The Long Stairs

Day Five

"Horseshit," Pike muttered under his breath, the words escaping like a feeble breath against the suffocating atmosphere.

The hellish place was a green nightmare, a suffocating sauna with a green canopy that blocked out every ray of sunlight. The heat and humidity suffused the air, transforming the surroundings into a claustrophobic sauna. Not even the tiniest breath of wind offered solace. Pike's body was drenched in sweat, a testament to the relentless torment of the environment. Biting flies and insects buzzed around, their cacophony drowned out by the thunderous pounding of his own heart.

And what the hell was up with this heat? Pike hadn't strayed far from the keep, where he froze his ass off every damn night. Just two weeks ago, he woke up to a snow-covered ground. Today? It was a freakin' aberration, defying all logic.

His trembling, sweat-slicked fingers fumbled into his pocket, retrieving a tin of snuff. Lid slipped, contents spilled. Pike sighed, his precious refuge gone. He had a pinch left, snorting it up his nose, a futile attempt to steady his shaken nerves. Pathetic, his thoughts withering away.

Earlier that day, Pike's patrol encountered a troop of lizard-man-thing bastards, speedy and armed to the teeth. They popped out from the trees, swinging their swords and spears like maniacs. Pike knew better than to tangle with the seven-foot-tall reptilians. So, he did what any sane person would do — he ran, embracing his cowardice without giving it a second thought.

"So what if I'm yellow?" he muttered, a desperate defense of his choices.

The air cried with harsh reptilian calls, tearing through the forest. Clashes of steel soon followed, and then came the screams. Pike's heart thumped in his chest as the chorus of keening continued. He sought refuge, stumbling through the undergrowth, eyes straining to see through the gloom. Finally, he found cover under a thorny mess of brambles, crawling beneath their tangled embrace. His hands frantically swatted away lurking insects.

Silence fell, shattered again by a mournful wail, echoing through the trees. Another scream, closer this time. The forest became a contorted symphony of chaos. Pike strained to see, but he dared not move. Deep, grotesque croaks resounded behind him, then to his left, and ricocheting to his right. The lizard-men had him surrounded.

Within arm's reach, he spotted muddy leather boots, accompanied by labored breathing. He glimpsed ridges and black scales. The man was yanked down, torn apart by a writhing mass of darkness, spraying Pike's face with blood and gore. A guttural chord of snarls and roars filled the air.

Desperate to block out the horrors, Pike cupped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut, and waited. Fifteen agonizing minutes passed before the sounds of the patrol reforming reached his ears. Pike remained motionless for another half hour, making sure he was in the clear. Once he was sure, he made his move, slipping deeper into the fens, leaving behind the gruesome tableau of death.

But where the hell did those lizards go? The question flickered in Pike's mind, sending shivers down his spine.

With urgency, he scurried up a steep hill, keeping a low profile against the treacherous terrain. In the distance, he spotted a path cutting through the woods, tracks of forest critters guiding the way. No sign of reptilian footprints brought a brief moment of relief. Pike jumped onto the path, following the movements of those critters, climbing toward the summit. But the trail soon turned into a shit-colored mud pit. Each step became a struggle, the muck clinging to his boots. He glanced up the hill, realizing he was far from reaching the top. He paused, turned, casting a glance back at the journey he had already covered.

"Fuck me," he whispered, the words swallowed by the oppressive surroundings. The path ahead loomed, a daunting climb. But Pike knew his chances were better at the top than at the bottom.