whilst he walked around the property. The scent of the girl, faintly lingering along with it.
Not wasting more time, he started walking down the path his nose pointed him; leading to the outskirts of town and even further away.
It was not until the sun was already at its highest point that he finally felt the smell became stronger. Letting him know he was getting close to that creature's lair.
The absence of blood, other than the animal's, letting him know there was a chance that that girl was still alive. The thought of someone else's wellness, for the first time in his life, causing him to feel relief.
He had been commissioned to save kids before. In some case, most of them, actually, he succeeded. In others, the poor child didn't have that luck. But whether it was a good or bad outcome, he never really cared for any of them.
This time, though, when noticed the girl's portrait hanging on the wall inside the house, he couldn't help but feel tensed up.
He wondered if it was because of this unknown creature that poked his interest, but dismissed the idea the moment he realized he had been thinking about trivial things longer than usual.
His steps finally averted from the road, signalling him he had to cut right across one of the biggest forests in the nation. The Whimpering Forest was one o those places you should only enter having a scout around. Or being one yourself.
Without a second thought, he walked his away between trees and brushes for about an hour. The whimper-like squeaking of the wood and branches doing tribute to that place's name.
Another hour passed.
His green eyes squinted, not sure why he wasn't at the lair just yet. Did he take a wrong turn?
Impossible.
His senses never failed him. He was near, yet every step he took didn't seem to take him anywhere, as he could barely see a mile away because of how thick and dark the forest was.
A flock of birds suddenly flew away, his head slightly turning towards where they were just a second ago. Something felt off again.
And as the thought crossed his mind, the faint scent of the little girl caught his attention. He didn't notice before, but it was stronger now. This set motion to his legs, that with extreme force and confidence, moved faster to cut as much distance as he could.
With a swift move, he stretched his arm and opened his hand, summoning a runic symbol in his palm. From it, a long, sturdy black sword emerged; him catching it the moment it was completely out.
Trees moved past him in a blur, his speed only increasing the moment he could hear faint echoed sobs ahead.
Echo.
The girl was either on a cave or a pit.
Light stroke his eyes as he entered a big clearing, his boots sinking in a thick, odorous mud covering the place. Where the hell is this? He wondered. He had walked this forest before, yet have never seen this place before.
He didn't slow down, though, following the weak cries to a deep, inclined cave. Its huge mouth-like opening rotting from what was inside.
His black leather cloak waved as he jumped in, darkness covering his sight once mores as he slid into the unknown bottom in front of him; his sword in hand ready to attack.
A rather hard, rustic floor meet him. Filled with hard bumps and pointy sticks that could easily stab someone on the landing. He stood in place, waiting for whatever was inside to react to the loud thud of his landing.
But nothing came at him.
His feet moved. It was sticky, not dense like the mud in the outside. The smell, just the same, was not as clear as it was on the outside, either. If you could call THAT stench air.
He kept moving forwards, a soft rustling peeping his ears in that direction.
The fast, ragged breathing at his feet made him come to a stop, and crunching down, he took one light stone from his pocket, blowing it softly.
Its light quickly took over the walls and ground of that wicked place.
Revealing a huge pair of round brown eyes looking straight at him.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone