𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗬 ⇆ 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮

29

As the morning dew dropped from the trees and the light struggled to reach, two men stood near a foggy swamp in the woods. Amid their nighttime patrol, the two individuals used the latrine, finding humor in relieving themselves over the murky waters. The oppressive heat and humidity caused their clothes to adhere to their skin.

"Damn this swamp," said a poacher as he fanned the collar of his shirt, while the other poacher swatted the mosquitoes buzzing near his ears.

Taking back his sword from the tree, the man declared, "Once this is all over, Dabi better burn this place to the ground."

"If he doesn't take action, I am prepared to do so." Tucked away, the two men settled, leaning against a tree and sharing water between them. The sound of metal reverberated in their ears, and the men instinctively turned their heads towards the source of the sudden snap of a twig. Among the overgrown roots of a tree, a figure fights to stay concealed by the dangling moss. The figure crawls back against the thick tree trunk and gathers mud inside a fist.

"The hell was that?!" One of them questioned, strapping his sword to his belt.

"Let's check," the other suggested, unsheathing his sword. His companion does the same. With caution, they approached the ancient tree, ensuring they never lost sight of each other.

The person in the rear silently signals the other to look behind the roots. With a grunt, the poacher swings at the roots, carving his blade into the root until it snaps in his fist. They cleared away the dead roots by tearing them apart and throwing them, allowing them to fit into the hole they had created.

They crawled on their hands and knees, accidentally colliding with each other until they finally encountered a mysterious figure quivering next to the tree. Believing it to be an animal, one extends their hand, thanking the gods for a simple hunt. Suddenly, raging dust clouds envelop the three of them, and balls of mud smear their faces, momentarily blinding them, giving you the opportunity to make a quick escape.

"A prisoner is loose!" In a sudden reaction, a poacher cried out and shuffled backward.

With a burst of speed, you sprinted in the opposite direction, your feet bare and your hair billowing in the wind as your clothes snagged on the thorns you brushed past. You dragged your feet, sprinting till you felt your heart pumping in your chest. As you vaulted over fallen trees, you pressed on bravely into the forest, shrouded in the ethereal morning mist of Mother Nature. With heavy breaths, your pursuers advance, following your trail amidst the tangled thicket, rough ground, and chilly, murky puddles and streams that carry the unmistakable odor of algae and wetness on the breeze.