Chrysalis

In the distance, a rising tide of fangs, claws and flesh approached. When Morrelia squinted, she could make out the individual forms of the monsters as they undulated across the land and between the trees. There didn’t seem to be an end to the horde. They spread. Like water pooling over the floor from a spilled cup, until they filled the space in front of her.

It wouldn’t be long until they lapped up against the fortifications the villagers had erected and the battle would begin in earnest.

"I’m still not certain we shoulda put ourselves so close to our ’neighbours’," Isaac muttered.

Morrelia rolled her eyes.

"You spent several days with their leader and came home just fine. Do you really think they’re going to eat us?"

The former guard shifted uncomfortably.

"I’m jus’ sayin’ we might want to on our guard once the fightin’ is done. Maybe we look appetising at that point."

"If we live to see the end of this battle, there’ll be tens of thousands of dead monsters right over there. I don’t think they’ll need to turn on us for food," Morrelia pointed out before turning her back on the man.

Despite his experience in the field with Anthony, he still had difficulty overcoming his instincts to distrust monsters.

Not that he’s entirely wrong about that.

the colony of strange ants, or their stranger spokes...ant. She just ... wasn’t. She was cautious of them, always cautious, but not afraid. Perhaps she was just losing her edge. Or, more likely,

they arrive?"

and nodded her head respectfully. Enid may never have been

reaches us. Could be a lot less if they

of the dirt wall at the monsters. Morrelia choked back a laugh as she watched the older woman. Enid looked as if she were staring at dog that had spread mud on her carpet rather than a slavering mass of

our people in position then. Is

Isaac chipped in,

less severe, Morrelia would have suspected him of ulterior motives, as it was she believed he was simply accustomed to greasing the wheels of leadership

troops," Morrelia grunted before she leapt down from the rampart and jogged toward the shaded area the villagers were

intimidating air that was only heightened by the plethora of weapons that graced her form. Her bow, dual blades, knives strapped to her forearms and

backs, many of them asleep, resting in the shade spread by nearby trees. Looking at their tired faces, Morrelia mentally kicked herself. She had to continuously remind herself that she wasn’t dealing with professional soldiers, trainees or mercenaries, but determined village people. They were farmers, traders and craftspeople. Most of

willing. By the Legion they were willing. When she beat them down, they stood up. When she drilled them to exhaustion,

past week, every able bodied refugee had been pushed to the edge of their tolerance and then a little further. Constant practice in the village, constant delves into the Dungeon, had brought everyone to the edge. Morrelia herself had barely slept in the past week, snatching a few hours here and there.

now. You did everything you could, let’s see if it

a

YOU USELESS SACKS OF SICK! THERE’S BLOOD TO BE SPILLED AND SURE AS HELL IT ISN’T GOING TO SPILL ITSELF!" She

trees, returning to thunder in the ears of the unfortunate villagers a second time as they responded instantly to her call. Sleep was rubbed out of eyes

know that on the rampart someone

as he watched Morrelia’s distant form, her