Syth and Axe (Part 9) : Those Who Fight with Giants...

 Read part 1 here: https://parallaxrealms.blogspot.com/2024/04/bunyan-went-down-to-jersey-part-1.html

Syth and Axe vol 9

1925 - Somewhere in the wilderness of Canada

“Another colony… massacred…” Alma groaned, settling herself down on a nearby snow-covered log.

A seam in the ground marked the spot where she’d laid another group of her people to rest. Each one had been slaughtered to a man and left to rot. It was a good thing they’d found these scenes before any humans had. Fresh snowfall had covered much of the chaos, but mounts here and there showed the evidence of where the destruction had been.

And so much blood… the snow had almost not been able to cover it all…

Alma felt the strain running through her body.

Her hand absently rose to the spot on her neck where the keystone should have been. The creatures had ambushed them and had stolen it in the chaos. She still had the patches of regrowing hair across her back as evidence of the injuries.

She flexed her hands, watching the muscles moved just beneath the skin - freshly regrown skin along her forearm. The dogmen were vicious, but inexperienced.

“Alma, are you all right?”

She nodded. “How are you feeling?”

He looked confused.

“You ate the box of that human’s poison, remember.”

They’d been escorting several children through the wilderness after the attack and had rescued a human from an ambush. They’d given him shelter for almost a week before Scar had gotten curious one night. He’d rummaged around in the man’s bags and had found what he though was food.

It turned out it was something entirely not-food. Apparently, human digestion and theirs worked considerably differently. To make a long story short, in the coughing and retching fit produced by whatever it was that Scar had eaten, the human had fled in fear.

They could only hope he was too afraid to tell anyone about it.

“Very funny,” Scar replied with a slight smirk. “I’ll have you know I’ve never been in that much discomfort in my life.”

She laughed, despite herself. “I do hope the children are all right.”

Scar nodded, and the mood tensed. Neither wanted to say it, but this encampment had also had children, and they hadn’t been spared. In fact, it seemed as if they’d been saved for last. That, or the adults had been to cowardly to fight back after watching that be done to their younglings.

Either option was heart-wrenching.

All Alma could hope was all of those she’d sent toward Six Rivers had made it - hopefully being moving targets would make them harder to massacre, especially with her and Scar moving toward the Nahanni settlement. Hopefully, anything pursuing would focus on them and not the stragglers.

It was a long hope, but hope nonetheless. And she’d hold on to hope as long as she could, even if it was counted as foolish - she had to, for the sake of her people.

Scar watched her with sadness.

“You were never meant to bear this, my Lady. I’m sorry.”

She smiled sadly. “You always resort to titles when you don’t know what to say.”

He thought for a moment, then gave a mirthless chuckle. “I guess…”

She heaved a deep breath, then released a weighty sigh. “No one is ever ‘meant’ to bear this type of thing. Not in a just world.” She replied, “but we Wardens operate on the understanding that none of these worlds are ‘just’; at least not until we make them a little more so.” She eyed the scarred flesh along her arms, then rose. “We have to keep going. If we can save any more colonies, we may yet stem the tide.”

“As you command.”

The forests were dark and deep this time of year. Silent and cold.

The two waded through, Alma occasionally using her powers to push some of the deeper drifts away.

“Frozen water is still water,” she’d explained.

They trudged across the waste, day after day, week after week - forging ever deeper into the continent.

Somewhere in the coastal mountains, struggling through a deep ravine that formed a sort-of pass through the range, they came upon a small colony, just barely scraping by.

A young red-fur stepped forward.

“Lady, we wish we could welcome you better, but I’m afraid we just have nothing to give.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It is I who wished she could greet you properly, but I’m afraid I just have nothing I can share.”

Red bowed deep to her. “You are the Warden. We are but your servants.”

She shook her head. “Do you have any provisions you can spare?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “My spouse and are children live here alone, and we have run low on food ourselves.”

“Why are you so far out?”

“Se’sxac sent us to hold this region - to provide resources to those coming and going from Nahanni.”

“He was established for so long and never sent relief?”

“He was attempting to hold a broad swath of land, Lady. Do not fault him.”

She nodded, though in her heart she faulted him for much…

“You must leave this place and come with us.”

“Lady?”

Scar gently touched her arm. “Alma, we do not have the ability to travel with more. We have no resources to spare.”

“We have to make it work,” she replied. “They’ll die out here.”

Red bowed low again, “Lady, we cannot leave this place. The young ones are still tender. They’ll not survive the trek.”

Alma shook her head. “You will not survive if you remain here. There are things that hunt us that will not spare you.” Her mind traced back to the butchered colonies. “We’ve found three settlements completely destroyed. I will not leave any of you behind.”

“My Lady,” Red replied, “I cannot leave. My mate will not survive the move and my little ones will perish.”

Alma felt the frustration welling up. 

“If you stay, you die.”

“Then I have to take that risk.”

She shook her head. “It’s not a risk. It’s a guarantee.”

Red shrugged. “My Lady, then I choose to die here with my family.”

The wilderness beckoned, and soon the duo were lost amidst the jagged cliffs and alpine snowbanks.

“The fool…” Alma muttered.

“He knew the risk,” Scar replied, buried to his waist in snow. “And he did it as much for us as for his family.”

Alma growled and heaved a swath of snow loose in front of them. The massive clot of snow rumbled down a nearby ledge, clearing a huge avalanche worth of debris down the peak. She slammed a fist into the rocky face of the pass.

“There are those you can save,” Scar reassured. “And there are those you can’t.”

She trudged through the snow, swiping banks left and right as they went.

“Stop.”

She continued on, the path clearing as she went.

A large hand clamped on her shoulder. She reared on him. “Don’t touch me!”

“Stop!” He barked.

“What?”

“Listen to me,” he spat, “this land eats up any that wander too far into it. We’ll never save all of our people - Se’sxac scattered them across thousands of square miles. It is impossible to get to them all. And if we don’t have the resources to keep them alive - those we will find won’t join us anyway.”

“Are you blaming me?”

“Quite the opposite. I’m just screwing your head on straight. I’ve lived in this wilderness for years. It will eat you alive. The fact that he chose to have a family out here, living in a cave, is a death sentence.”

“You’d rather he kill the children?”

“No,” replied Scar. “I’d rather he provided for them instead of hoping for the best.”

She paused, watching the trill of snow trickle down the cliffside - white death to all those below. “Where are we without hope,” she muttered.

“Hope can’t be alone. If all we have is hope, we’re only barely alive.”

She clenched her fist.

“Also… you’re causing avalanches. You probably want to stop that.”

Despite herself, she laughed and slugged him in the shoulder.

“Stick to water magic,” he replied with a grin, “you need to work on your physical attacks. They’re pretty weak.”

“I seem to remember using them to save your scarred hide more than once.”

“Funny, I don’t remember that at all.”

“Must’ve damaged your brain eating that human food.”

“Hmm…” Scar replied, “I don’t seem to remember that detail at all. Are you sure you’re remembering it right.”

A cautionary puff of snow fell from an overhead branch onto his head.

The weeks dragged on with little the mark one day from the next. Ice and snow were their constant companion as they forged through the mountains, ever heading toward the distant peaks where lay the Nahanni.

“Ready for this?” Scar asked.

Alma held up her hands. “You’re pretty heavy, but the ice won’t break.”

He smiled, and they began the trek. Rivers flowed readily through this area, and she didn’t dare freeze any of them for too long, just in case it caused issues upstream. But forge on they must, and so over river and through valley, up rocky crag and through the Interior Plateau they trekked.

“I’m still bothered about it…” she muttered as they pushed their way through the forest.

“What?”

“What the red one said. He’s rather die with his family than follow us and take a risk.”

“I can understand. And I’m surprised you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so hopeful, I thought you’d be the first to understand.”

“But he gave in to despair.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Scar replied, heaving a gap through the snow with his bulk. “He’s living by hope.”

“But he’s not.”

“If he were truly suicidal,” Scar began, pushing aside a large limb and letting Alma push through. He then took up the forward role and continued again. “He would have killed his family and wandered out into the wastes to die. He chose to stay, and that shows hope.”

The crunch of their footfalls and the shush of their bodies making a path through the snow was the only sound in that muffled landscape.

After a bit, Scar muttered back to her. “You still don’t see?”

“No, I do…” she replied.

“Then what?”

“They were killed by the Wardens.”

It was Scar’s turn to be confused. He muscled his way up and over an outcropping of rock, slid down a small hill and prepared to trek across another stream.

Alma waved a hand, and a large channel appeared in the snow, revealing a broad river. The ice covering it promptly thickened. Scar paused and turned. “What do you mean?”

“Se’sxac sent them out to die.”

“We don’t know that,” Scar responded.

“Do you have any choice when a Warden commands?”

“No.”

“Then why would he stay out here all this time?”

Scar nodded. “I see.”

She nodded in return. “And by the time I came to make things right, it was too late. There was no more genuine hope for him - just the false hope he clung to.”

The wilderness consumed them. Miles and miles of tractless forest absorbed them. Many, many days into their journey, they found something unexpected.

Scar paused.

“What is it?”

“Humans.”

There was a road in this area of the forest, and it had been recently cleared of snow. Scar knelt. “Hoof prints. They have horses. Best steer clear of it. If we spook the horses, they may come hunting.”

“I’ve never seen a human settlement.” Alma replied. “Show me.”

Scar pointed up the road. “Freshest prints come from that way. Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I understand the danger. We’ll be quick.”

The road was a slush of mud from the recent melts, but they managed to navigate it with little difficulty. When the clearcut began, Scar held out a hairy hand. “Hold here.”

He went out ahead, crouching low and sticking behind whatever low rolling hills separated them from the distant camp, then waved her to join him. Light wafts of smoke rose into the air from the distant campsite. A few rough-hewn buildings, tightly packed against one another sat on one side, a massive pile of logs on the other.

“What are they doing?”

Scar pointed at the pile of downed trees. “Lumberjacks.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“They’re using those to make houses and other things.”

“Those are the only materials available to them?”

Scar shrugged. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had a whole lot to do with humans. Our primary job was to avoid them and leave no trace.” He looked pack over their path. “Might have to do something about those, though.”

They’d left quite the path of footprints through the snowpack, even up the muddy road.

“I can clear those on the way back. How do they survive out here?”

“Humans are nothing if not absolute lords of their domain. The things these people survive that would kill any lesser animal…” Scar muttered. “And they have absolutely no special abilities. They are entirely what you see - muscle, bone, and stupid levels of determination. And they’re curious beyond what’s sane.”

Alma watched the bearded men roaming the camp, holding various tools, some drinking dark liquid out of some sort of handled cup. Others seemed intent on yelling at each other and throwing around small pieces of paper.

“I have no idea what drives them. They have short lifespans, but are foolish in the things they attempt. I just can’t even process it all.”

“They’re too young to realize the foolishness of their hope.”

A horse whinnied off in the distance. One human rushed to it.

“And they tame other beasts to do their bidding - and that’s not including the mechanized vehicles I’ve started to see around their bigger settlements.”

“That’s no big deal. We’ve done the same.”

“Yes, but these have no way to accentuate their powers. They are simply what you see.”

“I can’t imagine,” she whispered, “living my life like that - always on the edge of dying to everything around me. And they willingly enter the most dangerous places - it’s like they seek out death.”

Scar watched the silent camp for a while. The fire slowly dwindled, and the men began to wander the camp, using only the moonlight high overhead to trace their way between buildings. Apparently, they had some sort of furnace inside the large buildings, for smoke began to drift up from those buildings, accompanied by a glow from the windows.

Alma pointed to the far end of the camp. “What are those things?”

“Probably just some tools. They have all sorts of –” he trailed off.

There was something looming behind the bunkhouse - standing a few hundred feet behind them, shadowed up against the dark forest. It was difficult to see, but when it slightly moved, Alma noticed it was… different… than the surrounding trees. It was definitely some sort of large being. Its shoulders stood nearly the height of the roofline of the bunkhouse, even as far back as it was. Broad shoulders stood out against the backdrop of the snow-covered trees, rising up to a small bulge of a head. Clearly, this thing’s head sank down almost to the shoulder line, most likely hunched forward in some sort of permanent bow. Its one hand was slightly raised, apparently holding on to one of the medium-sized trees nearby.

Other than that, the beast barely moved. To any casual observer, it would just be part of the scenery - a large bank of trees, a rock they hadn’t remembered being there - something of that sort. But to Alma and Scar, it was something large and threatening.

“We should go.” Scar whispered.

Alma shook her head. “What if this is the thing that’s been killing our people.”

“Then let it take out the humans. We’re not here to protect them.”

She stared out across the quiet camp. The large creature loomed over it. “What’s it waiting for?”

“Did you hear me?” he repeated, “we should go.”

She shook her head.

Scar lightly grabbed her arm. “Our only hope is to flee - to get as far from here as we can and hope this camp takes so long to destroy it doesn’t bother following us.”

The form shifted in the darkness. Two orb-like eyes opened somewhere in the upper chest, showing where the head was currently positioned.

Alma’s body ran cold, and it had nothing to do with the miles of dense snowpack surrounding them.

“No,” was all she could respond.

“Alma, what do you mean, ‘No’?”

“We’re protectors, are we not?”

“Of our own,” Scar hissed back, his eyes locked on the large monstrosity.

White clouds obscured the moon.

“It’s going to start snowing soon,” Alma replied, pointing at the lowering sky. “The humans will be huddled in their houses for warmth. We may just be able to get out of this without their noticing.”

Scar grunted.

The creature took one slow, lumbering step forward. Its movements were silenced by the banks of snow. Fog rolled in, obscuring their view for a moment as flakes began to drift from above. Alma looked up - the sky was a sheet of white.

Trapped between white and white, with the black of the distant forest ringing them in. The fire had gone out in the camp, only the glow of the windows provided any contrast.

The beast took another step closer - whether it was shuffling or stalking, the couldn’t tell.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to go now.” growled Scar.

Alma nodded, and they dropped down off the small rise and fell knee-deep in the banks of the snow. The forged their way through toward the lumbering giant. As they neared it, they noted its hunched appearance - it was as if it were shuffling with its head slightly drooped. But the look in its eye Alma expected to see - a vacuous expression of stupidity - was missing. This creature was intelligent and ancient. Any strangeness to its posture was simply the result of being weighed down by what appeared to be untold millennia of life and rage.

Its body was human-like. Pale skin showed under thick body hair. But it wasn’t dense like theirs. This was just accentuated human hair. Was this a giant human? Did those exist? It was a giant human, apparently unphased in the least by the blistering cold.

It strode forward now, head sunk forward, body hunched.

“It’s still holding a tree…” Alma observed.

Scar shook his head. “That’s not a tree - not anymore.”

In the giant’s hand, what they thought was a medium-sized tree was actually a massive spear.

“What in Andren’s name…” Alma cursed.

“Wish he were here to help us with this one…” Scar muttered.

Step by step, the monster strode closer and closer to the settlement. It plowed through the snow like it wasn’t there, leaving a road of its own from the forest.

Scar rushed through the snow, running straight into the settlement.

“Where are you going?”

He stopped at the fire pit and grabbed a few hand-sized stones, tucked them under his arm, the rushed to one of the nearby buildings. It was a bunkhouse.

“No good.”

Then he saw the tool storage. He latched onto the support pillar of the porch of the bunkhouse, scrambled up onto the roof, and leapt over to the tool shed, rocks in tow.

Almas scrambled up after him.

“This is your plan?”

“You didn’t have one,” he spat. “If we’re going to fight to protect these humans, then we need some height. Can’t use the bunkhouse, it’ll draw the humans out. But if we can draw that thing over here, then maybe we can fight it at its own level.”

He adjusted to account for the slope of the roofline, then handed Alma two stones. He kept the other three for himself. “When I give the word, you aim for the face.”

She held the two hand-size stones in her palms.

The giant stopped just behind the bunkhouse. The night was silent. He growled low in his throat, muttered something into the darkness that made Alma’s hair prickle, then reared the spear back to thrust it through the timber wall of the dwelling.

A look of such hate!

Alma was aghast by the gaze.

“Now!” Came the hurried whisper at her side.

A large rock whipped out from the roof of the tool shed and struck the monster on his shoulder. He staggered - more from surprise that any actual damage. His glowing gaze turned in their direction, but they’d both already dropped down into the snow of the roof - not that he was expecting an attack to come from there, anyway. He gazed along the ground, then looked over toward the woodline. He puffed in disdain and raised the spear again.

Another stone glanced off his temple.

Teeth bared - pure white as the surrounding snow - the giant shifted his weight angrily, clenched the spear in one massive paw, and stalked toward their location.

Alma lay on the other side of the roofline, her body pressed tight down into the cold.

The snow as frozen solid. It would take her a moment to find any usable water or to thaw out what was already here. It was almost too cold for her to move any effective amount. Even the water troughs below were barely usable.

The giant lumbered over. He crouched, lifting up barrels and turning over other supply crates, looking for any sign of what had struck him.

He rose to return to his prey.

A third stone cracked off the back of his head, actually drawing blood this time.

The giant rounded and hurled the spear.

“Jump!” Scar cried.

The spear struck the upper portion of the roof, tearing out the roughshod trusses and collapsing in one entire wall with the blow.

Scar toppled off the edge and into the snow.

The building wobbled under the weight of a tree now hanging off the side of it and began to collapse. The facing wall buckled and toppled inward, taking a section off the roofline with it - the section of roofline where Alma had been hiding.

She unceremoniously flopped over the edge and dropped into a deathtrap of saws, blades, and other tools with a crash before another section of the roofline followed her descent. Soon, she was buried under snow and wood and metal. A blade pierced deep into her shoulder. She bit back a cry.

The giant loomed overhead. She saw a meaty hand nearly three times the size of her push aside the crates and barrels as if they were nothing. She could see the thick hair running up the arm - it appeared reddish in the dim light.

What was this creature?

The giant leaned over and gazed around the rubble.

Was it… sniffing? Was it trying to find her by scent?

Large flakes of snow gathered on its brow, making its red locks white. A thick beard hung from its jaws. Thick lips, rolled back into an almost-permanent sneer. Other than the strange contorted curse affecting its body, it was almost perfectly scaled with a human. She hadn’t expected that.

But the eyes. What seemed to be searching, prying eyes - they weren’t seeing anything at all.

They were utterly and completely blind. All that remained was a sort of eye-shine, like some nocturnal animal. Alma watched as the blind orbs passed over where she was trapped.

The beast sniffed again, then turned and stalked back toward the snow toward the camp.

She pulled herself out from under a saw, shoved aside a rack full of shovels, and staggered to her feet. An open wound ached on her shoulder, and she could feel the sting of something along her scalp. She pulled herself out of the rubble and stepped into the path the giant had carved through the snow - just by walking, it had made a track nearly twice as wide as she was.

Snow roiled around her. Fog rolled and boiled, clouding most of its form as the blizzard settled more squarely over them. The beast hadn’t quite vanished yet.

She held a single rock in her hand. She had to be ready.

She reared back with the stone, putting as much strength as she could into the throw.

Fog billowed, blocking him from her view. It was now or never!

Then the pitch.

The stone whipped through the darkness, vanishing into the fog.

Crack!

It scored a solid hit somewhere on the back of the giant.

She saw the slightest shape of his silhouette stagger in the dense fog.

A low growl rumbled through the area, but Alma was ready this time. Her muscles tensed, she waited for his response.

A spear appeared from the shadowy fog, aimed straight at her!

She lunged aside into the snow as the tree-sized weapon passed neatly through the air where she had just been, shattering the remains of the tool shed as it struck. A heavy thud marked its entrance into the earth as it sank deeply into the soft dirt underneath. She could only hope it would be stuck there long enough to give her an opening.

Cold wetness enveloped her as she raised her head from the snow.

She could feel him approaching - hear his angry breaths. She could feel the snow melting at her body’s touch, more flakes dropping around her to cover her even more. Dense fog and snow swirled, and the creature appeared from the dark fog cover.

He thundered to where she had been, and she could see his hulking form looming high overhead. The giant crouched over the rubble, a meaty hand reaching for the spear. She could almost hear the creak of flesh as it closed over the haft and tugged.

The spear didn’t budge.

She took a deep breath, trying to settle herself - calm herself the best she could. She needed to be absolutely perfect on this next step. There was no time to get this next strike wrong.

The giant placed a foot against the remains of the building in order to give itself some leverage, but the wall just collapsed a little further. It stumbled back. Angered, the creature huffed, stepped into the rubble, and shoved another section of the building out of the way. It reached down toward the spearhead, latching on with both hands.

Its shoulder caught a truss from the roof. The shed wobbled, then collapsed outward, dropping what remained of the building’s roof onto the giant. It muttered angrily in its language and shoved the roof away.

She had to strike now or he would dislodge the spear.

Scar felt the section of wall collapse onto him, shoving him deeper into the snowbank.

He groggily rose to his feet.

“Well, that didn’t work…” 

Something screamed in his shoulder. There had been a rock in that snow, and he had landed on it - with his head. How long had he been out?

He braced his shoulder with one hand and turned as the roof of the building launched up into the air, landing off in the fog and snow beyond his sight.

The giant was still nearby, at least.

He heard the shuffling and groaning of the gigantic thing, the struggle and the huff - it was trying to wrench something free of the wreckage - had it found Alma? Was it trying to retrieve its spear? What was going on? When had this fog rolled in?

A blast of icy snow struck his face.

He raised a hand against the gale. He had to do something.

He pressed through the drifts, pushing toward the remains of the tool shed. The only remaining piece of the building still standing was some sort of support pillar. The rest had shattered or had been knocked flat. Tools, saws, and other equipment lay strewn about as the giant tried to pull that support pillar free.

Why would he do that?

Then in a flash, a gout of blood rose up on the giant’s shoulder - brilliant red against the greys and whites of the scene. It blossomed like a flower, seemingly freezing in midbloom. The giant spun with a cry, muttering and cursing in some strange guttural language Scar didn’t understand. But the giant ws staring at something, or someone, behind him.

A form almost half the size of the giant stood on the other side of the shed’s remains, her body appearing small and frail compared to the wide monstrosity she faced. She was almost completely obscured by the rolling banks of fog and snow, but Scar knew her immediately - Alma.

Her hands slightly upraised, the Warden stood before the giant.

Another flash, and another bloom of blood tore out the back of the beast. It growled in confusion, clutching its broken flesh.

Scar couldn’t wait to see what else she had planned. She wouldn’t have any time to recharge before that creature struck a killing blow. Once it saw her - she was dead.

He raced forward into the rubble, snatching up a large saw as he passed.

Alma stood before the giant. She’d managed to core two hits. The other had missed - just barely missing the beast’s face. It would have been a killing blow - but she’d missed.

She stood defiant before the monster. He leaned forward, large hands stretching toward where he sensed her to be. She could see the massive fingers closing around her vision - then felt the thick, powerful palm envelope her cheeks. Two massive hands lifted her bodily into the air by her face. She wanted to stare back defiantly - she wanted to glare and show her utter disdain for this abomination, but he was blind. It didn’t matter anymore.

Blood ran down the giant’s shoulders from the blows she had landed. But it would shake off the injuries and devastate the camp, then go on to kill more of her people.

Her extremely adventurous, violent stint as Warden of these lands would soon come to a very bloody end.

She could hear his skin grating against her as he began to squeeze.

As her vision pulsed red, she managed a grimace.

All this work, all the fighting…

She dropped into the snow, her face awash with pain.

She stared up at the giant, who seemed confused. He turned and stared behind him at the tool shed. Had he heard something? Seen something?

She mustered up whatever water she could in preparation for any sort of final strike. He was going to return to her any moment, and curse her if she wasn’t going to make that final kill on his part the most painful thing he’d ever done.

The giant then looked down with his blinded eyes.

Then she noticed it, too.

Blood welled from a thick gash around his broad calf - someone had lashed him across the leg with - a massive saw. Had a tool flown loose in the fray? Had something just fallen and gotten in a lucky shot.

No.

Scar stood there, his hands drenched in blood. The giant turned just as he leapt out of sight among the piles of rubble and scraps of metal.

Scar stared up at the giant, his hands screaming. He’d been clenched onto the blade so tightly when he’d driven it into the giant’s leg that when the beast had moved, the blade had cut back into his own hands. A long gash had opened across the meat of each of his palms. He clenched them, half in defiance and half to stanch the free flow of blood, which was flowing down his palms, dripping into the snow to promptly vanish under the coating of fresh flakes.

The giant seemed more confused than anything. He reached a huge hand down, then gazed around, the pale eyes losing a bit of shimmer.

Was he blind?

The giant grasped the blade and, with a mighty heave, wrenched it free of his calf. He held up the metal, ran his finger along its serrated edge, then bent it over and hurled the thing off into woods with a growl and string of muttered curses in whatever devilish language it spoke.

Blood gushed freely from the wound as the giant turned back to the shed. With a limp in its stride, the giant latched a bloody hand onto the support pillar. It was then Scar realized - that wasn’t a support pillar that had started to fall over - that was the spear! It had somehow become so lodged int he ground that it stuck up like a beam of wood from the shed itself!  Had that happened when the giant had hurled the spear at him?

No. That couldn’t be. What had Alma done to draw another blow?

The giant heaved on the spear, but it still wouldn’t budge.

Then a fountain of blood rose up off the back of the creature’s leg.

Alma couldn’t possibly have much more in her, not with the cold the way it was. Scar stared at his hands. There was little he could do - not with them in this state. But he had to try something. He cast around, looking for something - anything - in the snow that could possibly even out the battle.

All he found was a large circular saw blade. He had no idea what they would have used it for.

Alma stood up to her waist in snow. It was all she could do to keep the blood from flowing out of her own wounds, much less drawing out the liquid from the blood pulsing off the back of the giant.

But she had to fight.

She had to do something. She had to hope against hope…

So she drew as much as she could from the frozen cold around her. If she could get one good shot, she might stand a chance to split through the giant’s defenses and get in a killing blow. It was all she could do.

All she could do it hope she mustered just enough strength.

The small swirls of blood rose up off the back of the giant’s leg. It was angrily heaving at the spear. It would only be a matter of time before the monster gave up and just returned to the bunkhouse, which was now completely invisible through the fog.

Where had Scar gone?

He’d been there earlier, and had vanished behind some rubble. It wasn’t like him to run away - what was he planning?

She couldn’t worry about that. She had to get enough to make one good strike.

One good strike was all it would take.

The giant staggered.

Had it gotten the spear free? The fog was getting so thick, the blizzard so heavy, she was losing track of what was going on.

Then the giant stumbled back.

Had he given up? Was he returning to the bunkhouse to destroy it with his bare hands?

No… this was something else.

The giant turned toward her and began to charge, roaring angrily.

She dropped into a crouch, raising whatever water she could. It was a pathetic little shield, but maybe, just maybe!

Sightless eyes dropped toward her.

She cried out and raised the barrier. It held for an absolute split second before exploding, sending her flying back into the snow. The giant hit the ground with a rumble. He lay still.

Alma stepped forward - cautiously, carefully.

At this point, she had nothing to defend herself with. Her own blood had dried, the water around her was frozen solid. There was nothing she could do.

But the giant wasn’t moving.

His sightless eyes no longer shined.

Then she saw it. Protruding from the beast’s face was a large, circular blade. Something strong had heaved the chunk of metal straight into the giant’s forehead. The giant twitched slightly, then lay still.

He was finally dead.

A slight puff of misty breath left his mouth.

Scar staggered forward, hands held tightly against his body. The cold bit deep into him - blood loss or the blizzard, he could no longer tell. A silhouette stood at the giants head.

“Alma?”

It looked up.

He stumbled toward it.

“Alma? Are you all right?”

The fog cleared just enough for him to see her - covered in cuts, but otherwise unharmed. She smiled in relief at the sight of him and rushed forward, wrapping him in a warm hug that pained him - though he welcomed that pain right now.

“Your hands!”

He chuckled and held them out. The flesh peeled back, showing small pockets of exposed fat and muscle beneath. “Yeah, he kinda surprised me at that last movement. I was holding too tightly to the blade.”

She began to hold her hands over his. “I can’t do much, but maybe I can get those muscles reattached.”

He nodded his thanks and stared over her shoulder at the massive corpse.

“We’re not done. We’ve got to get rid of this thing before the camp wakes up.”

Alma nodded. “I know. Though they’re really going to wonder what on earth happened to their shed.”

Scar turned and gazed through the fog. He nodded. “It’ll be a shock to be sure.”

Several days later, the two of them were deep in the woods, a thick layer of snow blanketing everything around them, easily covering their tracks. The men of the camp would wake to find a shattered shed, pieces scattered everywhere, and a strange new hill nearby. They woundn’t think too much of it. After all, who has time to wonder whether a hill appeared when your entire tool storage shed mysteriously exploded in the night without anyone hearing it?

Scar gazed down at the pink membranes running across his palms.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“You did all you could,” he replied.

“I feel so drained without the keystone. I feel… trapped.”

“It’s all right. Let’s just avoid fighting any giants for a while.”