The agitated dog; the watcher's flight, and Smohalla's subsequent wince; the ensuing silence.

Stogie opens his mind to the astral, seeking as much information as he can, and the wider range of perception it affords. His teammates off to the left, Jake off to the right and the wolves behind. All these stand out from the suffusing glow of the forest. Not far from them, though, the glows from a thousand living things meld into a haze almost impenetrable. Stogie draws back the perceptions enhancement from Jake. Sorry, boy, I think I need this right now. You sniff and listen.

Ellesar's instincts are screaming at him. Something's coming to kill you! Just like old times. This feeling was all too familiar. In fact it's probably due to that familiarity that he is able to remain calm in such a situation.

The others are obviously startled, and with good reason. All except for the shifter of course. Perhaps this had been nothing more than a plot to lure the group out into unfamiliar territory.

It's a trap! That pesky voice again. Ignoring it, he stands and turns to face the trees where the unknown target is assumed to be. His breathing begins to slow, relying on his old training to stay collected. His thoughts begin to focus. Let us see where this leads

Momentarily stunned by the disruption of his will, Smohalla steadies himself on the log.

Shaking his head to clear it, he looks to the wolf shifter.

You do not seem concerned about what is approaching. Why is that?

The shifter has not been completely obtuse. Stogie's words roused him and he watched the foray of watcher with detached interest. He meets Smohalla's question with what might be interpreted as a raised eyebrow. The wolf sighs before shifting back into human shape, sitting on his boulder with his arms around his knees in front of him.

"I do not have anything to fear," he says. "And nor do you," he adds to Smohalla. "Nor you," he says to Jake, figuring that he'll understand.

His gaze turns to Stogie and Ellesar. He doesn't say anything but the lack of words clearly indicates, Now you on the other hand...

He considers the scene for a moment, deciding whether to trouble himself. He looks to Stogie and Jake, his astral vision studying the connection between them. It interests him, and whatever talent Stogie has with animals seems to rubbing off slightly on the shifter, however subtly.

He shrugs. "I do not know the name of it in your language. Nor any language, for that matter. It will stay under the tree cover, if it can. It prefers the night, but perhaps it is hungry enough to hunt during the day."

The shifter opens his hands, presenting you with the situation.

A being that only attacks those with no animal-nature...

Smohalla muses on this for a moment.

His gaze also turns to Stogie and Ellesar.

If we can do so without seeming like prey running from the predator,

we should leave it's hunting grounds.

"I agree. Let's remain vigilant, and once we have rested we should move on. I'm glad it is not interested in Jake. I am concerned about returning later in the day, though.

"Given what our guide says, I suspect this thing wants to consume not just our flesh, Ellesar, but our emotional strength as well. Something it can get from metahumans only.

"Jake, you got any idea where this thing is?" Stogie queries through their mental link as well.

Smohalla smiles slightly at this.

I feel very rested already.

The current danger has worked miracles on my tired body.

"I see your point. Maybe a minute or so to see if the thing is actually hungry enough to attack now would be useful. When we start moving, we may be going into thicker vegetation, and be easier prey.

Stogie turns to the shapeshifter. "Are we close to the Sisters? And will the way be through dense vegetation?"

"If the Sisters were close, we would not have stopped here," the shifter replies. You don't detect any sarcasm in his tone; maybe he hasn't learned it yet.

"This animal usually hunts at night. If it hunting during the day, it must be hungry. I do not think it will leave the trees until the sun has passed but I do not know. As for our own path, we must return to the trees or wade up the river a great distance. But it will surely track us along the shore and wait for nightfall. We are halfway to our destination, unless, of course, your journey ends here."

You're almost positive that it's sarcasm this time, but nope, just the facts again. The shifter looks calm and straight-faced, like all of this is just a normal everyday occurrence in the forest.

You look up and down the river. Besides your small clearing and one or two others like it, the forest pushes up against the shores of the river. You have a small rocky beach to defend but it's only about 25 meters before the vegetation begins and 50 meters before there are overlapping walls of of trees that look much more foreboding than they did a moment ago.

Ellesar's face remains unchanged as he turns his head to stare at the shifter. "Do not think we will lose our lives so easily, wolf." The last word he says with an obvious bite to it, clearly not enjoying the situation.

"I would rather not be forced into another battle," Ellesar continues, "if one of you have a better idea that is. Otherwise this may get messy."

Our options seem to be to continue, or to stand and fight.

I suggest we continue to our meeting with the Sisters.

I am sure our guide will do his best to warn us of any impending danger.

Likewise, I will do what I can to give us advance warning.

Smohalla finishes what for him was a very long speech, and looks at the others.

"Well, it looks like I get to choose between pressing on to meet some angry women who might want to blow me up, and staying around to be dinner for a thing that wants to consume my soul. Story of my life." He packs up quickly and rises, looking down the river clearing. "I'm ready. Let's see if we can move away from this infected hunter's territory."

He whistles for Jake, who wastes no time coming to his side. Jake looks over his shoulder at the woods. "Yup. You keep a good watch, boy." Unslinging his Enfield shotgun, Stogie takes a moment to replace the clip with the somewhat clumsier drum. To no one in particular, he muses, "Too much pepper makes any meal unpalatable."

Infected hunter? Yes, that feels correct.

Smohalla glances sharply at the wolf shifter.

He says:

I find it strange that you would allow an infected creature to roam free.

These...things...are as much an abomination as twisted magic is.

The shifter shrugs passively at Smohalla's barb. "It does not eat what I eat, and it does not try to eat me. As such, I find that I can coexist with it very readily."

He stands up and steps off his rock, his feet hitting the pebbles lining the river shore. "Am I an abomination to the squirrel and to the deer? Are you an abomination to the hare and the mouse? Or has our magic given us our nature? I do not see his situation as any different. He has his prey and we have ours."

The shifter walks up from the shore, heading toward the woods. "And besides," he adds, "he's bigger than me."

With that he shifts back into his wolf form, his massive paws hitting the ground with a thud. He stops at the treeline and turns his head back to the group, wondering if you will follow.

Smohalla smiles slightly at the wolf's reply.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he gathers his will and sends out a summons.

They will need help, if they are being hunted

Stogie heads up the incline of the clearing to follow the wolves. Jake, stay by my side and keep alert. Like I need to tell you that, huh buddy? His shotgun is at the ready. Still astrally aware, he sees the spirits arrive. "Good idea, Smohalla."

"Infected hunter?" Ellesar asks with an inquisitive look. His hands unsling and load his Remmington almost mechanically. "I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing."

"HMHVV affects metahumans differently. It does nasty things to trolls and orks. The gist of it is that you and I, Ellesar, are the preferred food of what I think is out there. Not just our flesh but the essence of our spirit, our soul if you like. Our guide here doesn't see anything wrong with it, and I can understand a forest hunter's perspective, but if I'm the food, the food intends to fight back."

I will do my best to make sure you are not food.

Smohalla pauses for a moment.

It would be devastating to Jake. I cannot allow that.

"Yeah, thanks, chum. I love you, too."

Smohalla turns to follow the wolf.

He hopes his turned back hides his smile.

As he walks, he keeps his senses alert.

"Thank you for your support Smohalla. I have no plans to give up my essence, spirit, soul, or anything else for that matter. If this fiend is hungry it had best look elsewhere." Ellesar goes silent for a moment. "I assume that this HMHVV decreases the intelligence of its host."

"Usually, but it can be a deadly mistake to count on it. And it could be able to wield magic, too."

Hearing this remark, Smohalla comes to a slow stop.

He lets the others file past him, waiting for the tail of the group.

His magical senses pick out each companion on the journey, including the wolf shifter.

He allows his innate magical defenses to flow to each pinpoint of light in his enhanced vision.

Having done what he can, he continues on with the rest.

Smohalla closes his eyes to concentrate his energy and attention on the astral. He pulls forth three small forms, his hand reaching up to tug them out of the astral energies swirling around him like a vortex. The first one is more fragile than he intended, but still serviceable. The second and third look just as he wanted. He gives them each a quick nod of his chin and, in turn, they zip in the direction he gives them.

The fourth spirit will be more demanding, or so he thinks. He inhales deeply and locks his breath, stretching his arms toward the wall of trees and vegetation before him. He rolls his hands, one over the other, beckoning the massive astral powers that reside in the vitality of the forest. His features harden, his hair begins to feather, his chin and mouth phase into the semblance of a beak while his eyebrow stretch to complete the shamanic mask. All at once he throws his hands behind him with a cry and the forest explodes forth with a shimmering green monster. In shape and size it is clearly inspired by the shifter, but in appearance it looks like the forest come to life. Patterns of plants and leaves warp and weave across its surface as it trots to Smohalla and sits at his feet.

Smohalla is heady with his accomplishment. It is perhaps the finest spirit of this sort that he has ever summoned, and probably the best he could ever reasonably hope to summon. Far from being taxed or winded by the experience, he is invigorated. On the astral, the thrill of success is clear in his aura. The spirit is deeply tied to him, and will obediently do whatever he asks, many times. The spirit, for its part, looks pleased to have been called forth by such an accomplished practitioner as Smohalla, and bears no grudge or ill-will toward him for its commanded services.

The shifter studies the new arrival on the astral. He looks a little nonplussed that his equal has been conjured out of branches and brambles. His estimation of the group grudgingly improves.

Friend, please help me to guard my pack from misfortune.

Astrally and physically, we may be in danger from something in this forest.

If this predator is hunting us, we will need your aid.

Smohalla's mental link to the spirit convey all of these thoughts in an instant.

Through the link also flows all that transpired recently concerning the infected hunter.

You step gingerly into the forest, glancing about for flashing teeth. Hiking is immediately easier with the spirit's guard power. Your steps are steadier as you no longer have to worry about tripping on roots or wayward rocks. You now have more time to keep your head up, surveying your surroundings, rather than staring at the forest floor looking for every pit and rut that wants to twist your ankle. The shifter is a little surprised by your new pace.

The spirit, proud of its contribution to the cause, sends Smohalla a mental reminder than one of its innate gifts is to speed the movement of creatures in its terrain. While it might not be able to accelerate your travel so much as a plant spirit would, it thinks that it can smooth the trail considerably for you, and maybe even add a little propulsion for an extra boost. It would be like jogging, but with no more exertion than walking.

You've traveled maybe a hundred yards when the watcher Smohalla sent to watch your right flank snaps. It bursts like a balloon, its energy swirling back into the astral realm like a puff of smoke vanishing in the wind. The disruption ripples through Smohalla and reaches the spirit via their mental link. The beast immediately sets off to the right, searching the woods for the source of the attack. Whatever's hungry hasn't given up yet.

Smohalla considers the options, noting the Beast Spirit's reminder.

He decides the time for running is not yet come.

My friends, it seems the hunter is still hunting us.

It has shown it's presence on our right side.

Be ready.

"Got it." Stogie shifts his attention, physical and astral, to the right. Jake, keep watch to the left.

Without a word Ellesar drops to one knee and takes aim to the right. His mind automatically focuses on his combat instincts.

Our spirit friend is currently searching the right side area.

I am concerned that this was a distraction.

Attacks from another direction could be it's goal.

Smohalla pauses with a brief smile.

At least, that's what I might do, hunting prey that is dangerous.

"Then we probably shouldn't be all staring blankly to the right. Any good hunter knows to attack the weak spot. So then...." Ellesar pauses, contemplating, "Where is our weak spot?"

Stogie considers Ellesar's question. Jake checks to the left. Stogie checks to the right. Astral perception and quivering, wet nose are at full alert.

Stogie takes a moment to thoughtfully consider the age-old question, "If I were a bloodthirsty man-eater hunting a pair of well-armed individuals sandwiched between two shapeshifters in the deep forest, what would I do?"

The answer he quickly comes to is, "I wouldn't, because it's a tactical mess," but that doesn't fully account for the desperation felt by a sentient being that's hungry enough to hunt during the day even though it's allergic to sunlight.

The two most likely candidates of what's stalking through the forest are a Dzoo-Noo-Qua (an Infected troll) or a Wendigo (an Infected ork). Both are quite large so it's a little alarming that there's no immediate sign of it. Either it took out the watcher at a distance (which is possible but challenging, since the trees are so dense that it limits the line-of-sight), or it attacked on the astral, or it's concealed. That's an alarming thought.

Stogie knows that all wendigos are magicians or mystic adepts. Dzoo-noo-qua aren't magical by default but that's no guarantee that it isn't. Either way, it could mean the hunter is magically cloaked and/or paired with a summoned spirit of its own. That's a relief. You'd hate to be killed and eaten by anything but the very best.

If Stogie were the hunter, he thinks that he would probably try to attack the front or the rear. Attacking the middle could quickly lead to envelopment, as the hunter's right and left flanks would be presumably enveloped by a pincer movement by the vanguard and rearguard. Given the thickness of the trees and their branches, it's also conceivable that an attack could come from above. That's an interesting possibility, Stogie thinks to himself silently, his eyes drifting up the the treetops swaying in the wind above him.

Stogie responds to Ellesar, "Front and rear seem the weakest to me. Less chance of getting surrounded." He looks up. "Or it could go all cougar and hit us from above, and try to get out quickly. I'm a little worried about how the watchers are disappearing. Magic seems more likely now."

Hearing this, Smohalla mentally checks on the status of the watcher he assigned to guard the trees above them.

He feels vulnerable, down here on the ground. He decides to try to gain more information.

Looking up, he scans the trees above him for signs of wildlife.

Ellesar considers Stogie's words. "An aerial attack? That would certainly be otherwise unexpected. I'm not too fond on the idea of sitting and waiting to be attacked, especially from the sky." He steals a couple of quick glances to his left and right, as if looking for something unseen.

There is a tense moment in the woods as everyone concentrates on their senses. Jake sniffs the air, Ellesar listens for sounds of movement, Smohalla scans the trees looking for birds. He can't see a single one.

Stogie switches his sight to the astral. His mind takes a moment to shift; there's always a small lurch when opening your mind, especially in such a vivid setting as the forest floor. Stogie's keen abilities of perception allow him to sort through the tangle of life and vibrant colors better than most. The air around him has a stifled, static feeling, reflecting Smohalla's active jamming of the astral energy surrounding your group.

The shepherd can't stop thinking about the question of how he would attack the group, figuring that the answer will be the quickest way to find the predator. The answer comes to him - a moment too late - in a burst of clarity. The group has been following the shifter along a narrow, overgrow trail. Doing so has naturally led the group into a straight formation. That means that Smohalla is blocking Stogie's and Ellesar's line of fire to the rear. Not only that, but Smohalla isn't even looking behind him so that he can provide counterspelling to the group in front.

Stogie whips his head around. There they are, barely a dozen meters directly behind you: a troll and an earth spirit. The spirit is concealing them and, for good measure, the troll is blanketed by an invisibility spell.

The troll is a fine hunter and knows when he's been spotted. The invisibility spell falls away; a flash of energy erupts from the troll's hand and rolls toward the group.

Stogie stares down the spell. It starts off as a powerful wave but it breaks on the shore of Smohalla's protected space. Ellesar and Smohalla are caught in the wash but the effect is muted. It feels like a buzzing gnat flew into your mouth or your ear, or that a small cloud of dust is making your nose and your eyes itch. Stogie hardens his mind; the spell bends around and passes him by.

Smohalla's beast spirit sees that the group is under attack. It rushes forth on the astral, closing the gap in an instant. The troll's earth spirit responds just as quickly, intercepting the beast spirit and locking into combat. They look evenly matched to begin, each committed to unraveling the astral fabric of the other.

The troll dips into a crouch, readying to spring forth.

Jake has been here before, though he has never seen anything as nasty as this troll. He figure's he can best serve watching for ambush elsewhere, and moves to check the front of the line. He remembers to use the feel-good that Stogie gives him, and thinks, "I big!"

Stogie curses his tardy thinking, but old hunting skills come through. The troll is visible, so Stogie goes to normal sight to get a better bead on this ... monster. Pulling mana together, oh, yes, he feels his body go liquid-smooth, and the shotgun rises as if part of his own body. He steps to the side a bit to get a clear shot. The laser dot rests on the troll's torso. The stock melts into Stogie's shoulder. Weapon and man are one. Stogie/gun squeezes the trigger.

Smohalla feels the spell wash over him and his companions, a gale-force wind of magic mostly blunted by his spell defenses.

He shakes his head back and forth, trying to clear the buzzing annoyance from his mind.

Movement in front of him freezes him for a moment, as he sees Stogie aim at whatever is behind him.

At the same instant he senses through his mystical link the beginnings of a powerful battle on the astral between two entities.

Unsure of just what exactly the nature of the magic used against them was, he draws in his will to counter it.

Ellesar pivots on his heel, still kneeling. The troll that now faces the group is not as fierce as he expected. Something is obviously off about it. Still, shouldn't be any different than anything you've fac....

His thoughts are immediately interrupted by a very unexpected buzzing. Nothing too severe, but enough to hamper any line of thought he had going. Noticing his amateur mistake he allows his instincts to take over. His arm propped against his knee, his body relaxed, and his breathing steady he aims for center mass on the troll and pulls the trigger...

Feeling the massive, bruising punch of enemy magic pushing against him, Smohalla pushes back.

Steadying himself, he concentrates on his magic, his features once again blurring slightly, feathers sprouting in his hair.

His gathered will strikes out at the ongoing spell, a blow designed to cut and maim.

The enemy magic is able to deflect, to blunt the force of the strike, lessening the cut by absorbing some of the impact.

But not all of the force is deflected. Smohalla feels the push against him and his comrades lessen slightly.

Victory has not been assured yet. The hunter still stands and still hunts.

And so Smohalla continues his vigil of protecting the group against hostile magic.

The bullet strikes the troll in the right portion of his chest. A solid hit, but nothing fatal. Hopefully the others fare better.

Ellesar's focus begins to clear up as the buzzing in his head dies down. His gaze remains on the troll, prepared for the imminent assault.

On the astral, the spirits are a blur. Their astral energies roll together as they bend and swirl and rip each other apart. It might be interesting to watch if you didn't have more pressing matters at hand.

Ellesar's aim is true and his rifle shot slams into his target between the chest and the right shoulder. It's not a bad shot but it's off-center and it doesn't have the stopping power necessary to slow down the troll.

Stogie fares better. His astral vision allows him to pinpoint the heart of the troll, its very center of life and being. His shotgun blasts a huge hole in the center of its chest, invoking an angry scream of pain. Its aura rolls with agony and bitter resentment.

Instead of retreating, the troll channels its anger and pain into a ferocious attack. Poor Smohalla is the closest thing at hand, and unfortunately that hand is laced with claws as sharp as jagged bones.

The troll leaps forward with a huge swing of its right hand. Its claws slice easily through Smohalla's jacket and slash deeply into his back. His skin gives way as if it were wet paper, and his ribs break like they're toothpicks being snapped. Smohalla cries out before sputtering to a stop. He's out of air; either a claw or a broken rib has punctured his right lung.

The blow launches Smohalla off his feet, throwing him aside into the underbrush. He slams his head on a fallen tree and barely remains conscious. It was very noble of him to provide counterspelling for the group, but at the moment all he can defend is the patch of dirt and plants immediately in front of his face. He's teetering on the edge of this world, staring into the abyss below.

The astral war continues. The watcher spirits of have joined the fray but cannot effectively compete with the mass of the Earth spirit. Slowly the advantage shifts toward the Earth spirit. The Beast spirit cannot land enough strikes, and Earth spirit simply shrugs off those that do connect. The Beast spirit can only survive one or two more strikes at the most before it is disrupted and defeated.

Smohalla blinks. He feels a tightening in his back, the familiar feeling of his body stitching itself together. His lung suddenly seals and he takes a full breath, feeling the comfort of the air but the pierce of something out of place. He's still bleeding profusely and his ribs are pointing in all the wrong directions, but he feels himself taking a step back from the edge. The troll looms high overhead, blood dripping from its claw as it bellows threateningly at Ellesar.

Holy shit. This thing is tough! Better finish it before it mends.

Hope Smohalla can knit himself up while we deal with this thing!

Stogie sets his shotgun for burst mode. Time to end this silliness. He takes careful aim, lining up a spread of fire at the level of the screaming hole in the troll's chest. Make it wider, or get through to the backbone. Either way, it's all good.

Another smooth squeeze of the trigger, and the shotgun leaps to life.

Ellesar immediately reloads, a flawless action perfected through years of performance. He brings the thick rifle butt up to his shoulder and quickly fires another round at the troll's already mutilated chest.

Damn! No time for another well placed shot. This thing needs to go down now.

Smohalla makes small noises as his vision dims and then returns.

The pain, the pain...it fades, as it always does. But slowly, too slowly.

Gingerly turning over onto his sore back, his vision is red, from blood or from rage, he doesn't know.

All of his attention is focused on this threat.

Freezing won't help. Flight is not possible now. Fighting is the only option.

His eyes find the source of his pain, his fear.

His face elongates into an eagle's beak as his arms, now looking like giant wings, fan out and sweep powerfully toward the troll, bringing with them a thunderclap of noise and magic.

The team reacts decisively after seeing Smohalla tossed aside like a wet towel. Ellesar fires first, his hand seamlessly working the bolt-action to chamber another round. The troll is difficult to miss and Ellesar easily slams another high-powered love letter straight into the mash that Stogie's shotgun had created. The bullet buries itself deep inside the troll.

Stogie, sensing the urgency of the situation, presses the advantage. He flips a switch on his shotgun and fires. The burst travels at a slashing angle, one that prevents the massive troll from ducking or dodging. Two of the shots sail wide but the third embeds itself into the troll's abdomen, a red mist puffing out from the wound. The target shrieks, his cries cutting through the forest and echoing off the walls of the mountain valley. He doubles over and covers the wound with his hand as his knees start to give out. There's a new color in the troll's aura: uncertainty, maybe even fear.

If the rifle and shotgun were loud, the thunderclap from Smohalla is deafening. It drowns out the troll's pain as a high wind rips through the plants and trees, tearing dirt and debris off the ground. The troll has no strength to resist and is blasted off his feet. He flies into the underbrush, his consciousness leaving him. He reaches out to his earth spirit before his hand falls limply to the ground.

The earth spirit hears its master's call. It slices through the beast spirit with a finishing blow; the powerful beast spirit unravels, its astral energies reincorporating themselves into the background. The earth spirit knocks a watcher out of the way as it rushes to the troll. It stops over him, materializing over his fallen form. To mundane eyes, the earth ripples; rocks and dirt reach up to cover the troll, shielding him from further attacks. The watchers continue to strike, harassing the spirit, but their blows bounce off the stronger form.

"Not so fast, Toothy! You ain't gettin' away, even with that clump of dirt helpin' ya!" Stogie's dialect takes a distinct turn south as his excitement rises.

He takes aim and rakes the retreating, unconscious form with another burst from his shotgun.

Smohalla gets to his feet with difficulty, using a nearby tree for support.

As Stogie's shotgun blast roars quietly in his ears, he focuses his other senses on the retreating forms.

Hopefully he could memorize the aura of the troll in time.